Sophie knew she should find her group and hide them in the forest until the second horn in case the Headmistress or other meddling boys came this way. But she didn’t have the energy to wrangle pesky Arjun or insolent Emilio or hoggish Jorgen, who never used a toilet he didn’t miss. Why was it that her story always brought her back to being a steward of dark souls and misanthropes? Was the Storian trying to tell her something? That no matter how she wished her story would go, it would end with her being a Dean somewhere? Perhaps that was the original sin: leaving her post as Evil’s Dean to marry Rhian. Because if she hadn’t left school, if she’d stayed loyal to her Nevers and turned Rhian down, then none of this would have happened. She’d still be stalking the halls of Lady Lesso’s old tower and Tedros would be on his throne.
But she didn’t want to be a Dean anymore, Sophie reminded herself. Not there or here or anywhere else. She didn’t want to be like Lesso or Dovey or Brunhilde—
Why?
All were formidable, intelligent, strong. All were leaders she admired, with honor and wisdom and conviction. What else did Sophie want from a life? Why couldn’t she be happy as a Dean? What was missing?
Tears stung her eyes, the answer so obvious.
Love.
The first of the holy trinity.
Love. Purpose. Food.
As Dean, she could have Purpose. She could have Food and earthly delights. But like Lesso and Brunhilde and Dovey before her, Sophie would never have Love. For that was the rule, wasn’t it? To be a good Dean in this world, you sacrificed all attachments and devoted yourself to your students. It wasn’t meant to be a punishment. By the time you became a Dean, you should have had your fun. You were ready to put others’ needs before your own, like a mother would for her child.
But Sophie’s life had only just begun. She wasn’t ready at all. True, she had Agatha, but Agatha had Tedros, who she’d likely marry and then there’d be babies (ick) and then what would become of her? The spinster best friend? The eternal third wheel? She could picture it now: giving baby Tedros a bath and pureeing his green peas while Agatha and Teddy were off at a court ball. At night, she’d hug a pillow as she slept, her substitute for love. But it wasn’t being alone that was the problem. Sophie didn’t fear loneliness. She’d be perfectly happy in a chateau by herself until the end of her days, feasting on caviar and cucumbers, soaking in milk baths and taking vigorous massages. Indeed, that’s what most people would expect from her. Sophie, who answered to no one. Sophie, who’d learned to be happy on her own . . . But there was no surprise in that ending. Nothing that would challenge her or make her grow. Couldn’t there be another end? Another chance at Ever After, even if she’d failed all her chances thus far?
As tears and feelings flowed, she looked up to a dark forest. How long had she been walking on her own? Where had she left the boys? Her stomach was gurgling, her forehead clammy. She suddenly felt faint. Was it the lingering effects of her spell that had knocked her on her bum? Or that hellish broccoli quiche the boys made last night? She knew she should turn back before she got too lost, but now she spotted a seed of light through the trees, an opening out of the forest. Perhaps she could find some chickweed or dandelion to appease her stomach . . . Her pulse slowed, her body weaker with every step. The corners of her mind drew in, but she couldn’t let herself pass out. Not here, where no one would find her. She struggled between trunks and over tangled twigs, breathing shallower, shallower, before she finally limped out of the forest, stumbling into the light—
Sophie went still.
A sun-soaked wheat field stretched before her, the tall, golden reeds up to her ears. A breeze swept through, bowing the wheat to the ground, revealing dozens of swords glinting between stalks, their Lion-carved hilts shimmering. And in the middle of these swords, bent over, inspecting each one . . .
A boy.
His hair was light brown, his Foxwood school shirt slung over his shoulder, his sweat-drenched chest burly and strong. He sensed Sophie’s presence and looked up with big gray eyes.
Sophie’s heart thundered. Her head spun.
“Chaddick?” she gasped.
The boy rushed towards her—
But she had already fallen.
“DRINK THIS,” THE voice ordered.
Sophie pried her eyes open to a blurry silhouette, holding a glass of creamy goo to her lips. She was on a bed, her head propped by pillows, her blouse scattered with wheat. Her temples spasmed, making her gaze squinty and wet. Slowly, the boy came into focus, with thick eyebrows, a commanding nose, and that surly Chaddick mouth. But he was tall. And Chaddick wasn’t tall. So this couldn’t be Chaddick. Her rescuer was someone else entirely, a thought that made Sophie sit up with a kittenish smile . . . only to remember she wasn’t Sophie, but Dean Rowenna, with ugly clothes and a fat wart.
“What’s in it?” she asked, pointing at the glass.
“Bananas, yogurt, and coconut,” the boy replied. “Will get you back on your feet.”
Sophie didn’t like any of those things, but she sucked it down, ignoring the syrupy taste as her eyes roved the room: a smooth blue mural of a knight fighting a dragon, a closet full of boys’ clothes and boots, and the four-post bed she was on now, with stiff navy sheets. “Where am I?”
“My brother’s room. Carried you up here,” said the boy. “Would have kept you downstairs . . . but it’s not habitable at the moment.”
“So you knew our brother?” a voice asked.
Sophie turned to a younger boy at the door, with messy ash-blond hair and sad blue eyes. “Cedric said you thought he was Chaddick,” he explained, nodding at the older lad.
Cedric smiled. “This is Caleb,” he said, shepherding the tiny boy in and hugging him to his side. “Chaddick is our middle brother.” His smile tempered. “Was, I mean.”
“This is Chaddick’s . . . house?” Sophie asked, surprised.
A swaggering, gray-eyed portrait at school came to mind: Chaddick of Foxwood.
“That’s his bed you’re on now,” Cedric confirmed, quietly. “Mother wanted to keep the room just as he left it.”
Caleb teared up. “Don’t even know who killed him.”
The Snake, Sophie wanted to say. Killed him in cold blood. While the Lady of the Lake watched and did nothing to save him.
“Last we heard, Chaddick was going to be lead knight for Tedros. That was his quest after finishing school,” said Cedric. He clenched his teeth, holding down emotion. “Doesn’t deserve to be king, that Tedros. A real king protects his knights. Chaddick would tell me to forgive him. To stand behind King Tedros instead of King Rhian. But I’m not as pure-hearted as Chaddick was. That’s why he made it into the School for Good.”
Another family torn apart by the Snake, Sophie thought. Another fairy tale cut short. “Chaddick was so loyal to Tedros,” she said, her eyes on the mural. The knight in the mural looked just like him: dark blond and barrel-chested, chasing fearlessly at dragons. “Charming, courageous in every way. All the girls loved him. Boys too. He was rock solid. The one you could count on.”
She glanced back and saw the two boys gazing at her.
“Uh, how did you know Chaddick?” Cedric asked.
Sophie blinked. “From school—” She cleared her throat, sitting straighter. “Foxwood School, I mean. Where I’m a new Dean. Chaddick and I crossed paths once. A fish market in Abu-Abu. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my students.”