Isle of the Lost (28 page)

It was no use. Maleficent was on her throne. “So, the prodigal daughter returns,” she said. Her voice sounded different.

“Mother, I have something to…” Mal stopped, looking up.

And stared.

And then stared some more, in about ten different varieties of shock.

Because she found herself staring at the long black staff with the green globe at its top that her mother was holding.

The Dragon’s Eye.

“Is that—” She couldn’t speak.

Maleficent nodded. “Yes, it is the Dragon’s Eye. And yes, you did fail me. But thankfully, not all my servants are as useless as you.”

Mal ignored the word
servant.
“But how?”

Maleficent laughed. “Silly child, what do you know about quests?”

“But we found it in the Forbidden Fortress! I just touched it—an hour ago!” said Mal. “It was in your own throne room. Suspended on the wall. Where you could see it, from where your throne used to sit.”

Her mother eyed her. Mal couldn’t be certain, but it was possible, for the briefest of all split-seconds, that her mother was the slightest bit impressed.

“I touched it, and that thing knocked me unconscious.”

“You touched it? You don’t say,” said Maleficent. “Well, good job, you. You really are as soft as your father.”

Mal bristled. “I don’t understand.”

“You touched the Dragon’s Eye? Instead of tricking one of the others into doing it? Such weakness. I didn’t want to believe the news when I heard it.” Maleficent banged her staff upon the floor next to her feet. “How many times, Mal? How much more will you shame me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I sent Diablo out after you to retrieve the Eye for me. He must have taken it from you while you were sleeping off the curse.” She shook her head. “I knew you wouldn’t have it in you to do what needed to be done, and I knew I couldn’t take any chances. It appears I was right. Again.”

Diablo cawed proudly.

So she’d been right about feeling as if they were being followed. Of course. That was Diablo.

Mal felt like giving up. It never mattered, how hard she tried, or what she did, she would never impress her mother.

Even now, her mother had eyes only for the Dragon’s Eye.

“The only thing is, it’s broken,” said Maleficent with a frown. “Look at the eye, it’s dead.” For a moment, she sounded like the same angry little girl who had cursed a baby over a party invitation. Mal remembered all too well, and she looked at her mother through new eyes.

“Well, the dome is still up,” said Mal, finally. “It keeps the magic out.” It was down for a brief moment, but there would be no magic on the island anytime soon.

“Maybe. Or maybe you broke the eye when you touched it,” Maleficent accused. “You are such a disappointment.”

Meanwhile, at Jafar’s Junk Shop, an angry Jafar was berating Jay, who had returned home empty-handed. “So you’re saying you did find the Dragon’s Eye, did you? So where is it, then?”

“It disappeared!” Jay protested. “One minute we had it, and then we lost it.”

“Right. And this had nothing to do with a certain noble deed performed by a certain daughter of evil for a certain other daughter of evil?”

Jay froze. “Excuse me?”

The words
good
and
deed
were chilling, particularly on the Isle, and particularly when coming out of his father’s mouth.

“Did you think goblins keep secrets particularly well, boy? The news is all over the island.”

“I swear. That’s what really happened. I swear on a stack of stolen…” Jay blanked. He couldn’t think of a single thing to steal at the moment.

But to be honest, for once in his life, he didn’t even care.

“You are such a disappointment,” Jafar snorted.

Over at Hell Hall, Carlos was getting an earful after Cruella finally discovered her furs in disarray in her closet. “Who has been in here? It looks like a wild animal was trapped with my furs! What imbecile would do such a thing?”

“A wild one?” Carlos winced. He knew it was pointless to even try. Not when the closet looked like this.

His answer was a scream, and it was bloodcurdling. Even in his mother’s signature, shrill octave.

“I’m sorry Mother,” whimpered Carlos. “It won’t happen again! I know how much you love your furs.” The words were almost a whisper. He could see the faces of the gargoyles from the bridge, mocking him as he said them.

Then he could see Mal, Evie, and Jay laughing at her with him, and he had to keep from secretly smiling, himself.

Cruella sniffed. “You are such a disappointment!”

Over at the Castle-Across-the-Way, the Evil Queen was lamenting the state of Evie’s hair. “It’s like a rat’s nest! What happened? You look awful.”

“I’m sorry Mother, we ran into…well…uh…let’s just say I couldn’t find a mirror.”

I found one,
she thought.
Just not the kind you want to look at.

Not when you’re supposed to be the fairest of them all.

“Just promise me these rumors I’m hearing aren’t true,” her mother said. “All this talk of a virtuous act.” She shuddered. “The goblins are saying such horrid things about the four of you.”

“You know that goblins are horrible creatures, Mom.” Evie hid her face. She didn’t know what to say. To be honest, she didn’t even know what she thought. It had been a strange few days.

Not entirely bad, but strange.

The Evil Queen sighed. “You forgot to reapply blush again. Oh dear, sometimes, you’re such a disappointment.”

Mal sat out on the balcony, hearing the sounds of laughter and mayhem from down below. Then, a shout.

“Mal!” Jay called. “Come down!”

She ran downstairs. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, just trying to get away from our parents and disappointing them again,” said Carlos.

“You too, huh?” asked Mal. She turned to Jay and Evie. “And you?”

The three of them nodded.

“Come on, let’s go to the market,” said Evie. “I need a new scarf.”

“I can get you one,” said Jay, waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, and Evie—here you go,” he said. “I believe this might be yours.”

“My necklace!” said Evie, putting the poison-heart charm around her neck once more, with a smile. “Thanks, Jay.”

“I found it.”

“In his pocket,” said Mal, but even she was grinning.

With a whoop, the four descendants of the world’s greatest villains ran through the crowded streets of the Isle of the Lost, causing havoc, stealing and plundering together while the citizens of the island ran the other way. They were truly rotten to the core.

Even Mal started to feel better.

And in fact, as they laughed and sang, Mal wondered if this was what happiness was like.

Because even though the four of them weren’t quite friends yet, they were the closest things they had to it.

“You will join

me for dinner.…

That’s not a

request!”

—Beast,
Beauty

and the Beast

W
hile the band of four villain kids was causing havoc in the streets of the Isle of the Lost, Prince Ben was looking out the window from his high vantage point in Beast Castle, lost in a few thoughts of his own.

It was true that Grumpy the Dwarf had told him he’d make a good king, but privately, Ben wondered if he was right.

More to the point, he wondered if becoming a good king was even something he cared about at all.

Did it matter?
What he cared about? What he wanted?

Trapped,
Ben thought, staring out over the vast expanse of the kingdom. That’s what I am.

He looked up at the sky, as if it held the answers. The blue wash was bright and clear as usual, and he could see all the way to the distant horizon, where Auradon itself dissolved into nothing but misty shoreline and azure water.

No.

Not nothing.

Ben thought of his dream of the island.

The Isle of the Lost. That’s what everyone called it, even his father.

He considered again what it would be like to live as they did, trapped underneath the magical dome, just as he was in his royal life.

They were prisoners, weren’t they? His father tried to pretend that they were not, but even Ben knew otherwise. They were exiled to the island by order of the king.

Just as Ben was able to live in the castle because he was the king’s son. And because my father loves me, Ben thought. And because I was born to this.

It was impossible to stop thinking about it.

He flinched.

“Ouch,” Ben said, as a needle poked him again in the armpit.

“Sorry, sire; forgive me sire.” Lumiere, who was measuring him for his coronation suit, quailed.

“Quite all right,” said Ben, who looked kingly, at least according to Lumiere, in the royal blue velvet suit with yellow piping. It had belonged to King Beast, who had worn it at his own coronation. “It was my fault—I moved.”

“Your mind is elsewhere, sire,” said Lumiere sagely. “As befitting a future king of Auradon.”

“Perhaps,” said Ben.

For a future king, he was surprised by how little he knew about the Isle of the Lost. How did the villains fare, beneath the dome? How did they live, eat, take care of themselves? How were their families? What were their hopes and dreams? What did they see when they stared out the windows of their own castle or cottage or cave?

Ben remembered he had heard that a few of them had children. Some would have to be his own age by now, wouldn’t they? He wondered how they dealt with living in the shadow of their infamous parents.

I imagine that for them, it’s a lot like this,
he thought, staring down at his royal beast-head ring, the one just like his father’s. Wearing his father’s suit, fitted by his father’s tailor. Standing at the window of his father’s castle.

We’re all trapped. I’m as trapped as they are.

The more Ben thought about it, the more he knew it was true. He hadn’t chosen to be born a prince and become a king, just as they hadn’t chosen who their parents were. They were prisoners for a crime they themselves had not committed.

That was the greater crime, wasn’t it?

It’s not fair. It’s not our fault. We have no say in our own lives. We’re living in a fairy tale someone else wrote.

In that moment, Ben suddenly understood why it was that the sidekicks wanted more for their lives: because he found he wanted even more than
that
.

He wanted things to change, throughout Auradon.

Everything,
he thought.
For everyone.

Was that even possible? On the other hand, how could it not be? How could he possibly keep going with the way things were now?

Ben thought about it.

If he was going to be king, he would have to be himself, his mother had said. And he was different from his father. That was clear to everyone, even Lumiere. Ben would rule, but he would rule differently.

He would make different rules and proclamations.

His mind wandered again to the image of the purple-haired girl with the bright green eyes. The girl from his dream.

Who was she?

Would he ever meet her?

Was she one of them? One of the lost souls on that cursed island? He had a feeling that she was.

And just then, he had a flash of inspiration.

One that would change the fates of both Auradon and the Isle of the Lost forever.

Why not?

It’s about time.

His mind was made up.

“Sire! Where are you going?” cried Lumiere as Ben suddenly leapt away from the needle and thread, a flurry of straight pins and bespoke chalk and measuring tape flying into the air around him.

“To find my parents! I have something to tell them, and it can’t wait!” said Ben. “I’ve got the most brilliant idea!”