The School for Good and Evil #2: A World without Princes (31 page)

Sophie paled, smearing away drool. Since when did she think about meat! Since when did she think about
food
! She stumbled and knocked into Ravan. “Walking. It ain't
hard
,” he scowled, shoving past her.

Sophie kept her eyes down, her fluffy hair flopping over them. Nothing in her body seemed to bend . . . like she was a wooden puppet, strings pulled too tight. She peeked ahead at Aric, chest puffed, swaggering like a stallion, and tried to imitate him as best she could.

Sophie glanced back at Tedros lagging behind the mob, all alone and friendless. Manley said the boys had turned on him for risking their freedom in the Trial's terms—but Sophie wondered if there was more to it. Boys loved to tear down the things they built up, whether a sand castle or a prince. And for most of the past two years, Tedros had been the rich, popular, preposterously handsome Ever captain who all the boys wanted to be. Now that Manley was punishing him for the missing Storian, they gleefully indulged in his fall, like a weakened lion left to hyenas. Sophie watched him shivering slightly in the cold breeze from the balcony, his thinner frame suffering from withheld meals. She didn't spare even a grain of pity for him.

“Filip! Filip, you forgot your schedule!” Hort shoved in, foisting crumpled parchment on her. “You're with me all day—”

Sophie blew her hair out of her eyes and peered down at it.

“They've been prepping the rest of us for Tryouts for weeks with workouts and lectures and reading, so you'll need a little luck,” Hort said, with a sly wink. “Especially with the way you bumble around. It's like you've spent your whole life on giant heels or something.”

Sophie broke into a dripping sweat. She still couldn't walk like a boy, and now she'd have to beat a school of them in warrior competition?

Ten minutes later, Professor Espada stood in Evil Hall with his class of forty boys, a long table in front of him, covered with a dark sheet.

“We have informed Dean Sader in the girls' school that the rules of the Trial by Tale will follow tradition,” he said, his slicked hair as black as his curled mustache. His thin, self-righteous smile reminded Sophie of the youngest Elder—the one who'd streaked her with her own blood.

“Ten girls and ten boys will enter the Blue Forest at sundown. The teams must fend off not only each other, but the teachers' traps as well. Whichever side has the most players still in the Forest at sunrise will be declared the winner. If the boys win, Sophie and Agatha will be turned over for execution and the schools will remand to Good and Evil. If the girls win, we will surrender our castle to them and become their slaves.”

As boys murmured to each other, Sophie felt her broad back slopped with sweat now.

“As is customary, each contestant will be given a flag of surrender,” Professor Espada continued. “If you find yourself in mortal danger, drop it to the ground, and you will be rescued unharmed from the Blue Forest. To protect yourselves, each competitor is allowed one weapon for the Trial. Today's challenge will test the one most often used—”

He pulled the sheet off a table, revealing a row of different-sized swords and daggers, all of which looked much sharper than the usual training blades.

“In past years, swords were dulled for Trial competition. Given the stakes in this year's Trial, we see no reason to offer the courtesy,” Espada said, beady eyes glinting. “A sword rewards quickness and strength, so you must use both to be effective. Aim your sword at a girl's heart, and she will drop her flag of surrender immediately.”

He held up two kerchiefs, one red, one white. “Now let's see which of you drops
yours
.”

Sophie tensed. She'd never held a sword in her life.

Professor Espada called forth pairs of boys, who picked their blades and faced off until one surrendered. With Everboys and the new princes well trained in deft swordplay and the Neverboys well trained in poor sportsmanship, the duels were feisty affairs: Chaddick over Hort with a sword tip to throat, Ravan over an Avonlea prince with a knee to the groin, Aric over Vex with a simple glare. . . .

“Tedros and Filip. You're next,” Espada declared.

Sophie slowly looked up at Tedros glowering at her, eyes blazing. He hadn't forgotten what she'd said to him in the dungeon.

“FIL-IP, FIL-IP, FIL-IP,” chanted the boys raucously, as Espada handed the two boys their flags. “Pick your weapons.”

Sophie's eyes blurred with sweat; her big hands tremored as she took a long, thin slab of metal off the table—

Hort elbowed her. “That's the sharpener, you idiot!”

Sophie grabbed the short blade next to it and whirled to Tedros, but the prince had seen the mistake. Tedros held up his enormous sword, teeth gnashed, nostrils flaring.

“Ready . . . and . . . go!” Espada barked—

“AAAAHHHHH!” Tedros bellowed, charging for Filip like a bull.

Sophie couldn't maneuver her boy body, let alone a sword, and capsized back against the wall, fumbling for her flag. Her long, thick fingers jammed in her pocket and she looked up frantically, Tedros thundering towards her, blade raised. With a cry, Sophie yanked her kerchief free to drop it—

Tedros tripped and landed splat at her feet.

Sophie gaped down at him, then lifted her eyes to Hort grinning proudly, boot in Tedros' path.

Tedros tried to grab his sword, but Chaddick kicked it away. The prince staggered up and Ravan shot a Shock Spell at him, knocking him down. As Tedros yelped in pain, Sophie saw Hort waving and pointing at Tedros' kerchief. Sophie calmly kneeled, pulled it out of the prince's pocket, and dropped it to the floor.

“Filip wins!” Espada decreed, and the boys erupted in roars as Sophie took princely bows.

“But—but that's unfair—” Tedros cried—

“A clever boy makes allies,” Espada said, smirking back.

A “20” burst in black, poo-smelling smoke over Tedros' head. Sophie looked up at the crowning gold “1” over hers and beamed.

By the time the sun set, classes complete on the first day, Sophie swaggered back to the Doom Room, the top-ranked boy in the school. She hadn't won a single challenge on merit, but the entire school had conspired to help Filip beat Tedros again and again—tainting the prince's meerworms in Survival, scaring away his two Wish Fish in Defense Against Girls, refusing to partner with him in Fraternity, and sneaking a spider in his pants before the Forest Fitness test.

It was certainly odd that
all
the boys joined in to boost her rank, Sophie thought—even the new princes—as if no one wanted the top rank for themselves. But she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. As for the teachers, they turned blind eyes like Espada, intent on teaching Tedros a lesson for stealing the Storian in the first place. Indeed, Manley was so pleased that he publicly bestowed Filip with a key to the dungeon room, so he could come and go as he pleased—a privilege denied to the “runt.”

Sophie unlocked the cell and entered, ruddy and freshly showered, belly full from a bean stew and stuffed goose supper, and eager to get to the School Master's tower for duty.
If only Agatha could see me now
, she grinned, for she'd not only eaten
beans
, of all things, but she'd passed her mission with flying colors. She'd have the whole night to find the Storian. Tedros would soon face punishment. And tomorrow, she and her best friend would be back home, safe from a deadly Trial. . . .

She kicked the cell door shut, humming a tune. Being Filip wasn't so bad after all. The walk was settling in, the voice growing more natural, the extra weight suddenly feeling strong and inspiring. . . . She was even getting used to her new face, Sophie thought, eyeing her square jaw, regal nose, and soft, full lips in a gleaming spear on the torture rack. Agatha was right. She was handsome, wasn't she. . . .

“You cheated.”

Sophie turned to Tedros, sitting alone in the dank, dirty corner.

“I don't care that I have to be punished or that I can't eat supper or that everyone hates me,” the prince said, staring at her. “I care that you cheated.”

Sophie pulled the door open to leave. “A bit busy for chitchat, unfortunately—”

“You're no better than Agatha.”

Sophie stopped cold.

“I loved her so much,” he mumbled behind her, almost to himself. “I tried to make her wish come true. I tried to fix the story like a prince is supposed to. Kill the witch, kiss his princess. That's how fairy tales work. That's what she asked for.” His voice broke. “But I would have let Sophie live if it meant having Agatha forever. I would have kissed her and we would have had The End. But then she cheated. Agatha cheated. She had Sophie there the whole time under the table . . . and she
lied
to me.”

Sophie turned to see Tedros hunched over, head buried between his knees.

“How could anyone be so Evil?” he rasped.

Watching him, Sophie's face slowly softened.

A shadow washed over the prince.

Tedros lifted his eyes to Aric, smirking in the open doorway.

“Special occasion,” the captain said, cracking his knuckles. “Think I'll do the punishing myself.”

Tedros turned away, like a dog offering his neck.

Aric's eyes flicked to Filip. “Get
out
.”

Sophie's heart chilled as she backed through the grated door and Aric slammed it in her face. She saw the captain creep towards the prince and then hurried away, leaving Tedros to his tormentor, trying desperately to convince herself that he deserved it, he deserved it, he deserved it.

Far across the bay, in a dark room window, Agatha looked out at the School for Boys, her blue bodice splotched with blood, her arms and legs scraped and bruised.

Hurry, Sophie
, Agatha prayed.

For if what she'd learned today about the Dean was true, they were already out of time.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

E
ight hours earlier, three witches had perched on Agatha's bed. “Tell us everything Dovey and Lesso said,” said Dot.

“In detail,” said Hester.

“In as few words as possible,” said Anadil, nodding at her three black rats guarding the gap under the door with gnashed teeth and ready claws. “They can only kill so many butterflies before one gets through.”

Agatha stared back at them, head swimming. After her secret meeting with Professor Dovey and Lady Lesso, she waited until all the girls were in their first sessions. Then she delivered identical notes to the witches' room and hid in her own's closet, avoiding patrol butterflies zooming through and Beatrix swinging in and out between classes, until the notes were opened and obeyed. Now Agatha told the witches what the teachers had said in the sewers, her heart thumping faster and faster, reliving every word—

“They
know
the Dean?” Dot blurted finally, spewing a mouth full of artichoke.

Hester scrunched her fists. “I knew Dovey and Lesso were acting funny that first month of school. Lesso looks like a wounded puppy every time the Dean's around.”

Agatha couldn't think of a better description herself. Something about Evelyn Sader managed to turn the most terrifying teacher in school . . . human.

“And remember when you said the Dean punished Dovey for questioning her?” Hester added. “Sounded like she was settling an old score.”

“Lesso said Evelyn Sader was evicted ten years ago,” said Agatha. “And that if you're evicted, you can't ever come back.”

“That's because only the School Master can admit students or teachers to the School for Good and Evil,” said Hester. “If he banished her, it's irrevocable—unless he let her back in himself. And that would be difficult, considering he's
dead
.”