He couldn’t remember the last time he actually liked a girl. And yet, he always had one following him, claiming to be his girlfriend. It happened every time. He vowed to forget girls, then noticed one getting attention, set out to prove he could get her, got her, and discovered she was a fatuous prince hunter who had had her eye on him all along. The Beatrix Curse. No. There was a better name for it.
The Guinevere Curse.
Tedros was only nine when his mother, Guinevere, made off with the knight Lancelot, leaving him and his father alone. He heard the whispers that followed. “She found love.” But what about all those times she said “I love you” to his father? All the times she said it to him? Which love was real?
Night after night, Tedros watched his father slip further into heartbreak and drunkenness. Death came within the year. With his last breaths, King Arthur gripped his son’s hands.
“The people will need a queen, Tedros. Don’t make my mistakes. Look for the girl who is truly Good.”
Tedros climbed higher and higher on the golden braids, veins straining against muscle.
Don’t make my mistakes.
His hand slipped and he fell off the rope, crashing to a soft mat. Cheeks red, he glowered at the taunting waterfalls of hair.
All the girls here were mistakes. Guineveres who confused love with kisses.
Daylight flecked across Agatha’s pillow. She stirred and saw Sophie hunched on Reena’s old bed.
“Why are you still here! If the wolves catch you, it’s the Doom Room again! Besides, you should be home writing that anonymous love poem to Tedr—”
“You didn’t tell me there’s a Ball.”
Sophie held up a glittering snowflake invitation, Agatha’s name in pearls.
“Oh, who cares about a stupid Ball?” Agatha groaned. “We’ll be long gone. Now make sure that poem talks about who he is as a person. His honor, his valor, his cour—”
Sophie was smelling the invitation now.
“Sophie, listen to me! The closer we get to the Ball, the more Tedros looks for a date! The more he looks for a date, the more he falls in love with someone else! The more he falls in love with someone else, the more he leaves us here to die! Got it?”
“But I want to be his date.”
“YOU’RE NOT INVITED!”
Sophie pursed her lips.
“Sophie, Tedros has to kiss you now! Otherwise we’ll never get home!”
“Honestly, do they even check invitations at a Ball?”
Agatha snatched the invitation. “Stupid me. I thought you wanted to stay alive!”
“But I can’t miss the Ball!”
Agatha shoved her towards the door. “Use the Tunnel of Trees—”
“Marble hall, glittering gowns, waltzing under stars …”
“If a wolf catches you, just say you’re lost—”
“A Ball, Aggie! A real Ball!”
Agatha kicked her out. Sophie scowled back.
“My roommates will help me. They’re true friends.”
She slammed the door on Agatha’s shocked expression.
Ten minutes later, Hester stamped her foot, nearly killing Anadil’s rat.
“HELP! YOU WANT ME TO HELP A NEVER KISS AN EVER! I’D RATHER STICK MY HEAD UP A HORSE’S—”
“Sophie, no villain ever finds love,” Anadil said, hoping reason might save her rats. “To even look for it is to betray your own soul—”
“You want me to go home?” Sophie snapped, picking away tunnel leaves. “Then put a hex on Tedros so he asks me to the Ball.”
“THE BALL!” Hester screeched. “HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE BALL?”
“A villain at a Ball?” said Dot.
“A villain waltzing!” said Anadil.
“A villain curtsying!” said Hester, and all three collapsed into howls.
“I’m going to that Ball,” Sophie fumed.
“Presenting the Witch of Woods Beyond!” Hester cackled through tears.
By lunch, she wasn’t laughing.
First, Sophie was twenty minutes late to class after trying to find a solution to her jagged hair. She disguised it with berets, bows, combs before settling on a daisy wreath.
“Not hideous,” she sighed before she walked into Uglification and saw students’ hair turned gray from bat wing potions. A “1” suddenly exploded over her head.
“Hideous!” Professor Manley beamed, ogling her hair. “Your greatest beauty. Gone.”
Sophie sobbed as she left class, but then heard Hester scream. In the hall, Albemarle, a studious, spectacled woodpecker, was chipping Sophie’s name just below hers on the Evil rankings board.
“One little love spell, Hester,” Sophie reminded sweetly. “And then I’m gone forever.”
Hester stomped away, reminding herself that Nevers kissing Evers couldn’t be encouraged no matter how extreme the circumstances.
At the start of Curses, Lady Lesso swept into the ice chamber, jaw tighter than usual.
“Impossible to find good torturers these days,” she muttered.
“What is she talking about?” Sophie whispered to Dot.
“Beast went missing!” Dot whispered back.
Behind her, Sophie looked nauseous.
Testing the class on Nemesis Dreams, Lady Lesso seethed and sniped at every wrong answer.
“But I thought a Nemesis Dream meant you’ll be a Lead Villain,” Hester said—
“No, you imbecile! Only if you have symptoms! A Nemesis Dream is nothing without symptoms!” Lady Lesso retorted. “Dot, what do you taste in your mouth during your first Nemesis Dream?”
“What you ate before bed?”
“Blood, you idiot!” Lady Lesso dragged nails across the ice wall. “Oh, what I’d give to see a real villain in this school. A real villain who could make Good weep instead of these dung fleas.”
When it came to her turn, Sophie expected the worst abuse, only to have Lady Lesso give her a wart for a surely incorrect answer and caress her shorn hair as she passed.
“Why is she being nice to you?” Hester hissed behind her.
Sophie had the same question, but turned around with a smile. “Because I’m future Class Captain. As long as I stay here, that is.”
Hester looked like she might break Sophie’s neck. “Love spells are junk villainy. They don’t work.”
“I’m sure you’ll find one that does,” Sophie said.
“I’m warning you, Sophie. This will end badly.”
“Hmm … What about petunias in every room?” Sophie mused. “I think it’ll