Professor Dovey slammed into Lady Lesso’s office. “That witch must be failed!”
“There’s no way for a Never to enter your school, let alone attack it day and night,” Lady Lesso yawned. “For all we know it’s a rogue Ever.”
“An Ever! My students have won every competition in this school for two hundred years!”
“Until now.” Lady Lesso smiled. “And I have no plans to give up my best student without proof.”
While Professor Dovey sent unanswered missives to the School Master, Lady Lesso took careful notice of Sophie’s growing distance with her roommates, the fact Sophie was no longer shivering in her iced classroom, and her brutal desecration of Tedros’ name on her book covers.
“Are you feeling all right, Sophie?” Lady Lesso asked, barring the ice door after class.
“Yes, thank you,” Sophie replied uncomfortably. “I should be goin—”
“Between your winning Class Captain, your new fashions, and your nighttime activities … it’s a lot to take in.”
“I don’t know what activities you’re referring to,” Sophie said, sidling past her.
“Have you been having strange dreams, Sophie?”
Sophie stopped cold.
“What kind of dreams would be strange?”
“Angry dreams. Dreams that get worse every night,” Lady Lesso said behind her. “You’ll feel as if something is being birthed in your soul. A face, perhaps.”
Sophie’s stomach clamped. The terrible dreams had persisted, all ending with a milky, blurry face. The past few days, streaks of red appeared at the face’s edges, as if it was being outlined in blood. But she couldn’t recognize it. All she knew was she woke up every day angrier than before.
Sophie turned. “Um, what would a dream like that mean?”
“That you are a special girl, Sophie,” Lady Lesso cooed. “One we should all be proud of.”
“Oh. Um … I may have had one or two—”
“Nemesis Dreams,” Lady Lesso said, violet eyes flashing. “You’re having Nemesis Dreams.”
Sophie stared at her. “But—but—”
“Nothing to be concerned about, dear. Not until there’s symptoms.”
“Symptoms? What symptoms? What happens if there’s symptoms?”
“Then you’ll finally see the face of your Nemesis. The one who grows stronger as you grow weaker,” Lady Lesso answered calmly. “The one you must destroy in order to live.”
Sophie blanched. “B-b-but that’s impossible!”
“Is it? I think it’s quite clear who your Nemesis is.”
“What? I don’t have anyone that—”
Sophie lost her breath.
“Tedros? But I love him! That’s why I did it! I have to get him back—”
Lady Lesso just smiled.
“I was angry!” Sophie cried. “I didn’t mean any—I don’t want to hurt him! I don’t want to hurt anyone! I’m not a villain!”
“You see, it doesn’t matter what we are, Sophie.”
Lady Lesso leaned so close she just had to whisper.
“It’s what we do.”
Her pupils flicked over Sophie’s face. “But no symptoms yet, I’m afraid,” she sighed and swept to her desk. “Close the door on your way out.”
Sophie fled too fast to bother.
That night, Sophie didn’t attack the Evers.
Let him go, she told herself, pillow over her head. Let Tedros go.
Over and over she repeated it, until she had erased the meeting with Lady Lesso from her memory. As the words soothed her to sleep, she felt the stirrings of her old self. Tomorrow she’d be loving. Tomorrow she’d be forgiving. Tomorrow she’d be Good again.
But then another dream came.
She ran through mirrors reflecting her smiling face, long gold hair, and luscious pink gown. Through the last mirror was an open door and through the door, Tedros waited for her, kingly in his blue Ball suit beneath Camelot’s spires. She ran and ran to him but grew no closer, until deadly sharp briars, swollen purple, began to snake towards her true love. Frantic, she willed herself through the last door to save him, losing a glass heel and lunged for his arms … The prince melted to a milky, red blur and threw her into thorns.
Sophie woke enraged and forgot all about letting go.
“It’s the middle of the night! You said it was over!” Anadil fumed, following her into the tunnel—
“We can’t keep doing these things without a purpose,” Hester seethed.
“I have a purpose,” Sophie said, whirling around. “You hear me? I have a purpose.”
The next day, the Evers arrived at lunch to find all the trees on their side cut down. All except the one Sophie and Tedros used to sit beneath, carved again and again with one unmistakable word.
LIAR.
Stunned, the wolves and nymphs howled for the teachers and immediately formed a boundary between the two halves of the Clearing. Tedros stormed up to the border between two wolves.
“Stop it. Now.”
Everyone followed his eyes to Sophie, sitting serenely against a snowy tree on the Nevers’ side.
“Or what?” she simpered. “You’ll catch me?”
“Now you really sound like a villain,” Tedros sneered.
“Careful, Teddy. What will they say when we dance at the Ball?”
“All right, now you’ve lost it—”
“Here I thought you were a prince,” Sophie said, walking towards him. “Because you promised to take me to the Ball right in this very spot. And a prince never breaks his promise.”
Gasps rose from both sides of the Clearing. Tedros looked like he’d been kicked in the gut.
“After all, a prince who breaks his promise”—Sophie faced him between two wolves—“is a villain.”
Tedros couldn’t speak, cheeks splotched red.
“But you’re not a villain and neither am I,” Sophie said, eyes guilty. “So all you have to do is keep your promise and we can be ourselves again. Tedros and Sophie. Prince and princess.”
With a tentative smile, she held out her hand across the wolves to him.
“Good for Ever After.”
The Clearing was dead silent.
“I’ll never take you to the Ball,” Tedros spat. “Never.”
Sophie withdrew her hand.
“Well, then,” she said softly. “Now everyone knows who’s responsible for the attacks.”
Tedros felt Evers’ blameful stares burning through him. Ashamed, he trudged out of the Clearing, as Sophie watched, heart in her throat, fighting the urge to call him back.
“This is about a Ball?” said a voice.
Sophie turned to glowering Hester and Anadil.
“This is about what’s right,” she said.
“You’re on your own,” Hester snarled, and Anadil followed her away.