“Who are you talking to?”
Two blue eyes glowed in darkness across the bridge.
Sophie froze.
“Say something!” Agatha hissed in her ear.
Sophie couldn’t.
“I talk to myself when I’m nervous,” Agatha whispered.
“I talk to myself when I’m nervous,” Sophie said quickly.
A navy blue fox stepped out of the shadows, swan twinkling on its puffed chest.
“I thought only princesses get nervous. Not the best villain in school.”
Sophie gaped at the fox. It had Tedros’ tight muscles and half-cocked grin.
“Only the best Good can disguise as Evil,” Agatha intervened. “Especially when it has love to fight for.”
“Only the best Good can disguise as Evil,” Sophie said. “Especially when it has love to fight for.”
“So it really was a mistake all along?” Tedros said, circling her slowly.
Sophie flailed for words—
“I had to play both sides in order to survive,” Agatha rescued.
“I had to play both sides in order to survive,” echoed Sophie.
She heard Tedros’ steps stop. “Now, according to the Prince Code, I have a promise to fulfill.” His fur brushed against hers. “What would you like me to ask you?”
Sophie’s heart choked her throat.
“Do you see who I am now?” Agatha said.
“Do you see who I am now?” Sophie breathed.
Tedros was quiet.
He lifted her chin with his warm paw. “You do know this will throw both schools into upheaval?”
Sophie gazed into his eyes, hypnotized.
“I do,” whispered the roach.
“I do,” said the fox.
“You do know no one will accept you as my princess?” said Tedros.
“I do.”
“I do.”
“You do know you will spend the rest of your life trying to prove you’re Good?”
“I do,” said Agatha.
“I do,” said Sophie.
Tedros moved closer and their chests touched.
“And you do know I’m going to kiss you now?”
Both girls gasped at the same time.
As iridescent brook water lit up the foxes’ blue and pink faces, Agatha closed her eyes and said goodbye to this world of nightmares. Sophie closed her eyes too and felt Tedros’ warm, sweet breath as his tender mouth grazed her lips—
“But we should wait,” Sophie said, pulling away.
Agatha’s bug eyes flashed open.
“Sure. Course. Obviously,” Tedros stammered. “I’ll, um, walk you to your tunnel.”
As they walked back in silence, Sophie’s pink tail curled around his. Tedros looked at her and surrendered a smile. Agatha watched all this, swelling red. And when the prince finally vanished into his tunnel, she vaulted onto Sophie’s nose.
“What are you doing!”
Sophie didn’t answer.
“Why didn’t you kiss him!”
Sophie said nothing.
Agatha dug her pincers into Sophie’s nose. “You need to run after him! Go now! We can’t get home unless you kiss—”
Sophie brushed Agatha off her face and disappeared into the dark tunnel.
Writhing in dead leaves, Agatha finally understood.
There was no kiss because there would never be a kiss.
Sophie had no intention of them going home.
Ever.
They had seen students pathetic in the first year end richer than kings. They had seen Class Captains flame out by the third year and end as pigeons or wasps. They had seen pranks, protests, and raids, kisses, vows, and impromptu love songs.
But they had never ever seen an Ever and a Never hold hands in the lunch line.
“Are you sure I won’t get in trouble?” said Sophie, noticing them glaring from balconies.
“If you’re good enough for me, you’re good enough for a basket,” said Tedros, pulling her forward.
“I suppose they should get used to it,” Sophie sighed. “I don’t want any trouble at the Ball.”
Tedros’ hand stiffened on hers. Sophie turned bright red.
“Oh … After last night, I just assumed …”
“The Everboys took an oath we wouldn’t propose before the Circus of Talents,” Tedros said, tugging at his collar. “Espada said it’s tradition to wait until the Circus Crowning, the night before the Ball.”
“The night before!” Sophie choked. “But how do we match colors and plan our entrance and—”
“This is why we make the oath.” Tedros took his wicker basket of lamb sandwiches, saffron couscous, and almond mousse from a green-haired nymph. “And one for the lady as well.”
The nymph ignored Sophie and held out a basket to the next Ever. Tedros seized the handle.
“I said one for the lady.”
The nymph tightened its grip on the basket.
“Lamb is hard to digest anyway,” Sophie fretted—
But the prince held on until the nymph surrendered the basket with a grunt. Tedros handed it to Sophie. “Like you said, they better get used to it.”
Her eyes widened. “You’ll … take me?”
“You’re so beautiful when you want something.”
Sophie touched him. “Promise me,” she said, breathless. “Promise me you’ll take me to the Ball.”
Tedros looked down at her soft hands, holding the laces of his shirt.
“All right,” he exhaled finally. “I promise. But tell anyone and I’ll put a snake in your corsage.”
With a squeal, Sophie threw herself into his arms. She could plan her gown after all.
With that, the #1 Ever and #1 Never, storybook enemies in body and soul, sat hand in hand under a towering oak. Tedros suddenly noticed all the Evers glaring at him, stunned by his disloyalty. Sophie saw Nevers, who she had preached to for weeks about Villain Pride, glower at her, betrayed.
Tensing, she and Tedros bit into sandwiches at the same time.
“Is the witch still contagious?” Tedros said quickly. “It’s her first day back in class.”
Sophie