Tedros clenched his teeth. What murderous plan did the witch have? Was Sophie in on it and planning to betray him? Were the two villains still friends? The prince lurched to his feet, heart thundering—then heard an odd scratching sound.
Turning, he saw the feathered pen magically finish writing in the tortoise’s log, and fall back into the snoring creature’s hand. Eyes narrowed, he moved in to peer at the log.
Flower Power: Plant Charms for a Happier World (Agatha, Purity 51)
Tedros snorted. Berating himself for doubting his princess, he went to retrieve his boots.
The rules of the Trial by Tale were few and precise. At the moment the sun went down, the first two challengers would enter the Blue Forest. Every fifteen minutes, another two would enter according to their pre-Trial ranks, until the last pair entered more than three hours after the first. Once inside, Nevers could attack Evers with their talents and any spell learned in class, while Evers could defend themselves with approved weapons or counterspells. The School Master’s conjures would hunt them both. There were no other rules. It was the challenger’s duty to recognize mortal danger and drop his enchanted handkerchief; the moment it touched ground, he would be safely removed from the Trial. Upon the first glint of sunrise, the wolves would call the end and whoever returned through the gates would be named the winner. There had never been more than one. Quite often, there were none at all.
Winter arrived with naughty timing, blowing glacial gusts into the Clearing just as the challengers entered. Everboys each carried a blue kite-shaped shield matching their navy cloak and a single weapon; most had chosen bows and arrows (blunted by Professor Espada to stun, rather than injure), though Chaddick and Tedros had opted for heavy training swords. Nearby, Evergirls quietly practiced their animal calls and tried to look as helpless as possible so boys would take them under their wings.
Across the field, the Trial Nevers hunched against bare trees in their cloaks, eyeing unchosen students crowd in from the tunnels. The unpicked Evers were ready for a slumber party, with pillows, blankets, baskets of spinach mousselines, creamy chicken crepes, bell pepper skewers, elderflower custard, and pitchers of cherry grenadine. Meanwhile, the unpicked Nevers hovered near their tunnel in slippers and nightcaps, ready to flee at their team’s first sign of humiliation.
While the wolves passed out the enchanted silk handkerchiefs—white for Evers, red for Nevers—Castor and Pollux lined up the competitors in order of their entrance. Because they fared worst in the pre-Trial challenges, Sophie and Kiko would enter exactly at sundown. Brone and Tristan would enter 15 minutes later, then Vex and Reena 15 minutes after that, and the pairs would continue until Hester and Tedros entered last.
At the back of the line, the prince took his white handkerchief from the wolf.
“Won’t be needing this,” he muttered, and stuffed it in his boot.
At the front of the line, Sophie clenched her red kerchief, ready to drop it the moment she entered. She wished she had paid more attention during the fitting. Her tunic drooped at the bosom, the cloak dragged on the ground, and the blue hood fell so far over her face it looked like she had no hea—
How could she think about clothes! Frantic, she scanned the crowd. Still no sign of Agatha.
“We’ve heard rumors that unqualified students may try to sneak into the Trial,” Pollux said next to Castor, an imposing two-headed shadow in waning light. “This year we’ve taken extra precautions.”
At first, Sophie thought he was referring to the wolves guarding every inch of gate. But then Castor lit a torch and she saw the gates were no longer made of gold—but of giant black and red spiders, crisscrossing magically with stingers poised.
Her heart sank. How could she sneak Agatha in now?
“If anyone cheats, they deserve to die.”
She turned.
“And I don’t put it past any of those villains,” Tedros said, golden cheeks ruddy with cold. He took her hand, still gripping her kerchief. “You can’t, Sophie. You can’t drop it.”
Without Agatha feeding lines, Sophie just nodded helplessly.
“When we team up, they’ll do anything to take one of us out—Evers, Nevers, School Master too,” said her prince. “We need to protect each other. I need you to have my back.”
Sophie nodded.
“You don’t have anything to say?”
“A kiss for luck?” she squeaked.
“In front of the whole school?” Tedros cocked a smile. “That’s an idea.”
Sophie lit up and thrust out her lips with relief. “A long one,” she sighed. “Just in case.”
“Oh I’ll give you a long one,” he grinned. “When we win. Right before I carry you into the Good castle.”
Sophie gagged. “But—but—suppose we don’t—”
Tedros gently pulled the red silk from her trembling fingers.
“We’re Good, Sophie,” he said tucking it deep in her coat pocket. “And Good always wins.”
In his clear blue eyes, Sophie saw Hester reflected behind her, hood lowered like the Grim Reaper.
In a flash, the wolves shoved her and Kiko to opposite ends of the North Gate. Hairy spiders hissed in her face and she lost her breath. Panicked, her eyes lurched to the School Master’s tower, lording over the Forest. In the last shred of sun, she could see his silhouette, watching from the window. Sophie whipped around looking for Agatha to save her, but all she saw was the sky fall dark over the Forest. From the School Master’s tower came a blast of silver sparks that veiled the Forest in a blurring haze—
“FIRST PAIR READY!” Castor boomed.
“No—wait!—”
Paws grabbed Sophie from behind and flung her into spiders. Hundreds of furry pincers probed her skin as she screamed. Clicking with permission, they magically parted, leaving her alone in the Forest’s torch-lit threshold. Wolves howled. Spiders sealed behind her.
The Trial had begun.
But Kiko was scampering east towards the Blueberry Fields, peeping back to make sure she wasn’t following.
Quickly Sophie took the west trail towards the Blue Brook, where she could hide under its bridge. She had expected the Forest to be pitch-dark and made Hort teach her a fire spell during breakfast. But tonight the trees fluoresced with an
ice-blue, blacklit sheen, glazing the Forest in arctic glow. Though the effect was ominous, she breathed relief. A flaming torch would have made her an easy target.
As she waded into the Fernfield, Sophie felt electric-blue fronds kiss her neck. Her body relaxed. She’d imagined a nonstop siege of horrors. But the Forest was quieter than she’d ever seen it. No skulking animals. No ominous howls. Just her in an ethereal meadow, wind strumming blades like harp strings.
As she waded through head-high ferns, she thought of Agatha. Did a teacher catch her brewing a plan? Did Hester intercept her?
Sophie felt pinpricks of sweat.
Or