No one told her why. They’d just acted like she was their prisoner and gave her thirty seconds to pack before they flung her aboard and dumped her in the worst room. She didn’t even know who else was on the crew, since no one had bothered to come check on her once they’d set sail.
It hurt her feelings, to be honest. Hester was one of her favorite characters in The Tale of Sophie and Agatha and being treated like a stray dog by your favorite characters is worse than never meeting them at all. Even Dot, who seemed so jolly and sweet on the page, hadn’t managed a proper “hello.”
I should have known, she thought. Girls like me are always left out of fairy tales.
Nicola steeled herself. Well, if this crew couldn’t show her the most basic manners, then she wasn’t going to make an effort either. Instead, she would handle them the way she’d handled rude customers at Pa’s pub in Gavaldon: with grace, dignity, and pity for their poor souls.
Thunder blasted outside and a slash of lightning lit up her window.
Nicola unpacked her toothbrush, soap, and comb in her tiny bathroom. The boat had been swerving and lurching through this storm for the past hour.
Whoever was steering had no idea what they were doing.
“Man the sails!” Agatha cried, soaked to the bone as she gripped the captain’s wheel—
Nicola snuck closer to the galley door so she could peer through the crack and survey the whole deck.
Lightning ripped through a sail and the Igraine lurched off-course, rain flooding over the rails. The storm had exploded only a few hours after they left, caging them into whirling winds they couldn’t escape. Hester and the witches were siphoning water off the deck using their fingerglows—
“Lady of the Lake controls these waters! Should be giving us easy passage!” Hester was shouting at Anadil and Dot.
Meanwhile, Nicola’s classmate Bogden was clutching a red-haired boy as he puked overboard; Sophie was crawling on all fours up the deck; and another boy was batting down the hatches, which kept coming loose—
Hort! Nicola gasped, recognizing him. Her whole body went hot. . . .
Wind slammed against the boat, spinning it like a pinwheel, knocking Sophie into a railing. The broken sail flapped over her, lashing against the mast. A huge shard of wood snapped under the rogue sail and came shearing down, about to spear the deck—
Instantly, Dot turned the shard to chocolate chips, which scattered into the rain. Hester’s demon flew off her neck and hoisted up the heavy sail; Anadil’s three rats secured its ropes (all the while catching chocolate in their mouths).
“What did I . . . say . . . about . . . boats!” Sophie mewled, makeup smeared, soggy hair caught around her neck like a noose. Blown side to side, she scooted on her stomach up the steps to the captain’s level—
“The wind is sending us everywhere but Avalon,” Agatha growled, wrangling the wheel. “We should be there by now!”
“You said the ship listens to you!” Sophie squawked behind her.
“The ship, not the weather! The faster I tell it to go, the more the wind hits us!”
Sophie lunged off the top step and grabbed hold of Agatha’s ankle. “Isn’t it a magic ship? Make it fly or turn invisible!”
“What good is being invisible in a storm! Or flying higher into it!” Agatha said, squinting into the rain. “We must be fifty miles off-course!”
There were clearer skies to the east, which would give them a chance to regroup. She just needed to steer the boat out of this wind-cage—
“SAIL EAST!” she shouted at the wheel.
The Igraine bounded eastwards but bashed into headwinds, making it swing back and forth like one of those sickening pirate-ship rides at the Gavaldon Fair. Sophie lost grip of Agatha’s shoe and went rolling down the stairs.
“AGATHA!” she shrieked, hanging off the staircase banister.
Hort ran to save her, but tripped and plunged down a hatch. Bogden was now retching alongside the red-haired boy, while the witches tumbled across the deck like marbles. As the ship bobbed, water surged over the rail. The Igraine started to sink—
“Mind if I help?” a voice said behind Agatha.
Agatha turned to see a short, buxom black girl her age leaning against a rail, arms folded. She had a catlike face with thin eyes and sloping brows, along with springy black curls immune to the rain and a pink first-year’s Ever uniform at odds with her cold expression.
“Nicola?” Agatha said, shouting over the storm. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“And yours is Agatha, though the Agatha I’ve read about would have come and said hello so maybe that’s not your name after all,” Nicola replied. Agatha winced, but Nicola didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Steer like it’s a riptide. The wheel’s spinning left because you’re trying to go right. If you want to go right, turn the ship left.”
“AGGIE! HELP!” Sophie howled below, a seagull on her head.
Nicola narrowed her eyes. “Seagulls love the smell of hot decay. Wonder what that says about your friend.”
She turned to find Agatha gaping at her.
“I just told you how to get us out of this storm,” Nicola said.
Agatha shook her head. “Sailing in the opposite direction doesn’t make sense—”
Nicola glared harder. “Listen, I may be a first-year Reader who no one on this boat cares about, but that also means I’ve read your fairy tale and know you’re a smart girl. Smart enough to realize you’ve been trying to get us out of this storm for the past hour and have instead put us on the verge of a very watery death.”
Another tidal wave detonated onto the deck, drenching Agatha.
“One more and we’ll get to see who can hold their breath the longest,” said Nicola.
Agatha swiveled towards the wheel. “SAIL WEST!” she commanded—
The Igraine pivoted smoothly to the west for just a moment. Then the current took over, counterposing the ship east. The wooden girl on the masthead swept her lantern towards the dawn-lit clearing. In a single move, the boat broke free of the wind-trap and glided towards Avalon.
Sophie dropped like a stone to the deck, her gown blown over her head like a broken umbrella. The rest of the crew peeked up, no longer thrashing or scrambling or retching. All of their eyes honed in on the new girl, who’d just saved their necks.
Sophie was the only one who didn’t smile at her.
Nicola sauntered towards the galley in her sheepskin boots. “Is breakfast ready? Or should I take care of that too?”
“Wait! If you’re a Reader, how’d you know how to do that!” Agatha called out behind her.
“The same way I know everything,” the girl replied, without breaking stride. “I read.”
“If you’re from Gavaldon, how did we never meet?” quizzed Agatha.
“Didn’t I see you in a Never’s uniform the first day of school?” asked Hort, spooning his oatmeal.
“Why did the Storian write you into our crew?” said Willam.
“Do you even know what a fourth-year quest is?” asked Hester.
Sitting across the galley dining table painted with Camelot’s crest, Nicola picked at a soggy tower of egg and cheese. “The real question is why an enchanted pot can’t make an omelet when I was making them at six years old.”
“Think Dovey gave us a broken pot,” Bogden said, snacking on potato skins. “I asked for pancakes and it made these instead.”
“Broken pot, broken map . . . Dovey’s house certainly isn’t in order,” Dot murmured.
Nicola was midbite when she saw the ragtag Inquisition still gawking at her. “Oh, so I’ve been on this boat for hours and now I exist?”
(“BOOBESHWAR!” Sophie screeched from her cabin.)
Nicola’s lips tightened. “Well, let me answer your questions, then. Agatha, we never met in Gavaldon because you spent your time on Graves Hill and I spent mine at Papa Pipp’s Pub, helping my father cook for his customers. I knew your mother, though, since she treated P
a for his bad back. As for your friend, Sophie, she met me a few times in Gavaldon, but she doesn’t seem to remember, since girls like her only notice you if you’re useful or a threat.”
Nicola turned to Willam. “I haven’t the faintest clue why the Storian put me on your crew, though from what I can tell, maybe it’s to keep you all alive.”
Nicola turned to Hort, blushing hard. “As for why I’m now in an Ever’s uniform, that’s a long story. But I’ve read The Tale of Sophie and Agatha and you’re a lot more handsome in person than on the page—except to be honest, I’d prefer the old you before you buffed up to look like Tedros, who’s about as enticing as vanilla pudding. But even if you’re deluded about your own self-image and are hooked on blond, skinny girls, the fact I’m talking to the real Hort instead of reading about you is the only nice part of being on this boat. Especially since you didn’t answer any of my letters.”
Hort dropped his spoon.
Nicola turned to Hester. “What do I know? I know we’re on a quest to find out why your classmates’ quests are failing and prevent any more from dying. I know that the Storian says a ‘Snake’ has made its way into the Woods and is determined to take down a ‘Lion.’ And I know only Agatha seems to know what those words mean. Which is why I’m curious as to why everyone is asking me questions instead of her.”
Everyone stared at Nicola.
“Oh, this little fella told me everything,” Nicola explained, as Boobeshwar hopped from her lap, where he’d been hidden, and perched on her shoulder. “Mongooses are chatty if you rub their heads. Learned that from reading The Brave Maharajah.”
She zeroed in on Agatha. “But enough about me. Since this is now a quest that belongs to us all, I think it’s time you told us what you know about lions and snakes.”
Everyone turned to Agatha.
“There you are, Boobeshwar!” a voice rang out.
Sophie paraded in wearing a crystal-studded blue-and-white sailor’s dress and towering heels. “Sorry, I needed to freshen up and—” She tripped over a mound of weapons they’d taken from school: swords, daggers, axes, spears. “Hort, for heaven’s sakes, put these somewhere else. Can’t have warmongering in the kitchen. Shall we start breakfast? I’m famish—”
Sophie bit her lip.
The crew was already eating.
And no one was even glancing in her direction, including Hort, who was ogling Nicola as if she’d shot an arrow through his heart.
Sophie cleared her throat. “Surely it’s proper form to wait for a Dean before—”
Nicola whirled and shot her a withering look, Sophie’s mongoose on her shoulder. Then she turned back to Agatha.
“You were saying, Captain?”
Nicola wasn’t supposed to be here. Not on this ship, not at this school, not in the Woods. She should be in Gavaldon right now, working at the pub with Pa.
But her two older brothers, Gus and Gagan, had thrown a wrench in all that.
They wanted Papa Pipp’s Pub for themselves, but Pa had no intention of leaving his legacy to two boys who would sell the place off the second he died. Instead, he decreed that Nicola would inherit the pub. With her in charge, Gus and Gagan could be kept at bay, continuing to pass plates and scrub pots to make a wage for the rest of their lives. (To make matters worse, Nicola beat them at every sport they played.)
Day after day, her brothers wished: If only she wasn’t around.
Then one day they made their wish come true.
When Nicola was younger, the whole town was petrified of the School for Good and Evil. Every four years, two children were kidnapped from Gavaldon—the best-behaved kid for Good, the worst-behaved kid for Evil—and neither would ever see their family or friends again. Instead, they’d disappear into the Woods and reappear years later in illustrated tales that magically arrived at Mr. Deauville’s Storybook Shop. Any child not taken would sigh with relief, knowing they were safe for four more years.
But that was before Sophie and Agatha.
Now a school of horrors had become every child’s dream.
Statues of scenes from Sophie and Agatha’s tale were built all over Gavaldon. Thousands of fan letters were left at these monuments, along with pleas to be kidnapped and taken to the school. For Halloween, children dressed as Sophie (pink dresses, blond wigs), Agatha (black sack dresses), and Tedros (no shirt, a sword). At Gavaldon Primary School, teachers used The Tale of Sophie and Agatha to explain everything from grammar (“Is ‘stymph’ a noun or proper noun?”) to math (“If there are 10 kids from each school in the Trial by Tale and 6 kids die during it, how many make it out alive?”) The annual Gavaldon Fair became a School for Good and Evil theme park, with a Wish Fish Fortune-Telling Pool, Flowerground Roller Coaster, Trial by Tale Corn Maze, Princess Uma’s Animal Merry-Go-Round, and Halfway Bay Wave Pool.
But it wasn’t just children who were captivated by Sophie and Agatha. Stefan, Sophie’s father, had become the most popular man in Gavaldon after the girls’ tale revealed the Elders to be corrupt villains. Soon, the Council was replaced by a Mayor’s Office, to which Stefan was elected by unanimous vote. Stefan’s first act as Mayor was to tack a note for his daughter on his door demanding that a) she and Agatha visit home immediately and b) to satisfy Gavaldon’s clamoring children, the School should start accepting applications from Readers, provided new students could return home on holidays to see their families.
Nothing came of the first request.
But a week later, the citizens of Gavaldon woke to a proclamation on their doors, announcing open applications to the School for Good and Evil, which would now host a new class of Evers and Nevers each year, beginning in August, instead of every four years. In addition, each household received a shiny new copy of The Ever Never Handbook, a guide to the School for Good and Evil with rules, classes, uniforms, and most importantly, formal applications to the school itself, with questions such as: If you were marooned on a deserted island, what three things would you like to have? and If I were an animal, I’d like to be a . . . Children eagerly filled out these forms and left them in sealed envelopes near the girls’ statues, the envelopes piling up week after week like parchment mountains . . . until one night all the applications magically disappeared.
Nicola had been tempted to apply, of course. She’d read thousands of storybooks and knew she was smarter and stronger than any of the Readers that had been taken before.
Who needs Agatha and Sophie when they can have me? she’d thought. Those girls had made for a lively story, but their tale was over. It was time for a new hero.
And yet, as much as she wanted it to be her . . . it couldn’t be.
She had an aging Pa to care for, customers to manage, and a business to run. If she left, everything her father had worked for—and his father and his father and his father—would be wasted by her brothers.
So it was a complete shock when two weeks ago, in the middle of a hot August night, she was magically sucked out of her bed, flung onto a bony bird, whisked on a harrowing ride through a dark forest, and dropped into the School for Evil’s sludgy moat with more than a hundred villainous Nevers-to-be.
Her stupid, no-good, nasty brothers! Gus and Gagan must have filled out an application under her name. But there was no time to stew about it. The wolves were already whipping children onto shore. . . .
She had to get home. Pa was surely worried sick. But as she was shoved into a saggy black uniform and thrust books and a schedule, Nicola felt a sense of déjà vu. She’d read The Tale of Sophie and Agatha so many times that she couldn’t help but enjoy being in this world she knew so much about.
Staying one day wouldn’t hurt, would it? she wondered. If she stayed, she could explore places she’d only known in a book . . . participate in challenges she already knew how to beat . . . Imagine: she might even get a glimpse of beautiful, perfect Hort. . . .
But she never got the chance.
Evil didn’t want her.
The dorm locked her out; hallways e
jected her into the bay; doors slammed in her face and spellbooks on her hand. Everywhere she went the castle rebelled, until rooms started caving in the moment she entered. She had no idea why any of this was happening, yet Dean Sophie held her personally responsible for the mess and marched her across the bridge to Professor Dovey in the School for Good. But seeing the chaos Nicola had caused in Evil’s castle, Dovey didn’t want her either. She told Sophie that since Nicola had been delivered to Evil’s door, she was Sophie’s problem.
So there was nothing Dean Sophie could do except drag Nicola back across the bridge, grumbling about Readers and the burdens of being a Dean and why she’d been sentimental enough to listen to her father’s idea of accepting Readers in the first place. . . .
That’s when Nicola smashed into the invisible barrier.
The bridge had let her go from Evil to Good but wouldn’t let her go from Good to Evil. She was trapped, no matter how much she tried to ram through. And unlike Evil, the Good towers had no allergy to her, welcoming Nicola without a tremor.
So the decision was made for her.
She would spend the next few months as an Ever. At Christmas, she’d go back home with the other Readers and would stay with Pa forever, while the rest returned to school.
But until then . . . Nicola would wear pink.
“The Lion and the Snake is a fairy tale,” said Agatha, sipping ginger tea.
“Not one I’ve heard of,” said Nicola as she cleared the breakfast plates.
“Nor I,” said Hort, magically erasing stains off the Camelot crest on the table.
“Nor I,” chorused Bogden and Willam as they washed salt off portholes.
“Nor I,” said Hester as the witches took dishes from Nicola and cleaned them with their fingerglows.
“Well, I’ve certainly heard of it,” Sophie preened, cozying up to Agatha.
“No, you haven’t,” Agatha snapped to Nicola’s delight. “No one here knows The Lion and the Snake because it’s a fairy tale about Camelot and one mainly told inside its walls. I read it out loud to spoiled children yesterday to raise money for our broken drawbridge.”
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