The School for Good and Evil #6: One True King

by Soman Chainani

  “I can’t move,” Tedros gritted, stuck between trolls.

  “Neither can I,” said Agatha, a throng of Rainbow Gale nymphs blocking her.

  Drumbeats thundered in the distance.

  “Quit your pushin’,” a troll snarled at Tedros. “King Rhian’s comin’. We’ll all get a good look.”

  Tedros and Agatha ducked their heads, hoping the troll hadn’t inspected them too closely.

  Drums boomed louder, followed by a flourish of horns.

  “That must be Japeth!” Agatha whispered to her prince. “We need to hurry—”

  Fanfare exploded behind them, the trumpets of a royal procession, as the trees and bushes around Foxwood’s border began to shake. The foliage burst open, a parade of toy horses rolling through, every horse the size of an elephant, each completely covered in mosaics of . . . candy. There was a gumdrop horse, a lollipop horse, a marzipan horse, a caramel brittle horse, a cake truffle horse, a macaron horse, even a horse wrapped in tiny butterscotch balls. But the greatest horse of all, twice as tall as the rest, was latticed in bright red licorice, and atop this horse rose a figure in a red head-to-toe veil, her eyes gleaming through diaphanous silk, an enormous crown of white spun sugar extending off her head like antlers. The fanfare seemed to be coming from inside her horse, the veiled stranger striking poses to each new beat—tree pose, wheel pose, even a headstand in her saddle—like some sort of equestrian yoga, before the toy animals all rolled to a stop and the drums fell to silence. Hands on hips, the red woman stood with a high-heeled boot on her horse’s head and glared down at the hundred armies of the Woods.

  “Who claims to have authority here?” she announced in a mystifying accent at once low-class and posh.

  A sea of men gaped back at her.

  “I said, who claims authority here?” she drawled.

  “Me! Me!” yelped a voice far away, before a short, balding man in a lopsided crown popped up amidst the armies, wrestling his way through. He was red-faced and sweaty, with an egg-colored tunic and hideous brown scarf that made him look a bit like Humpty Dumpty. “I’m King Dutra of Foxwood! This is my kingdom!”

  “Incorrect, wee little man,” said the red stranger. “This is my kingdom. This entire Woods is my kingdom. I am the Sugar Queen, diva supreme and mistress of realms across the Savage Sea, come to claim the throne of Camelot, as is my right.”

  The king looked as gobsmacked as the soldiers around him. “B-b-but this is King Rhian’s land—King Rhian of Camelot—”

  “As far as I know, there is no king of Camelot at present,” the Sugar Queen snipped. “Arthur’s will specified two contenders for his throne. I don’t care who the second contestant is, but one of them is me. The Tournament of Kings is ongoing, is it not? A sword trapped in a stone that will decide the next king? Well, when Excalibur feels my touch, I assure you . . . I will be king.”

  Tedros squeezed Agatha’s arm. “What in the—” But Agatha was studying the Sugar Queen, who seemed to be staring right at her.

  Meanwhile, the Foxwood king puffed his belly and stood taller. “I am loyal to the Lion. Every man here is. You have no jurisdiction on this side of the sea. Return to your sugar swamp and be gone!”

  The Sugar Queen’s eyes fell on him through her veil. “You are short and incompetent. An unforgivable combination in a man. One more word and I shall open my horses, unleashing a poisoned sugar mist that will slay you and all your armies with a single breath. Then I can conquer your lands as I have all others: in silence and peace.” The king looked appalled, but the Sugar Queen went on: “That said, I am known for my fairness and generosity. If King Rhian believes he has a claim to the sword, then let him come to me and explain why, before we each take our turn in full view of the people.”

  The Foxwood king was sweating so profusely it was dripping into his mouth. “King Rhian has not yet arrived . . . delayed by an attack of traitorous mongooses in the forest . . .”

  “Then I’ll proceed to my accommodations at Snow White’s cottage. Snow and I met years ago before her unfortunate death. She would sail across the Savage Sea and come stay with me at Chateau Sugar. Became dear friends, she and I. Left me her cottage in her will. Now to be my royal palace on this side of the sea,” the Sugar Queen declared, her horse procession gliding in Agatha’s direction as stunned soldiers made way. “Bring King Rhian to my palace the instant he arrives. Failure to do so will result in all of your deaths, including his. And given I trust not a one of you, I shall take two hostages, who will be killed if you disobey.”

  From the butterscotch horse, tiny hands suddenly reached out from its mouth and yanked Agatha and Tedros inside.

  Agatha heard Tedros yowl in surprise, her hand holding his in the dark, before they were pulled apart, Agatha caught by warm bodies she couldn’t see. The smell of sweet, cloying candy overwhelmed her. She threw off her helmet: between cracks in the licorice shell, she glimpsed the King of Foxwood chasing their horse. “You’ve kidnapped Akgul soldiers! This is illegal! You have no right!”

  “Bring King Rhian to me or their blood will be on your hands!” the Sugar Queen bellowed, her procession picking up pace, breaking through the last of the soldiers. The king toddled after them with his coterie of bodyguards, shouting things Agatha could no longer hear, her body tossed and jostled by whoever it was that was holding her up.

  A boy gasped behind her—

  Agatha whirled to see Tedros, helmet off, holding his lit finger like a spotlight. “Gnomes!” he said.

  Agatha followed his glow to an entire fleet of the ruddy, cone-capped dwarves packed into the horse, jogging their tiny feet on the ground and pushing the candied procession along. They shielded their eyes from Tedros’ glow, before a toothless granny gnome cupped her fist over the prince’s finger, plunging them back into darkness. Outside, they were approaching Snow White’s cottage, nestled into a clearing. Colorful shrubs had grown around the ramshackle two-floor house made of lumpy wood with a domed roof shaped like a princess’s hat. “Oh, no, no, this won’t do at all,” Agatha heard the Sugar Queen sigh, an array of hot pink spells firing at the cottage, refitting it into a chic candy chalet, with gingerbread eaves, gumball stucco, and powdered sugar windows, along with a lethally sharp rock-candy fence around the house and a blinking sign:

  Chateau Sugar East

  No Visitors Allowed

  (Except King Rhian)

  Horses plowed forward and the door to Chateau Sugar East magically swung open, sugarcoated ponies all jamming into the dusty foyer one by one, before the licorice horse piled in last and the door slammed and bolted shut, the Foxwood king’s belligerent shouts still echoing outside.

  Instantly, Agatha felt her horse bust open, the licorice shattering, as all the gnomes dispersed, wagging their bottoms and eating up the sweet debris. All the other horses erupted in a carnage of candy, not just gnomes flooding out (including a full marching band), but friends and first years too: Willam, Bogden, Valentina, Aja, Laithan, Ravan, Vex, Brone . . . But Agatha couldn’t count them all, for there was a ghostly heap of red silk sweeping towards her, snatching her and Tedros and pinning them against a wall, before the Sugar Queen flung off her veil and leveled them both with an emerald glare.

  “I’m going to kill that dirty, rotten Snake and here’s how,” said Sophie.

  HER PLAN WAS brutally simple.

  Step 1: Bait Japeth here, already in progress. The moment he arrived in Foxwood, he’d hear of his new rival and come straight to Chateau Sugar East.

  Step 2: Act like his friend. A fellow ruler simply here to iron out a misunderstanding.

  Step 3: Lure him into the house alone.

  Step 4: Ambush him with a hundred gnomes and students from the school and rid the Woods of the Snake once and for all.

  “All done in a matter of minutes,” Sophie said, her red veil magically refitting into Evelyn’s familiar white dress. “Then while Japeth is nowhere to be found . . . Tedros appears, pulls the sword out of the stone, and
voilà!—the true Lion reveals himself. An unassailable plan. The End of Ends. Absolutely foolproof.”

  “You know I’m not one for Sophie’s schemes, especially one that traps me in a knockoff of my mother’s house,” said Hester, tramping in from another room with Anadil, the two having arrived before. “That said, the plan isn’t shabby.”

  “Could have done without the circus, though,” Anadil grouched, gnomes around her gorging on candy.

  “We have lookouts to alert us when he’s coming,” Sophie added, peeking through shutters at Bodhi and Laithan, posted at the rock-candy gates and wearing Tedros’ and Agatha’s stolen Akgul helmets. Sophie sealed the shutters once more, so no one could see into the house. She turned to her best friend. “What do you think, Aggie?”

  There were things about the plan Agatha hated.

  Inviting the Snake here.

  Sophie taking on the burden of danger.

  But there were also things that Agatha liked: Tedros would have a clear route to winning the third test. And no matter how unfairly Japeth fought, this was too big an ambush for him to survive. His death would truly be a taste of his own medicine.

  Only Tedros didn’t seem to see it that way.

  He had a pensive frown on his face, his back against the wall, his eyes on the closed-up windows.

  “It’s a good plan, Teddy,” said Sophie. “But I can’t take all the credit. I had a little inspiration from a friend.”

  She looked over Agatha’s shoulder. Agatha turned—

  “Reaper!” she said.

  Her cat glided towards her on a blue-velvet pillow, hoisted by two gnomes. Reaper bowed his head to Agatha, his crown slipping over his bald, shriveled ears. “The gnomes care little about the human world. But they do care about their king,” he said. “So when I found out you and your friends were in danger . . . they were willing to leave the comforts of Gnomeland to follow that king into battle.”

  Agatha plucked him off the pillow and hugged him tight. Reaper scowled: “When in the presence of my subjects, I’d prefer a more distant approach.”

  “When in the presence of my cat, I know nothing but love,” said Agatha, squeezing him harder. “I thought you could only talk to humans if you were under a spell.”

  “Turns out learning man’s language isn’t difficult,” said Reaper, “given its dim-witted constructions and lack of finesse.”

  Brone poked his doughy head in from the back room: “If anyone wants real food, Merlin’s hat is cooking!”

  All at once, students ganged towards him, the gnomes content with their candy, while Reaper took advantage of the hubbub to hop from Agatha’s arms and scamper away.

  “Might as well be well-fed when the Snake comes,” Sophie said, dragging Agatha ahead.

  Agatha pinched her arm playfully. “I really do like this new Sophie who eats honeycake, is the queen of candy, and makes feasting a priority while in the throes of danger.”

  “You know how one day you woke up and discovered boys aren’t the toxic poison you thought they were? Well, boys and cake have a lot in common, it turns out,” Sophie said with a wink.

  Agatha let go of her hand. “Sophie . . . is everything okay? When I saw you in the fireflies, you looked . . .”

  Her best friend’s smile evaporated. She avoided Agatha’s eyes and whistled at Tedros: “Teddy, sweetie, what are you waiting for? When have you ever turned down a meal?”

  But the prince stayed in place, fluttering his hand back as if to say he’d be along soon, before he was cornered by first-year girls, Valentina and Laralisa and Priyanka, asking obsequious questions about his time at school (“Which bed was yours in Honor 52?” “What was your favorite thing to do in the Groom Room?”).

  Agatha gave Sophie a look. “We should wait for him.”

  “There will always be someone chasing after him, darling. He’s Tedros, for goodness’ sakes. But he’ll always love you,” Sophie said, pulling her into the living room. “Speaking of chasing, who’s that?” She ogled a tall, stylish boy laying out a banquet of plates on a wooden table.

  “That’s Merlin,” said Agatha.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” Sophie sighed.

  The living room was a hive of activity, bodies packed around snuggly calico chairs and shuffling along the fluffy red-brown rug towards a colorful spread—kale pakoras, spice-baked root vegetables, crispy-fried mushrooms with garlic chutney, pasta Provençale, beet-glazed radishes, squash and okra curry, fava beans with sungold tomatoes, cinnamon-coconut rice, and chocolate-dipped churros—as if Merlin’s hat was determined to make its young ward and all his fellow teenagers eat their vegetables.

  Meanwhile, between bites of churros, Ravan and Vex were comparing iron pokers from the sooty fireplace, looking for the best weapon to ambush the Snake. So, too, were Bossam and Devan and other first-year boys searching the kitchen for knives that might work as daggers. Near the boys, Agatha spotted Beatrix, Kiko, and Reena in Knights of Eleven armor, boiling up a big pot of oil—

  “You’re here!” Agatha said, racing in.

  “After Shazabah, Maid Marian took some of us to Sherwood Forest,” said Beatrix, accelerating the boil with her fingerglow. “Met this witch doctor, who had a crystal ball.”

  “Showed us you were headed this way, so we came as fast as we could,” said Reena.

  “Got here last night,” Kiko added, giving Agatha a sleepless frown. “The beds are made for dwarves.”

  Agatha stood straighter. “Wait, if you went with Maid Marian, then that means you were with—”

  “Hello, dears,” a voice chimed.

  Everyone turned to see Dot swanning down a small staircase, a round-faced, young teenager once more, munching on a plate full of vegetables turned to chocolate.

  “Think I’m going to be a witch doctor when I grow up,” Dot beamed.

  Near Agatha, Hester growled: “Just when I was getting used to hausfrau Dot.”

  “At least that one moped instead of talked,” Anadil agreed.

  But Dot was already hugging and kissing them both, her two witch friends squirming and gagging, but doing nothing to free themselves.

  “Marian’s still with you?” Hester asked.

  “She and Nicola went to help Queen Jacinda in Jaunt Jolie,” said Dot. “The old knights turned against Jacinda after we replaced them. Staged a coup and tried to take over the castle. So much for being loyal to their queen! Never seen Marian so determined to put men in their place. Perhaps she wants history to remember her as more than the damsel of thieves and sheriffs.” Dot winked. “Her daughter too.”

  Hester and Agatha gaped at each other.

  “Oh, don’t give her too much credit for figuring it out,” Anadil moaned. “Wasn’t like she solved the riddle of the sphinx.”

  “Means I’m half-Ever, though,” Dot said, looking tense. “Not exactly a witch.” She eyed Hester and Anadil nervously, as if she might be expelled from the coven.

  “Well . . . ,” said Hester. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  Willam came up behind the witches: “Want to stake out upstairs with us? We can dive-bomb the Snake once he comes in.”

  “My idea that Will’s taking credit for,” Bogden chirped.

  Agatha smiled, watching the witches and boys go upstairs, so much love amongst them that Agatha nearly forgot her own true love’s head was at risk and his enemy on the way here. She turned to look for Tedros—

  Sophie intercepted her, nibbling on churros. “You know how Merlin always smelled a little like an old sweater left in a trunk too long? The younger Merlin doesn’t smell like that at all. Not that he seemed thrilled to see me. But you know I love a challenge. Grrr. Agatha, are you really not eating? Do I have to make a plate for you?”

  There was something in her tone, manic and forced, that bothered Agatha. It reminded her of the old Sophie. The performer. The actress. That’s when it dawned on her. “Sophie?” said Agatha, looking at her friend. “Where’s Hort?”

  The facade crac
ked. Pain spilled through, tears rushing to Sophie’s eyes. Agatha lost her breath, her hand flying to her mouth—

  Two horns clashed outside, urgent and badly played.

  “That’s the signal!” Sophie gasped, forcing composure. She spun on her heel. “Places, everyone! He’s coming! Snake’s coming!”

  Everyone sprung into motion like guests at a demented surprise party, toting makeshift weapons: chairs and cutlery and porcelain dinner plates. Quickly, Agatha peeked through the window shutters. In front of the rock-candy gates, she glimpsed Bodhi and Laithan tooting gnome-sized trumpets as a crowd of thousands swarmed towards Chateau Sugar East: soldiers from other kingdoms, citizens from Foxwood chanting “Lion! Lion!,” along with a phalanx of gold-shielded Camelot soldiers, and at the fore of them all, a boy in blue and gold, atop a white horse. Agatha snapped the shutters and whirled around, scanning for Tedros. But Sophie shoved her down behind a couch, the Sugar Queen morphing back into her red veil, directing her own army through the house.

  “Everyone hide! Out of sight! And complete silence from here on out!” she commanded. “Once he knocks, I’ll let the bastard in. Then attack!”

  The house plunged to an anxious hush, every last body stuffed behind a wall or chair or chaise or stashed in the kitchen or upstairs, leaving only Sophie standing in the middle of the living room. Agatha scrambled back up, grabbing Sophie’s arm—

  “Hide, you goose!” Sophie hissed, burying her friend in a gaggle of gnomes, who were armed with jagged pieces of candy. But Agatha clung to Sophie’s wrist.

  “Where’s Tedros?” she pressed.

  “Hiding quietly, like you should be!” Sophie said. She wrenched free of Agatha, sweeping towards the foyer in blood-colored silk—