The Origin of Kyra

Chapter eight

"Toad's-blood shots!" declared Mal, leaping into the room as if she were just another guest. "For everyone!"

And just like that, the party began again, as quickly as it had stopped. It was like the entire room exhaled in one relieved breath. Mal isn't mad. Kyra isn't banning us from the streets. Mal and Kyra aren't renaming us Slop.

Not yet.

Kyra could see their relief on their faces, and she didn't blame them. They were right. The way she'd been feeling lately, it was certainly something to celebrate.

So the crowd cheered, and toad's-blood shots splashed across the room by the cupful, and Mal and Kyra, in a show of generous sportsmanship, chugged a slimy cup right along with the rest.

She circled the party, pilfering a wallet from one of the Gastons, stopping to share a mean giggle with Ginny Gothel about the dress Harriet Hook was wearing, ducking under an overenthusiastic pirate swinging from the chandelier, taking a bite out of someone else's devil dog and grabbing a mouthful of dry popcorn. She walked into the hallway and bumped into Jay, who was out of breath after winning the latest dance-off.

"Having fun?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Where'd Carlos go?"

Jay laughed and pointed toward a pair of black shoes poking out from behind a sheet covering the biggest of the bookcases. "Hiding from his own party. Typical."

Kyra knew how Carlos felt, though she'd never admit it. Truly, she'd rather be almost anywhere on the whole Isle than at this party. Like her father, he hated the sights and sounds of revelry. Fun made him uncomfortable. Laughter? Gave him hives. But a vendetta was a vendetta, and he had more planned for this evening than just Deep, Dark, Secret or Death-Defying Dare.

"Come on," said Jay. "They're playing pin the tail on the minion over there, and Jace has like, ten

tails. Let's see if we can make it a dozen." "Maybe in a minute. Where's Princess Blueberry?" Mal asked. "I did a whole loop of this party,

and I didn't see her anywhere."

"You mean Evie? She's not here yet. Nobody seems to know if she's coming or not." Jay shrugged. "Castle kids."

"She has to come. She's the whole point. She's the only reason I'm even having this stupid party." Mal and Kyra hated when their evil schemes didn't go exactly as planned. This was the first step in Operation Take Down Evie, Or Else, and it had to work. Mal sighed, staring at the door. Pretending to be having fun at a party when you hated parties was the most tiresome thing in the world.

Mal had to agree with her mother on that one. "What are you two doing?" asked Anthony Tremaine, Lady Tremaine's sixteen-year-old grandson, a tall, elegant boy with dark hair swept off a haughty forehead. His clothes were as worn and ragged as everyone else's on the Isle, but somehow he always looked as if he was wearing custom tailoring. His dark leather coat was cut perfectly, his jeans the right dark wash. Maybe it was because Anthony had noble blood, and would probably have lived in Auradon except for his grandmother's being, you know, evil and banished. At one point he'd tried to get everyone on the Isle to call him Lord Tremaine, but the villain kids had all just laughed in his face.

"Just talking," said Mal.

"Evil plotting," said Jay. They looked at each other.

Something about Anthony's handsome face brought to Mal's mind another handsome boy-the prince from her dream. He'd said he was her friend. His smile was kind and his voice gentle. Mal shuddered.

"Do you want something?" Mal asked Anthony coolly.

"Yes. To dance." Anthony looked at her expectantly. She looked at him, confused. "Wait-with me?" Nobody had ever asked her before. But she'd never really been to a party before either.