Never After (School for Good and Evil x Reader)

Chapter 40

On his knees, Tedros snatched another lamb chop off the floor and ripped into it like a lion, shredding off the meat and flinging the bone onto the heap of others. After devouring six more, he clutched his stomach, slightly green, trying to hold it all down.

The cell door squeaked as I pushed open, forearm streaked with dried blood, carrying two steaming mugs.

"Knew you'd overeat," I said, and put down a mug of frothy liquid in front of him. "Bit of rice stewed in hot water calms the stomach."

Tedros stared at me.

"Drink up," I ordered.

Tedros stuck his tongue in the tea and put it down, frowning. "Late for Storian duty, aren't you, Peter?"

"Told Manley I should interrogate you first," I said sternly as I sat facing him. "Tell me where it is, Tedros."

"For the last time, Tristan and I buried it to keep it away from Y/n, Sophie, and Agatha," he snapped. "We hid it under a loose brick. I don't know how it could have moved." He saw Peter studying him and hung his head. "Look, I wouldn't lie to you, Peter. Not after what you've done for me."

"But who took it, then?" I said. "Did they question Tristan?"

"Pfffft, he'd be the first one to hand it over to a teacher," Tedros groused, kicking off his boots. "Besides, no one's seen that mouse for days. Probably left before classes started. Never liked the other boys."

"He should be talked to once he's seen again, still. This is serious. Castor said we're all doomed if we don't find—"

"Because the pen reflects the soul of its master," Tedros mumbled, slumping deeper. "If it gets into Dean Sader's hands, you can bet there'll be a lot of boys dying at the end of stories. Starting with mine."

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, brow drawing together in thought.

Mine. The word hit me harder than the prospect of Woods-wide death. I had always thought of it as me, Sophie, and Agatha's story, with Tedros as merely the love interest. But now I realized: Tedros thought it was his fairy tale . . . and that he deserved a happy ending just as much as we did.

"Agatha's wish for you," I said quietly. "How did you hear it?"

Tedros paused, jaw clenching. "I was nine when my mother left. It was the middle of the night, and I was asleep in the opposite wing. I remember bolting up in a pool of sweat and stumbling to the window without knowing why, my heart feeling like it was ripped open. The last thing I saw was my mother on my favorite horse, galloping into the Woods." He traced the space between bricks with his finger. "I woke up the same way when I felt Agatha's wish. She wanted me to hear it, Peter." His eyes watered. "And I believed it was true."

The veins in my arms jumped as I wrung my hands once. "Maybe it was true," I said. "Maybe something just. . . got in the way."

Tedros rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter. "You're a good friend, Peter. You didn't have to help me."

I shook my head. "I couldn't let you die," I said, not looking at him.

"Y/n said the same thing last year. We teamed up in the Trial, and she saved my life, but. . . then she ruined it. Agatha chose her." Vowed to protect me in the Trial— then left me to die alone," Tedros said, picking at a hole in his dirty black sock. "Suppose that's the difference between a girl and a boy."

I finally looked up, blinking wide. Tedros nodded. "Trust me, I know, Peter. She was every bit as Evil as the storybook says."

I swallowed back a scream of frustration. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault that Agatha came to me and left Tedros. That wasn't my decision. And now Tedros wanted me dead because of that.