The Last Ever After by Soman Chainani Page A

smiled at Agatha in the fading firelight and let her daughter go.
    Agatha crashed in dirt, twisting her ankle, before Tedros lifted her up in darkness, towing her towards the town gates. “No—I can’t leave her—” she croaked, resisting him.
    â€œâ€˜Don’t look back.’ That’s what she said,” Tedros fought, goading her ahead. “Trust your mother, Agatha. She’s a witch. A powerful witch. We’re the ones who need saving now.”
    Hearing the guards’ shouts, Agatha let Tedros shove her forward. She pinned her eyes on Graves Hill ahead, hobbling beside him. Don’t look back , she begged herself, Tedros clenching her like a vise. Don’t look back . . .
    Agatha looked back to see three guards hurdle the sinking firewall towards Callis, spears about to impale her. Her mother held her ground.
    â€œWhat is she doing?” Agatha choked, freezing in horror.
    â€œAgatha, don’t !” cried Tedros—
    Agatha broke free of him and started running back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING—”
    â€œKill her!” the Elder’s voice shouted faraway.
    Callis raised her arms, welcoming the guards.
    They charged and Agatha’s mother fell.
    â€œNO!” Agatha screamed, voice tearing out of her throat. She sank to her knees at the foot of Graves Hill. Her eyes fogged. Her heart deadened. All she saw was a blur of shadows swarming her mother as the shallow fires extinguished, an army of darkness overwhelming the last ashes of light.
    â€œShe let them . . . ,” Agatha whispered. “She let them kill her.”
    Little by little, she felt the dirt wet on her knees, the numbness wearing off to an onslaught of pain—the dagger-edged thoughts that she had no family anymore . . . that her only parent had deserted her . . . that her mother had given her nothing to come home to ever again. She curled into herself, sobbing with fury. Men were no match for a witch. She could have done another spell! She could have ripped them all to shreds! Agatha cried and cried until she heard a strange echo between shuddering breaths . . . the whispered sound of her name . . .
    Agatha lifted her eyes to a swollen-eyed boy standing over her, beautiful and scared, and for a moment, she saw nothing but a stranger. It was only when Agatha saw his legs unsteady, that she knew her prince was trying to tell her something. Slowly Tedros pointed a shaky finger over her head. Agatha turned.
    Six guards raced towards them from the square, armed with torches and spears.
    â€œWe have to run, Agatha,” Tedros rasped. “We have to run right now.”
    Agatha didn’t move, still nauseous. “How could she let them . . .”
    â€œTo save you, Agatha,” her prince implored, watching the guards gain ground. “And everything she did, everything your mother and Sophie’s father did to keep us alive will be in vain if we don’t go now .”
    Agatha gazed into the wet pools of his eyes and suddenly she understood. Her mother didn’t want her to stay with her. Her mother didn’t want her to come back to Gavaldon. She wanted Agatha to save her best friend . . . to find happiness with her prince . . . to abandon this world for a better one, far far away . . .
    Because her happy ending wasn’t here. It was never here.
    Her mother had died to set her free.
    Do not fail.
    She had to find her real ending.
    She had to run.
    Agatha looked up at the guards bolting towards them, spears gleaming in torchlight. Rage blasted through her blood and scorched through her muscles, nothing holding her back anymore. Lunging to her feet, she hurtled up the slope of Graves Hill.
    â€œCome on! We’ll lose them in the graves!”
    Together, they ripped through the rusted graveyard gatesinto the dark expanse of graves. Even in pitch black, Agatha knew every step, navigating the headstones like