Page 122 of Wickedly Ever After
“You too?” Agatha glared at him.
“I—” He looked at Ida. “Yes. Yes, I do think it’s time for it to end. We’ve been in charge long enough. It’s time we stepped aside and let the world handle itself with our help, but not our control.”
“Next you’ll be saying you set this up on purpose to fail this year,” Agatha said.
“As a matter of fact—”
“He didn’t,” Ida said. “I did.”
“What?” Tara gasped.
“I destroyed Happily-Ever-After. It happened at the very beginning when I didn’t choose the princess this year. I asked the magic to do it, without oversight, without thinking about the consequences of what I did, and worse, I didn’t tell anyone what I’d done. I didn’t trust anyone but myself.” She gazed at him, and a warmth filled Hector, and a peace that he didn’t think was possible. “But I’m glad it happened this way. If it hadn’t, I’d have never known just how wicked I really was. Or how good other people could be.”
He reached across the table and set his hand over hers. “You were supposed to let me take the blame,” he said. “We agreed.”
“Yes, well—I knew you’d come to see it my way in the end,” she said. “Besides, you know I could never let you win.”
Ida turned to the others. “It’s time to abolish Happily-Ever-After forever.”
56
Ida
My dearest, most horrible Hector,
I couldn’t let you do it. I couldn’t let you stand alone. Maybe someday you’ll forgive me for my complete distrust in your ability to make a proper Happily-Ever-After, but after all, you are the Wicked Witch of the West. I know my duty, and it’s thwarting you at every turn. Besides, I couldn’t stand being head of the Council without you there. As soon as it’s over, I’ll go home and tear the red rose up by the roots. Nobody will be able to fix this awful spell once I’m done with it. I simply can’t take the risk that if I allow that plant to flourish, some other fools will come along and repeat our mistake. I know they’ll come after me for it, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself.
I wish I had the words to tell you how much your friendship means to me. It’s the hardest thing in the world, stepping down when all I want is to spend every day working with you, but I think we both know that if anyone is qualified to lead us into a new era without Happily-Ever-After, it’s you and not me.
I’ll always have the greatest respect for how much you sacrificed for Happily-Ever-After. Perhaps one day, you’ll understand why I had to do the same.
Yours forever,
Ida
Hector stood so stiffly, as if his back hurt. It probably did. Her back wasn’t feeling wonderful after lying on the hard ground in the forest all night either. She hadn’t been able to sleep, and from the way Hector shifted around in his blankets, she didn’t think he’d slept either. Probably worried about what she would do.
He hadn’t wanted it to end this way. She could see it in the way his jaw clenched, as if he anticipated the pain she was about to endure as his own. She didn’t suppose it hurt any less if one sacrificed one’s own immortality.
“I agree with Ida,” he said, “although despite what she says, she didn’t destroy Happily-Ever-After. There’s no provision that says she shouldn’t have chosen the princess the way she did. But had she not let the magic choose, we’d have never known that the magic was flawed from the beginning. And it was. I know that now.” He drew himself up. “That’s why I’m resigning. I’m leaving the Council in her capable hands. The world will need a witch of her ability to navigate the consequences, and I can think of no one better for the job.”
“You go too far, Hector,” Agatha said, clenching her hand around the handle of her wand. “You’re talking about abolishing the one thing that has kept us in charge for the last thousand years. You’re really ready to turn the world over to…who, exactly, Hector? The prince and his husband? The common people? You’re asking us to return to anarchy!”
“Who said anything about anarchy? I think we need to remain advisors to the crown and the people, to guide, not to control. I see that as our role in this world—as it should have been from the beginning.”
“And you think they’ll listen?” Agatha laughed. “You really aren’t with the times, are you, Hector?”
“Maybe they won’t at first,” Ida said. “But who are we to say they won’t listen eventually?”
“The ones in charge,” Agatha snapped back. “That’s who. I’m not about to give that up because you two have gone senile.” She raised her wand.
Hector started. “Agatha, what are you doing?”
“Firing you to start with!”
A freezing, burning sensation filled Ida from her limbs to her chest where Hector’s heart pounded. Her wand was back on Scary Mary, in the saddlebag, and Hector’s staff was back with Napoleon—he’d wanted to retain it after his resignation, and he’d been concerned that Agatha might demand he break it. He’d said he was rather attached to it, having received it as a gift from a dryad queen for his five hundredth birthday.
“You don’t have the authority to fire him,” Ida said. “I’m the only one who does. I have seniority here, not you!” Losingherimmortality was one thing, but Hector had already lost his. If Agatha tried to fire him…
