“You better go get changed for dinner,” said Tedros, buttoning his shirt. “They won’t let you in looking like you’re going to the gym. Or Sophie won’t, at least. . . .”
The knight rocked back on his heels. “Trust me. I’ll be taming that girl long before she tames me. Should we walk back?”
“Think I’ll stay out here a bit longer,” said the king.
“See you later, then.”
“See you later.”
The two boys parted. Tedros watched Rhian go.
He stood at Lancelot’s grave for a long moment, fairies detonating around him, before he turned to leave— “Hey,” he said, surprised.
Agatha treaded uphill towards him. “Was worrying where you were. I’m starving.”
“I was about to head back,” said Tedros.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You were gone awhile.”
“Lost track of time. You know, just thinking a bit . . .”
“By yourself?”
Tedros batted at a fairy hovering around his ear. “I need a shower. If you wait for me, we can grab a quick dinner at the Arrow,” he said, jogging past Agatha— “Tedros?”
He stopped and turned.
“Can we go somewhere else for dinner?” Agatha asked. “Somewhere, you know . . . nice.”
Tedros stared at her. “Nice?”
Less than an hour later, Agatha and Tedros arrived at a boxy cottage deep in the Forest, with dark-green brick walls and a terra-cotta rooftop. Dressed in a tight red dress that wasn’t her own and standing next to Tedros, who wore a borrowed blue tuxedo with a gold bowtie, Agatha blinked skeptically at the dumpy-looking house.
“I put on a dress . . . for this?” she said.
Tedros knocked on the door.
A slit opened and two dark eyes glared through. “Reservation time?” said an oily voice.
Tedros steeled himself. “We don’t have reservations.”
The slit slammed shut and high-pitched cackles echoed behind it.
Tedros knocked again.
The slit reopened. “Reservation ti— Oh. You. Surely you know that Beauty and the Feast is both the most sought-after meal in the Endless Woods as well as the recipient of ‘Best Restaurant’ from the Everwood Gastronomical Society for the last 265 years straight. Even with the Snake crippling the Woods, we haven’t lost a single reservation. Reservations that must be made months, if not years, in advance, though we made an exception tonight for Sophie of Woods Beyond, a diva, icon, goddess, and personal hero of mine, and her date, a gorgeous new knight of Camelot—all of which is to say, we do not have room for stragglers off the street. So please take you and your poorly tailored clothing and vacate the premises before I call the dogs.”
The slit slid closed.
Agatha knocked.
The eyes reappeared, about to combust—
“I’m Sophie’s best friend,” said Agatha.
“I’m the King of Camelot,” said Tedros.
“And I’m the Queen of Bazoo,” the slimy voice said.
“No. Really,” said Tedros, staring hard at him.
The eyes looked at him. Then at Agatha.
“Mamasita!” the voice gasped.
The door flew open and a man appeared, his skin caked in bronzer, his thick, black toupee crowned with gold feathers, and his tall, lithe body wrapped in what appeared to be a fur kimono.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” he said, seizing Agatha by one arm and Tedros by the other and dragging both through the door into the restaurant, whirling with color and motion. “I’m Masha Mahaprada, Master of Dining and Chief Visionary Officer of Beauty and the Feast! Tonight’s theme is ‘Through the Looking Glass: Our Bodies, Our Food, Ourselves. . . .’”
Agatha scanned the place, wide-eyed. Tablecloths made of peacock feathers lay across gold-legged tables, heaped with chicken liver fondue, samphire tempura, pheasant wing confit, crab escabeche, vegetable towers, and chocolate waterfalls. . . . Evers and Nevers dined in proximity, clad in the most lavish outfits—luminescent dresses, swan-feather hats, sequined saris, crog-skin suits, stymph-bone jewelry (even the trolls were dressed up)—with any enmity between Good and Evil transcended by the shared experience of an extraordinary meal. Red foxes in crisp black tuxedos took orders, magic carpets brought and cleared plates, and hummingbirds swooped in and swept away breadcrumbs. Mini-chandeliers over tables dripped magical gold at the start of each course while fireworks exploded upon the completion of desserts, and a neon cricket symphony surfed the restaurant on discs of white-chocolate ganache, playing a love serenade.
“Now a few simple rules of dining,” Masha confided, clutching Agatha and Tedros tightly.
A chorus of lovebirds, each a different color of the rainbow, landed on Agatha’s and Tedros’ shoulders and sang a jingly song— Beauty and the Feast
Beauty and the Feeeeast
Where boys bring girls to give them rings
And a kiss or two at leeeeast
Girls, wear your best dresses
Let the boys take all your stresses
They’ll order for you and make all of you
Feel like the very best princesses
Girls, don’t talk too loudly
Boys, don’t talk too brashly
And both of you—this includes me too —
No politics, they’re ghastly
So enjoy your meal
Please try the veal
Don’t slurp or burp or splash or gnash
And most important of allllllll . . .
ALWAYS PAY IN CASH!
Tedros and Agatha looked at each other.
“It’s very . . . sexist,” said Agatha.
“It’s very . . . expensive,” said Tedros.
“Sherwood Forest, darling. Chi chi chi chi chi!” said Masha, pulling them ahead.
Agatha held her breath, soaking in the spectacle. At one table, a boy and girl kissed over a smoking chocolate volcano, shrouding them in red mist, before it erupted with strawberry mousse. At another, two giants shared an appropriate-sized mountain of rabbit and fennel linguini, while at a side table, two old fairy godmothers waved their wands to extinguish a crepe that had been over-flambéed.
“Agatha!” said a girl’s voice.
Agatha turned to see Dot rushing towards her in a sparkly, flower-print dress. “We just finished eating and are headed to the Arrow! Oh, Tedros, you look so handsome and you know I never say that, because I don’t want to blow up your ego since it’s already past capacity. Eek, there goes my date,” she said, pointing to a tall boy in a brown cap ahead of her, already opening the front door. “Meet us at the Arrow later!”
Dot hurried off as Masha propelled Tedros and Agatha forward. “Come, my loves, I’ll show you your table. . . .”
Agatha noticed Tedros squint back at the front door, frowning.
“What is it?” she said.
“That boy she was with,” said Tedros.
“Is your place as the Fairest One of All threatened?”
“Pssh, no . . . I mean, that’s not what I meant. . . .”
But now they had to part ways to let two waiters hurry through, toting a pepper-roasted goat on a spit— “I’ll put you at the second-best table, right next to Sophie and her knight, so you can all be together,” said Masha, taking hold of them again. “I was saving it for myself in the hopes that I could join Sophie for dessert, but you, of course, have priority. . . .”