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A Sneak Peek of
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For MariBelle and Oliviana,
who are masters of their own stories
ONCE UPON A TIME…
In a land beyond imagination, there is a boarding school for the sons and daughters of the most famous fairytale characters who ever lived. All the students at the fablelous Ever After High are there to learn how to follow in their parents’ footsteps, ensuring their stories will continue to be told.
The students’ second year at Ever After High is known as their Legacy Year. Legacy Year students attend an important celebration known as Legacy Day, where they pledge to take the same paths as their parents.
They promise to follow their destinies by signing their names in an enchanted tome known as the Storybook of Legends.
The following stories take place just before a Legacy Year like no other begins, as a group of memorable students prepare to face their destinies. …
AS SOON AS THE SUN WAS UP, CEDAR WOOD was up, too. She didn’t need much sleep. Or any, really. Night was a time to rest her imagination, not her wooden body. But this morning, Cedar had been alert for hours before dawn, just lying on her cot, watching the shadows shift on the ceiling, thinking and waiting. It was the last day of summer. Time for a new school year.
As soon as pale yellow light licked her curtains, she rose and crept downstairs. Her own knees creaked more than the stairs did.
In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of willow sap tea and heated up a nice bowl of acorn porridge.Morning sunlight gilded the edges of things, making the cozy cottage look as rich as a royal palace. Blocks of wood were stacked along the walls. The floor was carpeted with wood shavings, the tables busy with half-finished projects, the ceilings dangling puppets, dolls, flutes, wind chimes, and dozens of other carved wooden creations. Cedar took it all in, trying to paint a picture of home in her mind that might last her all year.
“Good morning,” said Cedar’s father, Pinocchio, as he came down the stairs. He kissed the top of Cedar’s head and then busied himself buttering hot cross buns. He had warm brown skin like she did, still retaining the shade of the wood he’d once been carved from. But he was truly alive now. Real hair grew from his head, though his nose no longer did. It was a little bigger than average, retaining some memory of when it had lengthened with every lie.
“I thought we could finish those nesting dolls today,” said Pinocchio. “You are so good at painting the eyes! And then tonight there’s the end-of-summer clambake on the beach—”