Mal gave a dismissive wave. “Everyone’s just glad my mom didn’t turn them all into dragon toast.” She nodded toward the guarded, double-locked doors at the end of the room that led to Maleficent’s new prison. “Not that I blame them.” Joking helped assuage some lingering guilt about her mother’s behavior; not all transfer students had to deal with things like having their parents try to destroy everyone at their new school.

Where was the new student manual for that?

“All thanks to you,” Ben said with a serious look on his face. “We didn’t stand a chance otherwise.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure out how you can all pay me back later,” Mal said airily. She couldn’t help but smile. “Although another rousing vocal performance in front of the entire school where you happen to mention your ridiculous love for me might just do the trick.”

Ben smiled broadly. “Done! There’s a tourney game this weekend for Castlecoming. I’ll practice my dance moves.”

“I can’t wait.” Mal laughed, tucking a strand of her bright purple locks behind her ear.

“Sure you won’t be too embarrassed to be my date at the dance after?” he asked, beginning to hum the catchy melody.

“Yeah, I’ll probably have to hide my face behind one of Mulan’s masks,” she said, then the floor underneath their feet suddenly began to vibrate and the whole room began to shake. Mal grabbed her books before they fell to the floor, and Ben gripped the edge of the table, trying to keep it steady.

“Another earthquake,” Mal said. “That’s the third one this week!” Out of habit, she looked over her shoulder again at the door to Maleficent’s prison. Until recently, Mal had only felt the ground rumble like that when a great big dragon stomped around during the Coronation attack, so Mal couldn’t help but associate earthquakes with her mother.

“Heard it’s happening all over, not just Auradon City,” said Ben with a frown. “But it’s a natural phenomenon, don’t worry. Tectonic plates rumbling underneath the ocean and all that.”

“Well, I wish they’d stay still,” said Mal. “They make me queasy.”

“At least they go away quickly,” said Ben.

Unlike some people, Mal thought, forcing herself not to look back at the prison door.

There were no aftershocks to this one thankfully, and an hour later Mal had already forgotten about it. Ben began to put his books away in his satchel and she glanced at the clock. It wasn’t time for the dinner bell yet. “Leaving already?” she asked. “King duties?”

“Yeah, I have to cut the ribbon at the opening of the new Sidekick Recreation Center. Don’t want them to feel overlooked.” Ben shrugged into his blue blazer with the embroidered royal beast-head crest on its right-hand pocket.

“Don’t you mean kick the ribbon?” Mal teased, but Ben didn’t laugh back. She knew he took his royal responsibilities very seriously, and he meant to be a king for all of Auradon—sidekicks and villainy offspring included.

“Text you later?” Ben tugged at a lock of her hair.

“Not if I text you first,” she promised.

Mal did a little more work, but stopped when she heard her phone buzz in her backpack. Thinking it was Ben, she picked it up, but it was a text from an unknown number instead. Strange. She clicked it open and read the message.

Go back where you belong.

Excuse me? she sent. What’s this all about? She looked around suspiciously, but the library was full of Auradon students diligently working on their Virtues and Values term papers on computer terminals or else absorbed in their Kindness and Decency reading. This week’s assignment was Snow White’s How to Keep a Happy Home for a Family of Seven (Dwarfs Optional).

Mal looked back down at her phone, waiting to see what would happen next, a pit growing in her stomach. There was no reply for a long time, then the little wand at the bottom of her screen began to show sparks, which indicated that the recipient was typing a reply. Finally it appeared on her screen:

You must return to the Isle of the Lost at once! Before the new moon rises!

Who is this? she texted back, more irritated than scared.

You know who I am.

I’m M…

There was no more. Just “M.” Who was M? Mal stared at the screen. Who demanded that she return to the Isle of the Lost? And why did she have to return before the new moon rose? And when would that be, anyway?

Mal could think of a few M’s in her life, but there was only one M that mattered the most. The big one. Maleficent. Could her mother be communicating to her through text? She might be sitting in her lizard-size prison right now, but she was still the greatest evil fairy who had ever lived. Anything was possible, she supposed.

Of course Maleficent would want Mal to go home. Her mother had only planned to escape the Isle of the Lost because its invisible barrier kept her from her magic. She despised Auradon and its pretty forests and enchanted rivers. If Maleficent had succeeded in her vengeful plot, the entire kingdom would be as gloomy, dark, and wretched as the Forbidden Fortress by now. In other words, darker than anything her friends at Auradon Prep could imagine….

That was not something she could ever let happen.

Mal read the mysterious text again, apprehension making her heart beat faster. She collected her things, determined to find her friends so they could help her figure out what was going on.

Mal had a feeling that her sweet life in Auradon was about to turn rotten.

Jay was used to dodging angry shopkeepers and furious bazaar merchants as they watched their precious wares disappear into the hands of the fast-moving thief in the red beanie and purple-and-yellow vest, so playing tourney was much easier than that. At least he didn’t have to dodge rotten tomatoes and threats of dismemberment as he zigzagged his way to the goal, trying to keep away from the red-and-white-striped painted “kill zone” in the middle of the field. It was a perfect afternoon for practice, the sky a cloudless blue, the trees bordering the field lush and green. The stands were empty save for a few students hanging out with friends or doing homework, and the cheerleaders in their yellow T-shirts and blue skirts were having their own practice by the sidelines.

When the ground beneath him began to shake, Jay ignored it and ran left, caught the puck in his stick, and ducked past the loaded cannons, tumbling as he whipped the puck right into the net. He raised his arms in victory, skidding to a stop on his knees just as the rumbling vibrations ceased. A slow, satisfied smile grew on his face. His long dark hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, and sweat drenched his uniform. Earthquakes didn’t scare him; nothing could stop him from running as fast as he could toward a goal.