THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL
SOMAN CHAINANI
THE SCHOOL YEARS
COMPLETE COLLECTION
THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL
A WORLD WITHOUT PRINCES
THE LAST EVER AFTER
Copyright
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The School Years Complete Collection
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2015
The School for Good and Evil books 1-3
Cover designs © HarperCollins Publishers 2013, 2014, 2015
The School for Good and Evil books 1-3
Cover illustrations © Iacopo Bruno 2013, 2014, 2015
The School Years Complete Collection
Text © 2015 by Soman Chainani
Illustrations © 2015 by Iacopo Bruno
The School for Good and Evil books 1-3
Text © 2013, 2014, 2015 by Soman Chainani
Illustrations © 2013, 2014, 2015 by Iacopo Bruno
The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.
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Source ISBNs:
The School for Good and Evil: 9780007492947 A World Without Princes: 9780007502820 The Last Ever After: 9780007502851
Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2015 ISBN: 9780008164553
Version: 2018-06-28
IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL
A SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL
TWO TOWERS LIKE TWIN HEADS
ONE FOR THE PURE
ONE FOR THE WICKED
TRY TO ESCAPE YOUâLL ALWAYS FAIL
THE ONLY WAY OUT IS
THROUGH A FAIRY TALE
ophie had waited all her life to be kidnapped.
But tonight, all the other children of Gavaldon writhed in their beds. If the School Master took them, theyâd never return. Never lead a full life. Never see their family again. Tonight these children dreamt of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast, come to rip them from their sheets and stifle their screams.
Sophie dreamt of princes instead.
She had arrived at a castle ball thrown in her honor, only to find the hall filled with a hundred suitors and no other girls in sight. Here for the first time were boys who deserved her, she thought as she walked the line. Hair shiny and thick, muscles taut through shirts, skin smooth and tan, beautiful and attentive like princes should be. But just as she came to one who seemed better than the rest, with brilliant blue eyes and ghostly white hair, the one who felt like Happily Ever After ⦠a hammer broke through the walls of the room and smashed the princes to shards.
Sophieâs eyes opened to morning. The hammer was real. The princes were not.
âFather, if I donât sleep nine hours, my eyes look swollen.â
âEveryoneâs prattling on that youâre to be taken this year,â her father said, nailing a misshapen bar over her bedroom window, now completely obscured by locks, spikes, and screws. âThey tell me to shear your hair, muddy up your face, as if I believe all this fairy-tale hogwash. But no oneâs getting in here tonight. Thatâs for sure.â He pounded a deafening crack as exclamation.
Sophie rubbed her ears and frowned at her once lovely window, now something youâd see in a witchâs den. âLocks. Why didnât anyone think of that before?â
âI donât know why they all think itâs you,â he said, silver hair slicked with sweat. âIf itâs goodness that School Master fellow wants, heâll take Gunildaâs daughter.â