Isle of the Lost (Descendants 1)

Mal nodded again. “I know. Because of that stupid election about who would lead this island, right?”

Evie shrugged. “You know what they say. Magic Mirror on the wall, who’s the biggest ego of them all?”

Mal smiled in spite of the entirely awkward nature of the conversation.

Evie looked her straight in the eye. “Look, my mom messed up. But the party was

n’t that great, really. You didn’t miss much.”

“It wasn’t a howler?”

“Not anything like Carlos’s at all.” Evie smiled.

“That’s right. I’m legendary,” Carlos said.

Mal glared at him. “As if I didn’t have to almost beat you into having that party?”

She looked back at Evie. “Look, I didn’t mean to trap you in Cruella’s horrible closet.” Mal glanced at Carlos, adding, “The one she loves more than her own son.”

“Ha-ha,” Carlos said, not laughing at all. Well, sort of not laughing. Actually, he was kind of laughing. Even Jay was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

Evie giggled as well. “Yes, you did.”

“Okay, I did.” Mal smiled.

“It’s all right.” Evie smiled back. “I didn’t get caught in any of the traps.”

“Cool,” said Mal, even as she was embarrassed by her softness.

Carlos sighed.

Jay punched him in the gut with a grin. “Come on. At least your mom doesn’t only wear sweat suits and pajamas.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” said Evie and Mal, almost in unison.

“Yeah. Enough with the violins. We got a long walk home,” Jay said. “And I’m not all that sure that this place has a back door.”

Mal had a hard time keeping her mind on finding the way out of the fortress, though.

She was soft, and she was worried.

She had just saved someone’s life, practically. Hadn’t she?

What kind of self-respecting second-generation villain did anything of the sort?

What had happened to her grand evil scheme?

Why hadn’t she just let Evie be cursed by Maleficent’s scepter? Weren’t princesses meant to sleep for years and years anyway? Didn’t that basically come with the job description?

What if my mom is right?

What if Mal really was weak like her father—and worse, had a propensity for good somewhere in her black little heart?

Mal shuddered as she walked along behind the others.

No. If anything, being immune to the curse just proved she was definitely not her father’s daughter. One day she too would be Maleficent.

She had to be.