A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,123

have yours and mine. And the difference between Sophie’s memories and ours is that she wishes she’d done the right thing all those times she didn’t. She wishes she’d been Good again and again and again. That’s why she’s my friend. Because I know what’s in her heart, beneath all her mistakes. And this future here? To return to a boy she doesn’t love and destroy everything she’s been fighting for? To throw away the friendships she’s given her life to build? It’s the darkest kind of Evil. And that kind of Evil . . . That’s not Sophie.”

She squeezed Sophie’s clammy hand. Sophie smeared away tears.

Tedros tensed, veins straining against skin. “Agatha, if you’re wrong . . . imagine if you’re wrong . . .”

“She’s not wrong,” Sophie rasped. “I swear on my own life. She’s not wrong.”

But Agatha wasn’t looking at them anymore.

Her eyes were on a single crystal, suspended in midair at the bottom corner of the phantom, where Reaper had batted down all the others.

It caught her eye because this crystal was different.

It wasn’t a scene of her, Sophie, or Tedros.

It wasn’t a scene of her cat.

It was a scene of someone else.

Someone whose soul the ball shouldn’t have recognized at all.

“Huh?” said Tedros, examining it over his shoulder. “Definitely a mistake—”

“I’m going inside,” Agatha declared, touching the crystal.

“No! Dovey’s ball will go dark any second!” Reaper warned. “You’re the only one who can reopen it, Agatha! If you’re inside a crystal when the ball loses connection, you’ll be trapped inside the scene forever!”

But Agatha was gazing firmly into her crystal’s center.

“No, you don’t!” Sophie hissed, seizing her hand. “You’re staying right here—”

Blue light clobbered both of them and again Agatha’s chest suffered the blow, her lungs crumpling like parchment, before solid ground appeared under her feet. Blinded by light, she couldn’t see, her mind a globby puddle, too weak to revive. As the blue glow dulled, she peeled her eyelids open and found Sophie by her side, just as battered and gripping onto her. Pallid and shaking, Sophie glared at Agatha, about to chastise her for putting them both at risk—

Sophie stopped cold.

They were in a room Agatha knew: the walls covered in gold and crimson silkprint, matching the rug on the dark wood floor; the chairs refinished with Lion crests woven into the gold cushions; a bed curtained in red and gold.

I’ve been here, she thought, still disoriented.

Her mind locked in.

Of course.

Camelot.

The king’s bedroom.

Agatha and Sophie craned their heads out from behind a standing lamp—

Rhian lay on the bed, his body cased in plaster, his face mummified by bloody towels so only his blackened eyes and gashed lips were visible.

His brother was feeding him broth, his gold-and-blue suit soaked in Rhian’s blood.

“I should have stayed behind,” said Japeth softly. “I never should have left you here alone with that . . . she-wolf.”

Rhian’s voice came out gritty and weak. “No. She fought for me. She was on our side. They must have taken her hostage. Agatha and the rebels—”

“You fool. You don’t think she was in on it?” the Snake blistered. “She conspired with the rebels before the execution. To pretend to be on your side. To act your loyal princess. She played you like the sweetest harp.”

Blood oozed out of Rhian’s lips. “If that’s true, then why did the pen choose her? Why did the pen choose her to be my queen?”

Japeth didn’t answer.

“She’s meant to be with me, brother,” Rhian rasped. “She’s meant to help us get what we want. What you want. To bring the one we love back from the dead.”

Agatha’s heart stopped.

Sophie’s hand clamped hers like a vise.

The one we love?

Back from the dead?

Between the gap in the bed-curtains, the two boys were still, Rhian’s pained breaths the only sound in the room.

Japeth touched his brother’s lips. “There’s only one way to find out the truth. I’ll ride to find Sophie. If the pen is right, then she’ll be trying to find her way back to you. She’ll be on her own. But if she’s with Agatha and Tedros, the three of them thick as thieves, then the pen was wrong. And I’ll bring her heart back in a box.” His jaw sharpened. “I’ll bring you all three of their hearts.”

Rhian struggled for air. “And . . . and . . . if you don’t find her?”

“Oh, I’ll find her.” His brother morphed into his shiny black suit of eels. “Because my scims will search every crevice and cave