A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,94

his soul and mine. A crystal ball that showed me people in the Woods who needed help. My help. And I found myself answering the call. For the first time in a long while, I had a life beyond the School for Good and Evil.”

“So it wasn’t Merlin or my father. It was Professor Sader,” Tedros realizes, so entranced he’s finally stopped eating. “He was your fairy godmother.”

“Professor Sader set me on my path,” I answer. “It’s his face that appears when I look in my crystal ball. At least until it broke. Now it’s a glitching mess.”

“Who broke it?” Aja prompts.

“August, believe it or not!” I shake my head. “You’d think a seer could see an accident coming, but he knocked it off my desk, chipping a big piece. Offered to make me a new one, but he died shortly thereafter. Merlin’s repaired it as best he can, but it’s changed. You saw its effects on me . . . my lungs haven’t recovered. . . .”

“Then why were you still using it?” Nicola asks.

I ignore the question. That answer is between Merlin and me.

“Truth is, I didn’t need a crystal ball to be a good fairy godmother,” I say. “Seeing into people’s hearts. That was always my strength. Not magic, which was Lady Lesso’s. I’m sure she could have done wonders with a crystal ball. Indeed, I would have named Leonora my Second if August hadn’t cautioned me against it.”

I notice one of the pirates yawning. Something inside me sparks, as if I know at last why I’m telling this story. As if I know where it’s headed. I stare intently at my frightened pupils.

“But now that I’m older, I realize that August wasn’t my fairy godmother after all. Because fairy godmothers can’t swoop in and change the story. Fairy godmothers only help you to be you. More you. I wasn’t there when Agatha looked in the mirror and realized she was beautiful. I wasn’t there when Cinderella danced with her prince. But each of them knew what to do at the time. Because I taught them the same lesson I’m teaching you now. When the real test comes, no one will be there to save you. No fairy godmother will hand you the answers. No fairy godmother will pull you from the fire. But you have something stronger than a fairy godmother inside of you. A power greater than Good or Evil. A power bigger than life and death. A power that already knows the answers, even when you’ve lost all hope.”

I see my students looking at me now, their eyes unblinking, their breaths held. The pirates are listening too.

“There is no name for this power,” I say. “It is the force that makes the sun rise. The force that makes the Storian write. The force that brings each of us into this world. The force that is bigger than all of us. It will be there to help you when the time is right. It will give you the answers only when you need it and not before. And whenever you lose it or doubt its existence, like I have again and again, all you have to do is look inside yourself and ask . . . What makes my heart beat?” I lean in. “That is who your real fairy godmother is. That is what will help you when you need it most.”

The room is quiet.

I wait for a response. A sign that they understand.

Instead, most furrow and frown as if I’m speaking in tongues. The pirates go back to yawning, bored by an old woman’s ravings.

But someone does understand.

Sitting at the other end of the table.

Tedros, who returns my gaze, his eyes twinkling like Cinderella’s and Agatha’s once did.

A prince awakened.

Nothing spoken after that could have possibly mattered.

WHEN THE TIME comes, none of us put up a fight.

The guards storm in, rip us from our feast and bind our hands with rope. The tattooed pirate in charge of Tedros cuffs a rusted collar around the prince like a dog and drags him by a leash. They shove us out of the dining room, through the hall, and across a catwalk to a staircase that leads down to the courtyard. From the courtyard, it’s only a short walk to the executioner’s stage, sitting atop a hill that slopes to the drawbridge and outer gates. A halo of gold rises behind the castle, the sun minutes from breaking through.

The first years are shivering, their eyes on