the real Tedros in horror before she spins to me, the Tedros who tricked her, left behind on the battlefield—
The ground shudders, followed by the echo of hooves.
A dark horse streaks across the hill like a specter.
Its rider is blacked out by the sun as he crushes through the Tedroses assailing the king, shattering their bones and spraying them aside, before he swings off his saddle and sweeps the broken Tedros into his hands.
Crouched over the king, the shadow touches Rhian, as if he knows who he is beneath Tedros’ face. His fingers run along Rhian’s bruised, bloodied chest, feeling it rise and fall, alive with breath.
Gently, he lays the king down.
Then his cool blue eyes find me like sapphires in a cave.
He moves quickly, a black fog, like Death itself.
As he stands over me, his face comes into focus.
Japeth bares his teeth, his cheeks flecked with Rhian’s blood, his fists gnarled with murder.
He pulls Excalibur out of the grass, my princely face reflected in its steel.
Behind him, I see my two Tedroses sprinting to save me—
I give them a smile.
A smile that tells them I’m at peace.
This is what I’ve chosen.
This is what I want.
They run faster, harder towards me. But it’s too late.
“Little boy who thinks he’s a man. Little boy who thinks he’s a king,” Japeth seethes at me. “You tried to kill the one I love and now look at you. On your knees, bowing down to my brother. Bowing down to the real king.”
I turn my smile on Japeth.
“No Snake will ever be king,” I vow.
He puts his face to mine. “Long live Tedros.”
With a roar, the Snake swings the sword for my neck.
I look boldly into his eyes, reverting to my true form.
His eyes flare in shock as the blade hits—
I shatter to a million crystals, spraying into the air, each filling up with a youth I’ve never known before they disperse, like seeds that will grow in a new time.
What’s left of me rises like a mist, filling in stronger, deeper than ever before, higher, higher, the colors growing more vibrant around me like an aurora, until I’m awash in a swirl of celestial glow. . . .
And then, as I look up, I see someone waiting.
Someone who’s waited patiently for me all this time.
Just a little bit higher.
There is no fear of flying. No temptation to turn back.
I lift into the light, my soul laid bare, as Leonora Lesso bends down and wraps me in her arms like the wings of a swan.
17
AGATHA
The Only Safe Place in the Woods
Two Tedroses jumped over the gatehouse wall, throttling for the Woods beyond the castle.
“Hurry!” the real Tedros panted, dragging his clone past the gatehouse, emptied of guards, who were still on the battlefield.
Tears streamed down Agatha’s cheeks as she hugged the Dean’s bag to her muscled flank, her thick thighs and broad shoulders hampering her run. Blood and welts streaked their bare chests, though her prince looked far worse. A strange déjà vu seeped into Agatha’s grief, as if she’d lived this scene before—
All at once, the spell broke and she melted back into her own body, her tattered dress reappearing with a borrowed swan crest, her shoulders smaller, her legs more nimble.
But the crush of emotions was still the same.
“Dovey . . . ,” she choked. “Tedros . . . she’s . . . she’s . . .”
“I know,” he said, his voice rigid. He pulled her into the Woods, past the first line of trees, raining waves of red and yellow leaves. She could hear his heavy grunts, every part of his body wrecked. The only solace was that they’d left Rhian in far worse shape. Brambles hooked onto her dress and Tedros’ breeches, their shoes slipping on heaps of dead autumn fronds.
Alarm bells pealed from Camelot’s belfry, followed by a stampede of hooves.
“Run faster!” Tedros barked, his cheeks blotched red.
Agatha knew his anger wasn’t for her. His anger was pain. His anger was guilt. The Snake had killed his best friend, his knight, and now his Dean, and Tedros had been powerless to stop him. He’d tried to save Dovey. Agatha had too. But Dovey hadn’t intended to be saved.
Even so, they hadn’t gotten away scot-free.
Japeth had seen the two Tedroses lunge for the Dean as she fell.
He’d known it was Agatha and her prince from the way they’d tried to save her . . . from the horror on their faces. . . .
Now the Snake and his men were