A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,154

power to write anything he wants and make it come true. In two days—”

“We all die,” said Agatha.

Everyone fell quiet.

“And all I have is a message from my father that I’m too afraid to obey,” said a voice.

Tedros’.

“Agatha’s right,” the prince said, looking up at the group. “Rhian is my father’s son. He is my father’s heir, I accept that. But then why is my father reaching out to me from his grave? Why did the Lady of the Lake give me that message? There has to be a reason. There has to be something we don’t know yet. When I was king, I let others take the lead too often. But either I lead now or our story is at an end. We’re beaten from all sides and this isn’t the time to hold back. Not against an enemy that will kill us all and erase everything we stand for. We have to go to Avalon and unbury my father. We have to dig up the Past if we’re going to save the Present. We have to step into the belly of the Lion. There is no other choice. It doesn’t matter if people in the Woods want to kill us or if the Lady isn’t on our side or if the coffin is hexed with a thousand locks. It’s what Merlin would have wanted us to do. It’s what Dovey and Lesso would have wanted us to do. It’s what my father would have wanted us to do. They’re our guides now, even if they’re not here. They’ve left behind a path.” Tears hovered in Tedros’ eyes, his jaw clenched. “And like my princess, I must have the courage to follow it.”

He gazed hard at Agatha. “Now . . . who’s coming with us?”

Agatha held his stare, prince and princess united.

“Guess I should put on my grave-robbin’ boots,” she heard Hort murmur.

24

SOPHIE

The Garden of Truth and Lies

Sophie watched the towers of the castle loom closer as her carriage trundled through Camelot’s village, the streets dappled with red and gold light. Kei posed like a statue in the seat next to her, spine stiff, jaw tight, eyes cold and fixed ahead.

In Maker’s Market, wind blew dust off cobblestones onto bakers opening their shops, butchers unloading carcasses, and young children sleepily herding towards Camelot’s school. Every shop seemed to have a gold Lion painted in its window, while schoolchildren flashed Lion pins on their lapels to two pirates in Camelot armor checking for evidence of loyalty to the king. Amidst the market stalls, a dark gap caught Sophie’s eye: a shop burnt to the ground and a notice nailed to a stake in the ashes.

CONDEMNED

FOR SUSPECTED SYMPATHY TO REBELS

There was no mention what became of the shopkeeper.

The carriage rolled past a newsstand, an old humpbacked man laying out the new edition of the Royal Rot, the stand’s marquee once labeled CAMELOT COURIER now poorly etched over with a Lion crest. Sophie scanned the morning’s headlines.

TEDROS STILL ON THE LOOSE!

King Raises Bounty for Rebels’ Heads!

PRINCESS SOPHIE MISSING!

Kidnapped by Tedros? Or in League with Rebels?

MORE ATTACKS IN THE WOODS!

Rebels Sack Bloodbrook and Ladelflop!

The Snake had said only three rings were left. And Nottingham’s was one of them. . . .

So Bloodbrook and Ladelflop must be the other two.

Had these new attacks convinced their rulers they needed Camelot’s protection, like the others who’d destroyed their rings? Had these attacks bullied the two holdouts into siding with Man against the Pen?

Sophie’s throat went dry.

Is the Sheriff’s ring the last one left?

Sophie pictured Japeth striding into the forest, his scims laminating his body as he flipped the carved ring on his thumb like a coin.

He’d bring it back to his brother, Rhian’s faith in him affirmed. Bertie, the Sheriff’s old jail attendant, would burn it on the king’s command. Man would become Pen, just like August Sader warned.

Nothing could stop Rhian now.

Nothing could stop him from infinite power.

Except her.

Doves in formation circled Camelot’s castle, standing tall against cloudless blue, the stains and nicks that tarnished the towers under Tedros’ reign since smoothed away. Sophie thought of the fairy-tale castles she’d read about in storybooks back in Gavaldon . . . castles that made her dream of Ever After . . . castles that looked just like this one. She sighed mordantly. Mooning over those storybook castles, she’d never bothered to ask herself what was happening inside.

High in the Gold Tower, the windows to the king’s bedroom stretched wide open.

Rhian must be up and moving.

Nerves punctured