A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,164

it. The pen told us our mother’s wishes. That the future queen be given her dress. That her son seize his rightful throne. And if we did as she said, there was a way to bring a soul back from the dead. To bring her back from the dead. All the Evils of our past would be erased. The story would have a new ending: me, the One True King . . . Japeth, Mother, and I, reunited at Camelot’s helm . . . Our family restored, as it was meant to be.”

Sophie thought about Lionsmane’s storybook at the Blessing; the one that told Rhian’s fairy tale. It had left out the secrets. The shades that mattered. Like all storybooks.

“What did Japeth say?” Sophie asked.

“Well, he went from mocking them to suddenly believing I was the One True King. He made me promise that if he helped me become that king, I would bring the one he loved back to life. It took time for us to work out our plan, of course . . . but Japeth never flagged. He was as invested as I was, now that he had my mother at stake. I could see the hope in his eyes,” Rhian recalled.

Sophie pictured Evelyn Sader, with her milky skin and bee-stung lips . . . with her manipulative ways and vengeance against men . . . with her nefarious butterflies and revisionist histories worthy of her son’s pen. . . .

But Evelyn Sader had been a mother too.

A mother, like Sophie’s own, who’d made mistakes.

A mother who’d died, wishing for another chance.

Sophie’s skin goose-pimpled under the white lace, caressing her like someone’s touch. She let out a breath of disbelief.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Your mother’s dress,” Sophie said, brushing her hands across the downy corset. “I know it sounds absurd, but all of a sudden, I feel like it . . . likes me.”

She raised her eyes. Rhian was watching her through clear, blue-green pools. A Lion’s deep, assessing gaze.

“I see why every boy falls in love with you,” he said.

“Before, you saw why every boy dumped me,” Sophie replied. “Which is it?”

Rhian leaned over his chair and took her hand. “I thought I knew your fairy tale. But no story can do you justice. It took me time to see deeper. Beneath the beauty and wit and games. I know you now, Sophie. The real you. Petals and thorns. And I love you for them both.”

Sophie couldn’t find air, blood pounding through her. She hadn’t been spoken to with such passion. Not since Rafal.

“You have your brother,” she said weakly, trying to keep her wits. “You have Japeth. You can’t have me too.”

“After what happened with my mother, I was afraid to ever love someone,” he said, sliding off his chair. “I couldn’t let Japeth do to them what he’d done to her. I had to put him first. But I can’t give you up, Sophie. I need you too much. I can be myself with you like I can’t be with anyone else, even my own twin. I love you in a way I can never love him.” He put his lips to her neck. “Because this is love that I choose.”

He slipped his hands around her throat and lifted his mouth to hers. His hands ran over her dress and the lace turned to white butterflies beneath his fingers, rippling and flapping in waves, the sound of their wings beating, the symphony of a kiss.

Then, as their lips tangled and danced . . . a chill swept through the room.

Rhian didn’t notice, his hands sifting through Sophie’s hair.

But Sophie noticed, along with the shadow creeping over the veranda.

She kissed Rhian harder. “What do we do about Japeth?”

“Mmmmm?” Rhian said, in a hot fog.

“I don’t want to end up like your mother,” Sophie breathed. “I want us to be happy. Just the two of us. We could be alone. We could be free.”

“What do you mean?” Rhian asked, between kisses.

Sophie let the words come. “If he was . . . gone.”

Rhian stopped kissing her.

He pulled back, his face hard.

“I told you. He’s my brother. He’s my blood.”

Sophie gripped his shoulders. “You think your mother will be happy to see him when you bring her back? He’ll drive her away, like he did the first time! ‘Past is Present and Present is Past. The story goes round and round again.’ Your words. And you said she wanted to get rid of him . . . that