A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,172

. . . Her soul was trying to tell her something. But what? They’d been on the road more than a day since Lionsmane’s message had branded in the sky and there’d been no change to it. No sign that it was anything other than the truth. Which meant there was less than a day left until Rhian and Sophie were married. Until Rhian had the Storian’s powers. Until Agatha, Tedros, and all their friends were dead. And their only hope was in a king’s coffin that they were riding farther and farther away from.

“That’s where my dad’s buried. Vulture Vale,” Agatha heard Hort whisper to Nicola. “Not Necro Ridge or anything, but decent enough. School Master got my dad a proper burial. Only nice thing that bastard ever did.”

“Must have wanted something from you in return,” said his girlfriend.

“Not even. Said he understood the bond between father and son. That one day he’d have a son with his true love,” Hort replied. “Gave me the creeps. His true love was Sophie.”

Agatha shuddered.

“Wait. Look there,” said Tedros, pointing ahead. “On Necro Ridge.”

Atop a hill with the most lavish villain memorials—menacing statues, obsidian obelisks, thorn-wrapped tombs—rose a polished slab of stone, freshly laid and bigger than any other, lit by torches on both sides. Agatha could read it clearly.

HERE LIES THE SNAKE

Terror of the Woods

Slain by the Lion of Camelot

As Witnessed by the People

Agatha thought of the newspapers Devan and Laralisa had shown her when she’d first returned to school. The Camelot Courier had questioned the Snake’s death, claiming the Cryptkeeper had never buried him, only to have other kingdoms’ papers confirm the Snake’s burial in Necro Ridge. No doubt Rhian took matters into his own hands after the Cryptkeeper spoke to the Courier and had this showy grave made to avert further queries. A grave Agatha knew must be empty. As for the Cryptkeeper . . . it was telling that he was nowhere to be seen.

They were nearing the outskirts of the cemetery now. In hours, they’d be back at Camelot.

“We have to do something,” Agatha said to Tedros. “Fast.”

“Magic won’t work. Can’t break the cage. No one’s coming to save us,” the prince gritted, shielding his mother from the rough ride. He pointed at the bag under Agatha’s arm. “What about Dovey’s crystal?”

“You want me to throw it at the beaver’s head?” asked Agatha sarcastically. “It’s not a weapon!”

“Then why did you bring it?”

“Dovey told me not to let it out of my sight!”

“Well, she wouldn’t know, would she?” Tedros said, frustrated. “I refuse to die on a camel—”

A fireball streaked over Tedros’ head, singeing his hair. They spun to see the camel spit a new flamebomb at Agatha, who ducked just in time.

“No more talking,” Ajubaju warned.

The beaver turned back around.

“Not an ordinary camel,” Guinevere whispered to the others, undaunted. “Spitfire camel. Invincible killers, like gargoyles. Sultan of Shazabah has an army of them. Arthur was wary; thought those camels gave Shazabah too much power. King must really trust Rhian to be giving him one as a gift. . . .”

Agatha’s mind snagged on one of the old queen’s words.

Gargoyles.

“Invincible killers.”

Only Agatha had beaten a gargoyle once. Her first year at school. . . . She’d used her special talent to stop it from eating her. A talent she wasn’t sure she still had.

Somewhere in the cave of her heart, an old spark kindled.

Agatha hoisted herself onto her knees, clutching Dovey’s bag tighter. For her talent to work, she needed to look in the camel’s eyes, but from her cage, all she could see was Ajubaju’s big buttocks obscuring the creature’s head.

She closed her eyes.

Can you hear me?

No answer.

Maybe talents dried up like unnourished fruit.

Maybe talents had a life and death of their own.

Agatha focused harder.

Tell me if you can hear me.

Give me a sign.

A breeze cooled her face.

She opened her eyes to see the camel raise its tail and poo, just missing her.

Agatha smiled.

So you can hear me.

I’m your friend here, not the beaver.

I know what you’ve left behind.

The camel’s steps stuttered, sending the prisoners toppling against their bars. Ajubaju lashed the camel harder and the animal moaned. Agatha struggled back onto her knees.

I can help you.

This time, the camel subtly peeked back.

You’re in a cage, came its voice. A female’s. You’re in no position to help anyone.

Agatha met its eyes. In the camel’s dark pools, she saw Present and Past. Agatha’s heart throbbed harder, as if pumping for two.

I hear wishes. That is my gift,