A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,179

it!”

The Lady was cowering in the corner, head in her hands.

“It was the king . . . the heir . . . ,” she defended. “Arthur’s blood . . .”

“You felt something when you kissed him!” Tedros cried, charging for her. Agatha held him back. “What was it!”

“Let me out,” the Lady begged.

“Tell me what you felt!” Tedros assailed.

The Lady pounded on the glass. “Let me out!”

She bludgeoned the crystal with both fists—

“Tell me!” Tedros yelled.

The Lady slammed the walls, tapping the last of her powers, her fists bashing Dovey’s crystal harder, harder, until it cracked.

“No!” Agatha shrieked, she and Tedros dashing for the Lady too late as she raised her fists one last time—

Glass exploded.

Tedros and Agatha launched backwards, the lake rushing in and filling their shocked mouths. Choking, they thrust out hands for each other, Tedros hanging on to Agatha’s dress, Agatha gripping his thin white shirt. Then came the storm: thousands of glass shards crashing down on them, plunging them into the deep. Thrashing in vain, they sank under the mass of crystals, screams unheard. The Lady of the Lake watched them, robes floating over her head like a reaper’s, her silver tears clouding the sea.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, her voice resounding. “Forgive me!”

She thrust out her hand—

Dark water swirled around Tedros and Agatha, a chasm ripping open in the lake’s center like the mouth of a snake, before it swallowed them both inside.

DEW COATED TEDROS’ lips, the rich, fresh smell of grass mixing with the scent of Agatha’s hair, his princess spooned in his arms. He opened his eyes to see a lush green heath, sparkling under the sunrise. Agatha stirred, her prince helping her up.

“We’re . . . here,” she breathed.

Tedros still felt like he was underwater, the Lady’s last words reverberating. . . . “Forgive me!”

She had nearly killed them.

Dovey’s crystal was destroyed.

And yet, she’d let them pass.

She’d stayed true to Good.

He thought of the way she’d embraced the Snake . . . the way she inhaled Arthur’s blood in his veins . . . the way her face darkened once their lips touched. . . .

What does she know? he asked himself. What does she know that we don’t?

Across the moors, the old farmhouse where Lancelot and Guinevere once lived lay dormant and overgrown. Sheep, cows, and horses grazed unbounded on the hills.

“It’s like we never left,” Agatha sighed.

For a brief moment, Tedros wished he and Agatha could hide here, like his mother and her true love once had. Past is Present and Present is Past, he thought. . . .

“Tedros?”

He looked at his princess.

She squeezed his hand.

There would be no hiding today.

THE GRAVE LAY in shadow, sheltered by a small oak grove. A shining glass cross rose out of the ground between two trees, marking King Arthur’s tomb. Garlands of white roses draped the cross, along with a glowing five-pointed star resting against the base. There were more of these stars strewn nearby, ashy and burnt out, as if Merlin returned to lay a new one whenever the old had grown cold.

But there was a second grave now, Tedros realized, only a short distance from his father’s, deeper in the shadows. A grave he hadn’t seen before, marked with a second glass cross.

“Chaddick,” said Agatha quietly. “This is where the Lady buried him.”

Tedros nodded. “It’s where he belongs.”

His knight. His friend, valiant and true. He shouldn’t be here at all, Tedros wanted to say. Chaddick was too young, too Good to die. He never should have tried to take on the Snake. He never should have tried to do a king’s work.

Tedros swallowed the knot in his throat.

Work still left to be done.

His eyes roved back to his father’s plot.

“Merlin enchanted the tomb to preserve him,” he said. “Whatever we find, there’ll be hexes and curses to break through. A test I have to pass.” His voice thinned, his palms sweating. “But first, we have to dig him up.”

He raised his fingerglow to his dad’s grave, his heart jittery, his stomach lurching. His finger started to shake, his gold glow unsteady—

Agatha stepped in front of him, her own gold glow lit.

“Look away,” she said.

She began burning through the dirt.

Tedros kept his eyes on the glass cross at the head of the grave, reflecting Agatha’s calm face as she worked. At the base of the cross, Merlin’s glowing white star mirrored Tedros’ fidgeting shadow, his square jaw and sweep of curls. He was thankful for his princess, thankful it was just him and