used to tell me Agatha and Tedros’ fairy tale every night before bed,” the young girl was badgering her mother, “and they ended as king and queen, remember? That was their Ever After—”
“Well, turns out Agatha and Tedros were only pretending to be king and queen, while the real king was out here in the Woods,” her mother assured. “King Rhian killed the Snake, while Tedros did nothing. King Rhian is the leader of Good now. And Sophie will be his queen.”
“He’s the leader of Evil too,” rasped a black-cloaked hag near them, who was also waiting to buy one of the gold pens. “That’s why he’s marrying Sophie. To bring us all together. Rhian is king of the whole Woods now. And Lionsmane will make sure you never hear a fake fairy tale like Agatha’s again. King Rhian’s pen is going to tell real stories.” She grinned toothlessly at the little girl. “Might even write yours.”
Rhian’s pen? Agatha thought, bewildered.
The young girl blinked between her mother and the hag.
“But why does King Rhian have to kill Tedros?” she asked. “And why does he have to kill him at his wedding to Sophie?”
Agatha’s stomach wrenched so hard she felt it in her throat.
Tedros killed at Rhian and Sophie’s—
Impossible. They couldn’t kill King Arthur’s son at a royal wedding. It could never happen. Sophie would never let it happen. Sophie would protect Tedros . . . She’d plot against Rhian from inside the castle . . . She’d never marry that monster!
Agatha tensed. Or now that Sophie was about to be Queen of Camelot, worshipped by the entire Woods, would she suddenly turn back into—
Don’t be stupid, Agatha scoffed. She’d seen Sophie’s face when Rhian had trapped her at swordpoint. This wasn’t the old Sophie, who’d betrayed her best friends for love. This time, they were all on the same team against a fake king.
A fake king who was planning to kill the real one.
Agatha expected to feel a rush of panic—
But instead a sense of calm came over her.
If she didn’t find a way to get to Tedros, he would die in the worst possible way.
There was no time for helplessness.
Her prince needed her.
She slipped out from behind the stall, past the distracted vendors, and deftly stole a hooded shirt with Rhian’s face on it as the crowd jostled for Lion merchandise. Pulling the hood low over her head, she wove her way through the wall of shoppers, the bag with Dovey’s ball tight against her shoulder as she headed towards the blinking stall in the distance.
She passed more booths thronged with people buying phony Agatha hunting gear, while she hustled past, puffing out Rhian’s face on her chest, pretending she was his biggest fan. She was approaching Gilly’s now, the barker’s voice growing louder: “Step right up! Best tickets in tow—”
Something collided with her.
Agatha looked up to see two hulking green hobgoblins in Agatha-Vision goggles, toting full bags of Lion souvenirs. They gaped at her through their goggles . . . then slowly lowered them.
“Gaboo Agatha gabber,” said the first goblin.
“Gaboo shamima Agatha gabber,” said the second goblin.
“No no Agatha gabber,” Agatha said, pointing in the other direction. “Gaboo went that way.”
The goblins narrowed their eyes.
Agatha pointed at Rhian on her shirt. “See. King. Ooooh.”
The goblins looked at each other.
“Poot,” said the first.
“Mah poot,” said the second.
They dropped their bags and charged at her.
Facing five hundred pounds of rabid slime, Agatha plunged into the mob and shoved people in the goblins’ way like shields but the goblins rammed past them, the two creatures reaching out with stubby arms and grabbing on to Dovey’s bag—
Agatha spun around and overturned a vendor’s cart of fake crystal balls in their path, the rubber balls parroting “I see Agatha! I see Agatha!” in off-synch yelps and tripping up the goblins and half the crowd. Panting in relief, Agatha slid behind a newsstand, watching the goblins flop all over the slippery balls, while a female vendor beat them mercilessly with her shoe.
Suddenly, Agatha noticed the headlines of the Gillikin Gazette, clipped to the front of the stall:
LION SETS EXECUTION FOR “KING” TEDROS; WEDDING FESTIVITIES BEGIN TOMORROW
Agatha leaned closer, reading the article’s details about how Sophie handpicked the axe and executioner for Tedros’ beheading (a lie, thought Agatha) . . . about King Rhian’s new pen, Lionsmane, that was more trustworthy than the Storian . . .
An even bigger lie, Agatha scorned, remembering the cheap gold pens people were snapping up in the booth. The