A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,28

the pale-faced boy didn’t flinch. He just smirked at Tedros, relishing the silence.

Then he pulled the black dungeon key from his sleeve. “I wish I could say this was a social call, but I’m here on behalf of my brother. After she had supper with the king tonight, Princess Sophie was given permission by King Rhian to release one of you.” He glanced down the hall and saw the rest of the crew poking their heads out of the cell at the other end, wide-eyed and listening. “That’s right. One of you who will no longer live in the dungeons and instead be allowed to work in the castle as the princess’s servant, under King Rhian’s eye. One of you whose life will be spared . . .”

The Snake looked back at Tedros. “. . . for now.”

Tedros bolted straight as an arrow. “She picked me.”

In a flash, all doubts Tedros had about Sophie vanished. He should have never mistrusted her. Sophie didn’t want him dead. She didn’t want him to suffer. No matter how much they’d hurt each other in the past.

Because Sophie would do anything for Agatha. And Agatha would do anything for Tedros. Which meant Sophie would do anything to save Tedros’ life, including finding a way to convince a usurping king to set his enemy free.

How had she done it? How had she gotten Rhian on her side?

He’d hear the story soon enough.

Tedros grinned at the Snake. “Get moving, scum. Princess’s orders,” he said. “Open the door.”

The Snake didn’t.

“Let me out,” Tedros commanded, face reddening.

The Snake stayed still, the prison key glinting between his fingers.

“She picked me!” Tedros snarled, gripping the bars. “Let me out!”

Instead, the Snake just put his face to the prince’s . . . and smiled.

6

SOPHIE

The Dinner Game

Earlier that evening, the pirates Beeba and Aran brought Sophie down from the Map Room for dinner.

Rhian and Japeth were already halfway through their first course.

“It needs to be harsh. A warning,” she heard Japeth saying in the refurbished Gold Tower dining room. “Lionsmane’s first tale should instill fear.”

“Lionsmane should give people hope,” said Rhian’s voice. “People like you and me who grew up without any.”

“Mother is dead because she believed in hope,” said his brother.

“And yet, Mother’s death is the reason both of us are in this room,” said Rhian.

As she neared the door, all Sophie heard was silence. Then—

“Supporters of Tedros are protesting tonight in Camelot Park,” said Japeth. “We should ride in and kill them all. That should be Lionsmane’s first tale.”

“Killing protestors will lead to more protests,” said Rhian. “That’s not the story I want to tell.”

“You weren’t afraid of bloodshed when it got you the throne,” said Japeth snidely.

“I’m king. I’ll write the tales,” said Rhian.

“It’s my pen,” Japeth retorted.

“It’s your scim,” said Rhian. “Look, I know it isn’t easy. Serving as my liege. But there can only be one king, Japeth. I know why you’ve helped me. I know what you want. What both of us want. But to get it, I need the Woods on my side. I need to be a good king.”

Japeth snorted. “Every good king ends up dead.”

“You have to trust me,” Rhian pressed. “The same way I trust you.”

“I do trust you, brother,” said Japeth, softening. “It’s that devious little minx I don’t trust. Suppose you start listening to her instead of me?”

Rhian snorted. “As likely as me growing horns. Speaking of the minx.” He laid down his fork on his plate of rare, freckled deer meat and looked up coldly from the decadent table, his crown reflecting his blue-and-gold suit.

“I heard guards pounding on the Map Room door, Sophie. If you can’t make it to dinner on time, then your friends in the dungeon won’t get dinner at all—” He stopped.

Sophie stood beneath the new Lion-head chandelier, wearing the dress they’d left for her. Only she’d slashed the prim white frock in half, ruffled the bottom into three layers (short, shorter, shortest), hiked them high over her knees, and lined the seams of the dress with wet, globby beads, each filled with different colored ink. Crystal raindrops dangled from her ears; silver shadow burnished her eyelids; her lips were coated sparkly red; and she’d crowned her hair with origami stars, made from the parchment she’d ripped out of the wedding books. All in all, instead of the chastened princess the king might have expected after their encounter in the Map Room, Sophie had emerged looking both like a birthday cake and a girl jumping