A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,36

can barely produce passable smiles, the Nevers are hopeless with their Special Talents, and they’ve just had their fingerglows unlocked two days ago. There hasn’t even been a Trial by Tale. They’re certainly no army yet. But you’ll whip them into shape.”

“Me? You want me to train them?” Agatha blurted. “But I’m not a teacher! Sophie can bluff being a Dean because, well, she can bluff anything, but not me—”

“You’ll love the new Everboys. Charming little foxes.” Professor Anemone glanced back, her makeup dried out and cracking. “Especially the boys of Honor 52.”

“Professor, I don’t even know these students!”

“You know Camelot. You know the castle, you know its defenses, and most importantly, you know the false king who sits upon the throne,” said Professor Anemone. “You are far better equipped than any of the teachers to lead our students in this fight. Besides, until you complete your quest, you’re still an official student, and given the Storian is writing your tale, the teachers cannot interfere in it. Clarissa made that mistake and clearly paid the price.”

Agatha shook her head. “But can the students even do basic spells? Will the Evers and Nevers work together? Have you told them what’s at stake—”

“My dear, take advantage of the peace and quiet while you can,” said her teacher, steadying the stymph at a cruising altitude. “There won’t be much of either once we get to school.”

Agatha exhaled through her nose. How could she relax until her friends were free? And how was she supposed to lead a school? A school full of students she’d never met? If she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she’d appreciate the irony: Sophie had been thrust at the head of Camelot, where Agatha was supposed to be queen, and now Agatha was expected to command the School for Good and Evil, where Sophie was supposed to be Dean. Agatha’s heart revved up, then sputtered, drained of adrenaline after her all-night visit to Sherwood Forest. She could feel her eyelids drooping . . . But with Dovey’s crystal ball slung on her shoulder, weighing her down, she didn’t dare fall asleep, for fear it would yank her overboard and drop her like a stone.

Clutching Dovey’s bag tighter, Agatha scanned the landscape and spotted a golden castle ahead, thin spires clustered like organ pipes.

Foxwood, she remembered. The oldest Ever kingdom.

In front of the castle, the thick forest receded, giving way to Foxwood’s outer vales, with rows of cottages surrounding a tree-lined square. The pavilion was mostly deserted this early in the morning, except for a baker setting up his cart in front of a stone fountain. Wrapped around the fountain, Agatha could make out colorful banners hand-drawn by the kingdom’s children.

So Long, So Long, the Snake is Gone!

HAIL KING RHIAN, THE SNAKE SLAYER!

Long Live Queen Sophie!

As the stymph soared over increasingly lavish houses, closer to Foxwood castle, Agatha glimpsed three young kids in gold-foil Lion masks jousting with wooden swords as their father raked the yard of leaves. She’d seen the same thing in Gillikin: children idolizing the new King of Camelot as their hero. Disturbed, Agatha looked back up.

The stymph was about to smash right into the side of the king’s castle.

“Professor!” Agatha shrieked—

Professor Anemone snored awake and in a single move shot a spray of sparks at her stymph, which jolted from its own slumber with a squawk, skimming the golden tower just in time.

The stymph reared in midair, panting hard, as Professor Anemone stroked its neck, trying to calm it down. “Seems we both fell asleep,” she croaked as the stymph peeped sheepishly at his riders through eyeless sockets. “And no wonder, given the rumpus at school. Thankfully we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Rumpus” didn’t sound good, Agatha thought, but right now she was worried they’d woken the Foxwood guard. If anyone spotted her, they’d surely alert Rhian. She peeked back towards the castle, about to urge Professor Anemone to get moving. Then her eyes widened—

“What’s that?”

She’d been so busy looking down that she’d missed the giant message in gold, embedded in the lightening sky overhead.

“Lionsmane’s first fairy tale,” said Professor Anemone, still caressing the stymph. “You must have been deep in Sherwood Forest to miss it. Been up there nearly a full day now. Visible from any kingdom in the Woods.”

“Lionsmane . . . You mean ‘Rhian’s pen’? The one he’s pit against the Storian?” Agatha said, remembering the newspaper in Gillikin. She quickly read the message in the sky about a woman named Tsarina, blessed with a child