A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,49

tea on the king’s throne.

“Surprised she picked you,” Rhian baited Hort. “From what I read, you’re the boy she never wanted.”

“Surprised you’re still alive, Your Highness,” said Hort.

“Oh, is that why she picked you? Because you’re going to kill me?” Rhian attacked, eyes flashing.

Hort looked at him quizzically. “No, Your Highness. I meant that Willam and Bogden predicted you’d be dead by now. That you’d have an accident before the Blessing. Saw it in their tarot cards down in the dungeons. And they’re never wrong.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hort,” Sophie said, turning. “Those two couldn’t predict a storm if they were in the middle of one.” She peered at Hort intently, as if reading his mind, before looking at the king. “Bogden was my student and failed all of his classes and Willam is an altar boy who I once caught having a passionate conversation with a peony bush. If those two are ‘seers,’ then I’m the Bearded Lady of Hajira.” She turned back to her work. “Oh yes, I see what’s missing.” She revised with her pink glow—

Celebrate! Rogue Agatha has been caught! Yet another enemy of Camelot, brought down by the Lion. Scoff at all other reports. There is only one army: the Lion’s Army. And it is made of you: the people of the Woods! Live under the Lion and you will be safe forever.

“There. Ready to post,” Sophie said, itching at her starchy white dress. “You know, the writing process is strangely fulfilling. Challenges every part of you.” She picked Rhian’s mug of tea off the throne, handed it to the guard onstage, and sank down onto the golden seat. “Even if it’s in the service of pure fiction.”

Hort tracked the mug in the guard’s hands, waiting for Sophie to make her move . . . but instead, she reclined against the throne, looking increasingly at ease, as Rhian inspected her work. Lionsmane floated out of the king’s pocket, the gold pen hovering next to him, waiting for him to approve Sophie’s message.

Rhian kept rereading it.

“If you think you can do better, you’re welcome to try,” Sophie mused.

“Just seeing if you’ve hidden anything inside of it,” the king growled. “You know . . . like a message to your friend and her ‘rebel’ army.”

“Yes, that’s me. The Sultaness of Subterfuge,” Sophie wisped. “Slipping unbreakable codes into a king’s propaganda.”

Rhian ignored her, still studying her words.

To Hort’s alarm, the king had forgotten about his tea entirely. With Rhian’s back turned, Hort kept glaring at Sophie, who seemed to have forgotten about the tea too as she sat there smiling like a Cheshire cat. What was she doing? Why did she look so smug? She needed to get him to drink the tea! Hort’s heart hammered. Should he offer Rhian the tea himself? How suspicious would that look! Sweat trickled down his cheek. He needed to settle down or his scim would sense something—

That’s when Sophie rose and calmly took the mug back from the guard.

“Your tea is getting cold and I can’t stand the smell,” she said, walking it down to the king. “What did you make it with? Burnt leather and cow dung?”

Barely looking at her, Rhian swiped it and magically reheated the mug with his gold fingerglow, his eyes still vetting Sophie’s message. . . .

“We’re going to be late,” Sophie said, firing a spell at the message, gilding it in gold, before she magically shot it through the window and into the sky, where it branded against the brilliant blue. “People will think I’m having cold feet.”

Rhian frowned, still focused on the message. “Where’s Japeth?”

“Licking his scales?” Sophie mused.

Rhian turned to the guard. “Fetch my brother, so we can ride with him.” He took a last big swig of his tea.

Hort held his breath. He saw the clumped hazelnuts slide to the surface and straight into the king’s throat—

Rhian choked instantly.

He dropped the teacup, which shattered and splashed as he grabbed his throat with a wheezing spasm.

It’d been the same choke that Hort had induced in Dabo with a tree-sapped pebble before the bully had managed to cough it out. But this time, Hort used two nuts. Rhian doubled over, hacking with all his might, but all that came out was a gasp.

For a brief, shining moment, he thought Rhian was going to die, just like he’d hoped. Sophie backed up at Hort’s side, eyes widening, as if her nightmare was over—

But then Hort saw the guards running for the king.

Time for Plan B.

Hort’s head