A Crystal of Time (The School for Good and Evil The Camelot Years #2) - Soman Chainani Page 0,56

not only read her message . . .

But that help was on the way.

A dove zipped by—“Agatha’s been caught! Have you heard!”

Sophie spun to see the cage near the altar emptied of its doves, which dispersed over the theater, tweeting in dignitaries’ ears: “We saw her captured!” “She cried for mercy!” “She’s rotting in the dungeons!”

Confused, Sophie looked up and saw Rhian’s fingertip glowing behind his back, stealthily directing the birds as he greeted the Ice Giant of Frostplains.

“Agatha has no army!” “Don’t believe the lies!” “She was alone when we caught her!” “Didn’t even fight back!”

Rhian swished his finger and the doves blitzed out the church doors, spreading the king’s lies into the crowd, distracting them from the message in the sky.

A dove crowed in Sophie’s ear: “Agatha’s a traitor! Agatha’s wicked—”

Sophie slapped it away, launching it right into the face of a girl in a white dress. “Eep, sorry—”

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said the girl, her head lowered, with a clipped accent and breathy tone. “I’m conductor of the Camelot Children’s Choir and we’d hoped you might join us in singing a hymn of praise to the noble Lion.”

Sophie scoffed. “A princess sing with the choir? Will the king tingle a timpani too? How absurd. I’ll watch you and your friends suck up to the Lion from the comfort of my throne, thank yo—”

Her voice broke off, for the maiden had raised her head, revealing dark hair, pencil-thin eyebrows, and twinkling black eyes.

“My choir would really love to have you,” said the girl.

Sophie followed her eyes to the group of teenagers in matching white uniforms and hats at the front of the church, gazing hard at her.

Help wasn’t on the way.

It had already arrived.

As Rhian had a heated discussion with the Queen of Jaunt Jolie, Sophie squeezed his arm. “The choir would like me to sing with them—”

“Finally, the famous Sophie,” cooed the queen, draped in a peacock-feather stole. She reached out her hand and Sophie noticed a silver ring with unreadable carvings, just like the one the Elf King of Ladelflop wore. “We were just talking about you.”

“A pleasure,” Sophie simpered, shaking her hand stiffly, before pivoting to Rhian. “Now about the choir—”

“The queen would like to meet with you,” Rhian said. “But I told her your schedule has filled up.”

“Whatever you say, darling. The choir is waiting—”

“I heard you the first time. Stay here and greet the guests,” Rhian ordered.

Sophie’s face fell.

“If my groom had spoken to me like that, I never would have made it to the altar,” the queen mused to Sophie. “Indeed, your schedule only ‘filled up’ once I told the king that he’s turned Camelot’s new queen into a lapdog. No speech at the coronation, no presence at meetings, no comment on Tedros’ capture or those of your friends, no mention by the king’s pen. . . . It’s as if you hardly exist.”

The queen turned to Rhian. “Perhaps I’ll take Sophie aside and discuss a queen’s duties in private. Two queens often succeed in solving problems a king cannot.”

Rhian glared back at her. “Now that I think about it, Sophie, your singing with the choir sounds like a good idea.”

Sophie didn’t need to ask twice. As she escaped, she saw Rhian whispering aggressively to the queen, his hand gripping her arm.

A moment later, Sophie gripped onto the choir conductor’s arm. “Shall we rehearse in the priest’s chambers?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the conductor pipped, and her choir mates scurried after Sophie like chicks behind a swan.

Sophie listened to the patter of feet, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

The Queen of Jaunt Jolie was right.

It had taken two queens to solve this problem.

And now the king would pay the price.

THE PRIEST’S SANCTUM reeked of leather and vinegar, its mess of books and scrolls veiled by dust. Sophie locked the door and shoved a chair against it before she twirled to the choir.

“My babies. My poopsies. Come to save their Dean!” she cooed, hugging her first years, starting with the conductor. “Miss Valentina, mi amor . . . And hello, Aja.”

“You remember my name?” squeaked the boy with dyed red hair.

“How could I not? You dressed like me for Halloween and wore the most divine boots. And Bodhi, Laithan, and Devan, my scrumptious Everboys. And lovely Laralisa, my cleverest witch. And my beloved Nevers, Drago and Rowan and dirty Mali—” Sophie frowned. “Um, who are those?”

In the corner of the room, a few kids in shirtsleeves and underpants were helping each other out a