“Professor Dovey contacted me this morning through her crystal ball,” said Lady Gremlaine hastily. “She’s despondent that the Courier printed it without contacting her first. She wanted to tell you in person, but I said I would handle it—”
Tedros buckled. “But . . . but how . . .”
“I pressed her, but she wouldn’t give details—”
“Wouldn’t give details? My best friend’s dead and Agatha’s gone and so is everyone else and the dumb bat won’t give details!” Tedros cried, grabbing and kicking at the wall. Frames fell around him, cracking against the floor. “He didn’t send me a note. . . . He shouldn’t have even been in Avalon. . . . I—I—I don’t understand—”
Lady Gremlaine touched him. Tedros fell into her, panting softly. He stayed in her arms a long time.
“He was my friend,” Tedros rasped.
“And he always will be,” Lady Gremlaine said.
“You can’t be here!” a voice cried in the hall.
“Well, I am here, so clearly I can be,” said a hoary male voice.
“But there’s a warrant for your—”
The doors to the hall flung open and Merlin, Professor Dovey, and Lancelot all marched in, chased by a phalanx of stewards, both Tedros’ and Agatha’s, Reaper biting at their heels. Guinevere swept in last, regal and coiffed in a rich purple gown—
She froze.
The once-queen gazed at her son, covered in blood and in Lady Gremlaine’s arms.
“Lady Guinevere!” said Lady Gremlaine, letting go of Tedros. “They’ll arrest you! How’d you even get—”
“We’ll take it from here, Lady Gremlaine,” said Guinevere.
Lady Gremlaine straightened. “The king and I have a meeting. You best leave the castle at on—”
“We’ll take it from here,” Guinevere thundered.
The hall was dead silent.
Lady Gremlaine turned to Tedros, waiting for him to say something . . . to stand up in her defense . . .
But Tedros wasn’t looking at her anymore.
“Mother—” he gasped.
He rushed into Guinevere’s arms, wiping his eyes, before he moved on to embrace Professor Dovey, Merlin, and Lancelot, so thankful to have a family again just when he needed one most.
By the time Tedros even remembered his steward, Lady Gremlaine was already gone.
14
TEDROS
What It Feels Like for a King
The Treasury Master was put off until after lunch.
Chef Silkima nearly passed out when she saw there were five to feed instead of just the king and scampered back to the kitchens, which erupted in shrieks and a clatter of pans.
“I’d offer my hat to help, but it’s on strike until I give it a pension plan,” Merlin sighed, taking a seat in the Blue Tower dining room. “Says it wants ‘security.’”
“And I thought fairies were a challenge,” Professor Dovey murmured, sitting beside him.
“It’s Lance’s fault,” said Guinevere across the table. “Couldn’t leave the hat alone, demanding food night and day: turkey legs and beef bourguignon and enough bacon to rid the world of pigs . . . Wore the poor thing out.”
Lancelot shrugged. “A man needs to eat.”
Sitting quietly at the head of the table, Tedros listened to the group banter: first about how they’d snuck into the castle (they’d mogrified into dung beetles beneath Merlin’s hat and shoved it around like a dung ball) and then how’d they’d taken turns changing under Agatha’s bed into clothes they’d hidden in the hat as royal guards made their rounds—
“But won’t Lady Gremlaine tell everyone you’re here?” Tedros cut in, wringing his hands. “Won’t they kill you for the bounty?”
The group went quiet. Merlin met Tedros’ eyes.
“I’m afraid the time has come to endure such risks, Tedros. Given recent events, we need your mother and Lance to be at your side from here on out. That said, if anyone gets too close, I’ve reminded your mother and Lance how to use their spells from school to defend themselves.”
Under Merlin’s stern glare, Guinevere and Lancelot quickly lit their fingers. Guinevere’s flickered feebly. Lance’s burnt hot red, then snuffed out spectacularly with a loud fart sound and burp of smoke.
“Or at least, confound their attackers,” Merlin piffed.
Tedros managed a smile. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. All of you.”
His mother smiled back, her eyes glistening.
“If only this were a social call,” said Merlin.
Tedros tensed. He knew there had to be a reason that Merlin would risk his mother’s and Lance’s safety and Professor Dovey would leave her students to come here. But hearing it out loud made his stomach hollow.
“I’ve had my fill of bad news today,” he said.
“No news, good or bad, should be discussed on an empty stomach,” Merlin assured. “Silkima!”
More pots clanged in the kitchen.
Lunch was meatballs with yellow curry, spaghetti squash with smoked paprika, and peppered radish patties, all of which had been violently spiced, as if the cooks had taken out their angst on the food. By the end, Tedros had sweated through his shirt and the whole table spent as much time sniffling and gulping iced water as they did eating.
“Dessert is chili-spiced truffles,” Chef Silkima announced, stonefaced.
“Perhaps we’ll skip it,” the wizard told the chef, waiting until she was gone before he turned to the rest. “Shall we talk?”
A short while later, they were all on one side of the table, some sitting, some standing, as they studied the Quest Map floating over them and listened to Professor Dovey finish recounting what she and Merlin knew about Chaddick’s death and Sophie’s and Agatha’s adventures in Avalon.
“After I spoke to them in my crystal ball, Agatha and Sophie started tracking the Snake,” she said, pointing at a miniature white-sailed ship inching across the Savage Sea. “The Storian painted them last night aboard the Igraine, which should reach Jaunt Jolie later today judging from its movements here. But four quest teams are missing that I haven’t been able to reach via crow or crystal ball—Ravan’s, Kiko’s, Vex’s, and now Beatrix’s in Jaunt Jolie. All their teams appear safe, given their names haven’t been crossed out on my map. But each of the four teams seem to be moving away from their assigned kingdoms, which seems a rather ominous coincidence.”
Tedros could see his mother and Lance as shocked by all this as he was.
“This Snake killed Chaddick and is going after our quest teams because of . . . me?” he said to the wizard and Dean. “So The Lion and the Snake . . . that story we learned growing up . . . It’s real?”
“As a point of fact, no,” said Merlin. “The Lion and the Snake isn’t a real tale at all. And whoever this Snake is likely knows that.”
“What do you mean it isn’t real?” Lancelot asked.
“The Storian didn’t write it,” said the wizard. “By all accounts, The Lion and the Snake was invented by an early king of Camelot a thousand years ago. He and his brother both laid claim to the throne, so he made up this tale and spread it through the kingdom as if it were real. He portrayed his brother as the Snake and himself as the Lion, suggesting the kingdom would be in grave danger if his brother were picked to rule instead of him. The people listened and crowned him king.”
“So we grew up learning a fake fairy tale?” Tedros said.
“But is it fake if people believe in it?” asked Merlin. “You assume that it is truth that makes a story valuable, because the tales that come from the Storian are true. The Storian writes history. But man is capable of writing stories too and man has no obligation to truth or to history. Indeed, the Storian wrote its own honest version of The Lion and the Snake at the time, recounting the tale of the king who spread falsehoods to win his crown, but it is a story no one remembers or tells. Instead, the story that lasted is the fraudulent one. Even the Royal Rot stopped reminding its readers long ago that the
founding tale of Camelot is fabricated, because no one seems to care. Something about the false story resonates with people. Something that makes the story endure. Even if it’s based in a lie.”
“And this Snake,” said Tedros, “he believes the story is true?”
“You’re not listening, Tedros. The story is a thousand years old. Clearly the Snake has no ties to the brothers in the tale,” Merlin said, voice hardening. “What matters is how the Snake chooses to interpret the story. What matters is whether the Snake believes he can use the tale to take your throne.”
“But the Snake dies in the story—” said Tedros.
“Wrongly, in this Snake’s view,” said the wizard. “In the story, the Snake believes the Lion has stolen a throne that is his. The Snake out there in the Woods must believe the same thing about you. It’s why he’s chosen to live out this story again and see it through to its just end. In his mind, you’ve taken his throne. Now he wants it back. And it is up to you, as the true king, to stop him.”
Tedros’ head was pounding. “I don’t understand. No one else has a claim to the throne—”
“And yet your father’s sword remains trapped in a stone. So your claim too remains in doubt,” the wizard hectored. “And if the Snake comes for you, you’ve done nothing to show anyone that you are indeed the Lion in this story.”
“What are you saying, Merlin?” Guinevere asked, sharing her son’s confusion.
Merlin glared back at her. “His friend is dead, Guinevere. The rest of his friends might be next, along with his queen. Kingdoms everywhere are under threat and begging Camelot for help, only to get no response from its king. A king who someone out there believes shouldn’t be king at all. So instead of jerking Excalibur day after day, which clearly isn’t going to work, I’m saying he should be trying to find out why it’s stuck there in the first place.”
“I am King Arthur’s son,” Tedros declared, leveling Merlin with a stare. “I am the Lion by birthright and if a Snake dares challenge that, I will kill him. With or without my sword.”
The room was quiet.
Merlin exhaled. “Clarissa. Show him.”
Professor Dovey didn’t move, grimacing. “Merlin, I don’t think we—”
The wizard turned to her. “Show him or I will.”
Professor Dovey took a deep breath and pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. She placed it on the table. “This was the Storian’s last page before I left for Camelot. I had one of the fairies copy it as best they could.”
Tedros pulled it open.
“You betrayed Chaddick for a Snake?” Sophie cried. “Chaddick had Tedros’ trust! Chaddick had Tedros’ faith! What does a Snake have?”
Slowly the Lady of the Lake raised her eyes.
“He has Arthur’s blood,” she said.
Tedros, his mother, and Lancelot all turned to Merlin, white as milk.
“Arthur’s blood?” Guinevere breathed.
Lancelot shook his head. “That’s . . . that’s . . .”
“Impossible,” finished Tedros.
“Not necessarily,” said Merlin, glancing at Professor Dovey as if they’d already thought this through. “There are a number of explanations for what the Lady of the Lake said to Sophie. The Snake may be a relative of Arthur: a half-brother or nephew or blood cousin we are unaware of. The Snake could be referring to having Arthur’s physical blood in his possession, even to suggest that he killed Arthur, meaning he inflicted the mortal wound at the Battle of the Four Point almost seven years ago. He could even mean it figuratively: that he has Arthur’s blood ‘on his hands’ and holds Arthur responsible for a crime he’s committed. Whatever the Snake’s meaning, it made the Lady of the Lake let him into her kingdom and protect him over Tedros’ knight. Even more, this Snake must be quite the charmer, because it appears from the Storian’s painting that the Lady of the Lake has lost her powers. . . . Which means the Lady likely kissed him as well.”
“The Lady of the Lake? Sorceress eternal? Kiss a boy?” Lancelot said, agape.
“My reaction, precisely,” said Professor Dovey.
“To seduce the Lady of the Lake into giving up her powers is a staggering feat—one that should strike fear into all of us,” said Merlin gravely. “But that isn’t the only thing that’s troubling. The Lady of the Lake is capable of mistakes; she has human emotions after all. Excalibur, on the other hand, does not make mistakes. And it remains trapped in the stone at the same time that a Snake has made its way into the Woods, claiming to have King Arthur’s blood.”
Everyone was quiet, a thick unease filling the room.
For the first time, Tedros finally understood what Merlin had been trying to tell him.
“So there’s two possibilities,” Tedros said. “One is the Snake has no claim to the throne and Excalibur wants me to prove I’m the true king, not him. Only then can I pull the sword.”
“Correct,” said Merlin.
“And the second possibility?” asked Guinevere.
“The second possibility isn’t a possibility,” said Tedros.
“The second possibility is that Excalibur is waiting for the Snake to pull the sword and prove he’s king, not Tedros,” said Merlin.
Tedros felt nauseous, hearing the wizard say it out loud.
“The Snake can’t have Dad’s actual blood,” he said, breathless. “Dad had no brothers or sisters.”
“Unless there was one he didn’t know about,” said Guinevere. “He called Sir Ector his father, the man who adopted him. I never met his real parents. I don’t even know who they were.”
“Did Dad know who they were?” Tedros asked his mother.
Guinevere blushed and stared at her hands. “I feel so stupid. I should have asked more about his family. But Arthur had a way of closing off certain avenues of conversation. There were many things we just didn’t talk about. It’s why it was so easy for the two of us to keep secrets from each other.”
An uncomfortable silence fell.
“After Lance and I left . . . ,” Guinevere started. “Is it possible Arthur—”
“No,” said Tedros. “Dad never touched another woman after you abandoned him. He was faithful to you, even if you weren’t to him.”
Guinevere nodded, unable to look at him.
Tedros’ head was hammering. Chaddick dead . . . Lady of the Lake kissed . . . Dad’s blood . . .
“What do we do, Merlin?” he asked shakily.
The wizard looked him straight in the eyes. “My king, I am asking you that question.”
Tedros saw the whole table turn to him.
“When you were in peril at school, Clarissa and I did our best to intervene,” said Merlin. “We knew what we were up against with the School Master. But this time Clarissa and I are of little help. This is no ordinary villain. Not if he made the Lady of the Lake betray you and drained her powers. The Snake could surely waltz into Camelot and try his hand at Excalibur any moment he chooses. But he hasn’t. Why? Because he wants to make you look weak first. He wants the people of the Woods to see they’re behind the wrong king. Only then will he come for Excalibur—when they no longer have a Lion to believe in. And as that Lion, you must stop him. So now, my dear king, you must tell us what to do.”
Tedros swallowed, every muscle in his body rigid.
He’d been king for more than six months. But this was the first time he felt like one.
“I’ll lead an army against him,” he said finally. “An army of Good and Evil, like my father would. The Snake won’t stand a chance.”
“Thank you, my king. Then that is what we will do,” said Merlin, turning to the others. “But we must build this army quickly.”
“Merlin, we have no soldiers, no knights, and no funds,” said Tedros, feeling powerless again. “We don’t even know the Snake’s plan—”
“I said Clarissa and I would be of ‘little help.’ Not ‘no help,’” said the wizard. “Look closer at this map.”
Tedros leaned in, as di
d his mother and Lancelot.
“Or rather: look bigger,” the wizard said.
He swished his hand and the floating Quest Map extended at both ends, showing more and more three-dimensional kingdoms far beyond the scope of the students’ quests—kingdoms Tedros had never heard of: Dannamorah, Sing-Sing, Hisa Hassan, Shangri-La . . . The map kept stretching across the length of the dining room until it jammed against the walls and started curling in, reaching around Tedros like a python. . . .
“The Woods are endless. That we know, since fools like me keep trying to find the end of them,” said the wizard, stopping the map’s advance before it mummified the young king. “And yet, the Deans of the School for Good and Evil only assign students’ quests in the kingdoms nearest to the school. A perfect little orbit . . .” He swept his hand, lighting up the fourth years in a fluorescent circle around the twin castles. “Why? To keep students at close distance, should there be a need to dispatch a rescue team.”
He erased the glow along with all the figurines and names. “Now let’s look at the terror attacks in the Woods. Terror that is supposedly random and assaulting kingdoms without warning. But is it so random? Look at where the attacks have happened—”
Merlin pointed a finger and instantly dozens of kingdoms on the map were plagued by shadows of magical terror: a raging fire in Glass Mountain; looting werewolves in Bloodbrook; clouds of bees in Gillikin; yogurt mudslides in Altazarra. . . .
“If the terror were random, then one would expect it to appear everywhere. Even in kingdoms at the farthest ends of the Woods. But as you can see . . .” He nodded towards the extended regions of the map, blissfully clear of attacks. “They seem to have been miraculously spared. Instead, all the terror is concentrated right here at the center of the map. And if we’re even more precise . . .” He waved his hand, lighting up the afflicted kingdoms with fluorescent glow—
“They’re all in a perfect orbit right around Camelot. Just as your classmates’ quests are all circled around the School for Good and Evil.”
Tedros stared at the illuminated sphere circling his kingdom. “Um, okay. I know I’m supposed to know what this means, but I wasn’t as good a student as Agatha—”