Agatha turned to Tedros, who stood by Rhian’s side, their arms on each other’s shoulders, gazing blearily into the distance. . . .
Then the king and knight went rigid.
Agatha followed their eyes.
Out of the smoke and embers came the Snake, his suit of scims shredded from top to bottom, revealing the young, mortal flesh of his pale chest and legs. Blood and bruises covered his milk-white skin, his body weakened by the death of his armor. But the Snake lived, moving towards them with clear purpose, his emerald eyes honed in on Tedros through his green mask, still intact.
He stopped ten feet from the king.
Excalibur shimmered in its lockbox above their heads.
“Hello, Brother,” said the Snake.
“I’m not your brother,” Tedros spat, lit up with rage. “I’m the Lion who kills the Snake. I’m the king who will bring your head to my people. I’m the real king.”
“Are you?” said the Snake, his stare hard and cold. “Time will tell.”
Tedros stepped forward. “You’re out of time.”
The king stripped off his armor, revealing his bare, golden chest. He threw Lancelot’s sword aside.
“No magic. No weapons,” he said. “We end this tonight.”
“Tedros, no!” Agatha said, seizing his arm.
He pushed her away, glowering at the Snake. “You and me.”
The Snake stepped forward, torchlight casting shadows on his rippled torso.
“You and me,” said the Snake.
“Witches, mark it,” Tedros ordered.
Anadil’s rats sprinted around the two boys, dripping oil. Hester’s demon set the ring aflame.
“He doesn’t fight fair—” Agatha insisted to Tedros.
Tedros didn’t listen.
“On your signal,” he said to the Snake.
“Younger brother first,” the Snake cooed.
Tedros gnashed his teeth. “Now.”
They launched at each other like gorillas, chests slamming, before Tedros gripped the Snake by the neck and bashed him face-first to the ground inside the ring of fire. The king punched him in the head, Tedros’ fist crunching loudly against the Snake’s green scales, connecting with the flesh beneath it. The Snake struggled onto his side, then stabbed out his leg, hitting Tedros’ sternum and knocking him backwards, dangerously close to the flaming ring.
Agatha clasped Rhian’s arm. “You have to help him—”
Rhian didn’t move. “I made a promise,” he said. “This is his fight.”
The Snake lunged forward and clobbered the king, clawing at Tedros’ face, opening up bloody scratches. Tedros swung his arm around his opponent’s throat, driving him into the ground, before the Snake thrust his hips and kneed Tedros in the gut, taking the king down.
Agatha watched in horror as Tedros weathered blows from the deadly villain, while her friends looked on anxiously from outside the ring. Together, they could destroy the Snake. They outnumbered him ten to one! It didn’t matter what Tedros wanted. Not when he might die.
She lurched towards the ring, about to bound over the low flames—
Rhian snagged her back.
“His fight,” he said.
The two were on top of each other now, wrestling for dominance, Tedros hammering at the Snake’s chest as the Snake lay flat on him, squeezing the king’s throat. The Snake strangled Tedros harder and the king started to choke, his punches weakening. The Snake took advantage, slamming Tedros in the face with his fist, swelling the king’s eye and opening up a spigot of blood. Tedros writhed, struggling to free himself from the Snake’s deathgrip—
“No!” Agatha cried, trying to break from Rhian’s grasp—
The king turned blue, wheezing for his last breaths. . . .
Tedros shoved his palm onto the Snake’s face and with a stifled cry, he muscled the green-mask backwards, the king grunting desperately, about to pass out, until at last Tedros managed just enough space between their bodies. . . .
He jammed his boot against the Snake’s ribs and crushed him as hard as he could.
The Snake toppled backwards and fell close to the flames—
In a flash, Tedros was on him, gasping for breath, punching the Snake again and again.
“That’s for Chaddick,” he said, belting him.
“That’s for Lancelot,” he said, walloping him harder.
“That’s for Lady Gremlaine.”
“That’s for the Lady of the Lake.”
Blood seeped through the scales of the Snake’s mask, his body listless.
“That’s for me,” said Tedros, delivering the hardest punch of all.
He stopped to take a breath—
The Snake kicked him in the chest, sending Tedros flying out of the ring, his bare back grazing the flames and searing red.
Tedros landed in dirt, bloodied, bruised, and burned.
Agatha rushed to his side.
“Tedros—”
He was still breathing.
Slowly he lifted his muddy head and looked past his princess to the Snake in the ring. The green-masked villain hadn’t moved, still flat on his back, surrounded in a pool of blood.
Agatha remembered Chaddick posed the same way in a painting. The first page of a fairy tale that was now about to end.
“Come and kill me, little boy,” the Snake rasped. “Come and kill your brother.”
Tedros staggered up, but his legs buckled and he fell back. He tried again—
Agatha stopped him.
“Let . . . me go . . . Agatha,” he panted, blood streaming.
“He’ll kill you!” said his princess.
Tedros struggled against her, but she held him down. “This is . . . my . . . quest,” he snarled. “Let me . . . finish it.”
“Stay down. You’re losing too much blood,” Agatha said—
She saw the Snake’s body shift, starting to rise once more.
Agatha locked eyes with Tedros’ knight.
“Rhian,” she said firmly.
The knight didn’t move.
“I have to kill him,” said Tedros, pushing against his princess.
Agatha held him down, her gaze on the knight.
Still Rhian didn’t budge.
“This isn’t a choice, Rhian. I’m ordering you,” said Agatha sharply. “I’m ordering you as your queen.”
This time Rhian blinked.
“As you wish, milady,” the knight said.
Tedros glanced between them, suddenly understanding.
“No! I’m the king. . . . He’s mine. . . .” Tedros fought—
But Rhian was already walking into the ring.
The copper-haired boy slammed the Snake back down to the ground and put his foot on the Snake’s pallid chest.
“By order of the queen, I sentence you to die,” said Rhian.
The Snake quivered under his boot—
Rhian bent over, took the Snake’s head in both hands, and wrenched it hard, snapping his neck.
The Snake jerked one final time . . . then went still.
Fires cooled around the ring. Smoke blew across the Snake’s dead body.
Tedros slumped limply in Agatha’s arms.
Dazed soldiers converged on the courtyard littered with wounded bodies and scims. The allied leaders emerged from the gatehouse, along with Guinevere, to see the king and knight still alive and the Snake dead.
The depleted army unleashed a cry of victory. Over their heads, Willam and Bogden rang the bell in the Blue Tower, which echoed down to the city, where bells tolled in response and a cheer resounded, signaling that the people of Camelot knew the Snake had been killed.
Here in the field, the cheers fell away as everyone realized Tedros was still on the ground. Together they circled the wounded king.
Rhian kneeled beside Agatha, helping her hold Tedros’ body.
But the king’s eyes stayed on his princess.
“He was mine. . . . He was mine . . . ,” Tedros breathed, again and a
gain.
Agatha touched his face. “You’re still alive, Tedros. That’s what matters. It could have been a trick.” She held him closer. “I was protecting you.”
Tedros resisted. “But you didn’t protect me. You held me back. You always hold me back,” he said, looking right at her. “You don’t have faith in me, Agatha. You stop me from being a king. Don’t you see?”
He blinked through blood and tears.
“The only trick is you.”
The words hit Agatha like a stone. Her hands let go of him, ceding his body to the knight.
That is where the princess and the king ended.
Because the people of Camelot were already flooding through the gates, expecting a celebration.
By sunrise, the royal grounds were filled with Evers and Nevers from all over the Woods, eager to see the dead Snake and the Lion who killed him.
Still filthy and covered in blood and ooze, Agatha crouched behind a pillar near the balcony to eavesdrop on the people beneath.
“So-called King ain’t so-called anymore, ain’t he?” said a man proudly. “Beat the Snake with ’is bare fists.”
“Lion killed him, though,” said his friend.
“King already beat him to nothin’.”
“Lion finished him. All that matters.”
Agatha stopped listening.
She rose to her feet and looked back into the castle’s sitting room across the hall, where Sophie and Rhian were treating Tedros’ wounds.
“This is going to hurt,” said Rhian, standing over Tedros, who was shirtless and facedown on the couch, his back red-hot from the burns.
Tedros bit into a pillow and his knight spread salve on his skin while Sophie held the king down. Tedros let out a stifled roar, his teeth tearing the pillow to feathers, before his yells muted to groans and he let his two friends wrap him with gauze.
Agatha watched Sophie and Rhian take care of Tedros the way she should be.
“Something must be wrong when Good’s greatest helper isn’t helping,” said a voice.
She turned to see Guinevere next to her, dressed all in white, watching her son with Sophie and Rhian.
“I think I’ve helped Tedros enough for now,” Agatha said softly.
“You did what you had to do, Agatha. You kept my son alive.”
“And yet he hates me for it,” said Agatha, tears flowing.
“Because the Snake was his to kill,” said Guinevere. “Not for his own pride. But for his people. Tedros needed to be the king, no matter the cost, even to the end if need be. You took that from him.”
“But I didn’t want him to end up like Lancelot,” Agatha argued, smearing at her eyes. “I didn’t want him to die. Surely you understand that!”
“More than you can ever imagine,” said Guinevere starkly. “I didn’t want Lancelot to die, Agatha. Of course I didn’t. And yet I asked him to go into the Woods with Tedros, knowing he might.”
Agatha shook her head. “But you just said I did what I had to do. . . . So which is it? Which is more important? Keeping Tedros alive or letting him be a king when he might die for it?”
Guinevere smiled sadly. “Welcome to being a queen.”
She touched Agatha’s shoulder and walked inside.
A short while later, Agatha returned to the sitting room, bathed and dressed in a black gown, with Professor Dovey’s bag on her arm.
Tedros stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his father’s old coronation robes while Rhian changed into his blue-and-gold suit.
“God, this thing smells even worse than the first time I wore it,” said Tedros, fussing with the collar, clearly trying not to look at his battered face in the reflection.
“It’s just for a short while,” said Agatha.
The king glanced at his princess in the mirror. “You sound like my mother,” he said coolly.
He went back to Rhian. “You’re sure you tried to get the Snake’s mask off? There’s no way to see who he is?”
“The scims are both his armor and part of him somehow,” Rhian answered. “He sent the scims on his body to fight us, but the ones that make up his mask can’t be dislodged. His face is melded with them. Hard to tell where the magic begins and the human ends.”
“Well, as long as both the magic and human are dead,” said Tedros. He stared hard at Rhian. “Since you’re the one who killed him.”
“As I was ordered, Your Highness,” Rhian said stiffly, his eyes darting to the future queen. “My men will present his body to the people at the ceremony.”
Agatha waited for Tedros to say something to her.
He didn’t even look in her direction.
“Why are you lurking?” Sophie said to Agatha, sidling next to her at the back of the room.
Agatha frowned at Sophie’s shimmering pink princess dress. “I thought you were done with pink.”
Sophie eyed Agatha’s black one. “Pot. Kettle,” she said. “Oh come now, Aggie. I know I said I don’t wear pink anymore, but surely even a girl like me is allowed to feel like a princess. For one day, at least.”
“He certainly is a prince,” Agatha murmured, watching Rhian put cream on a gash near Tedros’ eyebrow.
Sophie tapped the bag on her friend’s shoulder. “Dovey’s crystal ball?”
“Found it untouched where I left it, thank goodness. Did Dovey really sleep through the entire battle?”
“I think we’re lucky she woke up at all this morning, given what she looked like last night,” said Sophie soberly. “Dovey claimed it’s that ball that’s been sapping her strength. Whatever you do, keep it away from her.”
“Where is she?”
“Getting the crew ready for the celebration. Dovey insists the Nevers be as presentable as the Evers in deference to the king. Which is taking some work, to say the least.”
Agatha snorted half-heartedly. Sophie rested an arm on her shoulder as they watched the boys.
“Will we exchange gifts in front of the people?” Rhian was asking Tedros. “As king and knight, I mean?”
“We won our battle, didn’t we?” said Tedros. “Besides, can’t deny a boy who grew up jabbing pillows with spoons and rehearsing for this moment his whole life. With all that preparation, your gift better be a good one.”
“My gift I know you’ll like,” said Rhian thoughtfully. “It’s your gift I’m concerned about.”
“Very funny,” Tedros said, elbowing him.
“Tedros?” Sophie asked.
The king turned.
“Are you going to try to pull Excalibur again?” she said. “At the celebration, I mean?”
Tedros considered this for a long moment. “The Snake is dead. The people of Camelot are happy. The Woods are safe once more. Excalibur will have its day,” he said. “Just not today.”
He smiled warmly at Sophie and Rhian . . . then at Agatha.
“See, darling?” Sophie whispered to Agatha. “You two are going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
Agatha didn’t answer.
Because from the way Tedros smiled at her, Agatha was thinking very much the opposite.
The door flew open and Merlin shambled in, his slippers muddy, his cape tattered, and his hat slashed and full of holes.
He took in the scene and grinned, revealing three teeth missing where there’d been teeth before.
“Ah. Just in time,” said the wizard.
“Presenting King Tedros and his royal court!” a courtier announced.
The crowd unleashed a roar as Tedros and Rhian emerged onto the Blue Tower balcony, followed by Agatha, Sophie, Guinevere, and Merlin. Tedros and Rhian took their places in front of the archway with Excalibur trapped in its stone, while Agatha and the others stood off to the side behind them. Agatha could see from the crowd’s dress and colors that it was composed overwhelmingly of citizens from beyond Camelot, many wearing Lion masks, holding Lion banners, chanting, “LION! LION! LION!”
Tedros raised Rhian’s fist in his and they soake
d in the ovation together.
Agatha made sure to stand next to Merlin, accidentally smacking him with Dovey’s bag as she did.
“That crystal ball shouldn’t be in your hands, Agatha,” said the wizard.
“Well, it shouldn’t be in Professor Dovey’s hands either, with what it’s done to her.”
“Then swear to me it will stay in your hands and no one else’s, until you return it to her,” Merlin said, glaring.
“Fine,” said Agatha.
“Swear it!” Merlin demanded.
“I swear! Happy now?” Agatha said, exasperated. “Where have you been? You look terrible.”
“I’ve always appreciated your candor, Agatha,” the wizard replied dryly. “I wish I could be as candid about my own travels, but the perils I’ve endured have served little purpose. It appears the king has found a happy ending all on his own.”
Agatha watched Tedros and his knight wearing matching smiles and waving to the people.
“Though maybe your ending is the one I should be concerned about,” the wizard said.
Agatha saw Merlin’s blue eyes peering at her suspiciously. She looked away.
Sophie touched her from the other side. “Look at them, Aggie,” she said, watching Tedros and Rhian hand in hand. “Who knew two boys could be best friends like us?”
Agatha mustered a smile.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sophie said, studying her.
Thankfully that’s when Tedros started his speech.
“Today I stand here as your king on a proud day for Camelot and a proud day for the Woods,” he said, amplified by one of Merlin’s white stars. “Under siege by a villain who threatened our way of life, we came together to stop him: Camelot and the Woods, Good and Evil, Ever and Never. Not just with our army built from my kingdom and yours, but also with a loyal group of friends at my side. Friends whose fairy tale the Storian is writing as we speak. And when that tale ends at the close of this celebration, the pen will have told the story of a team of peers who gave up their own quests for glory to set off on a bigger and more dangerous one. A team who not only succeeded in that quest, but achieved a glory bigger than any one of them might have attained on their own. People of Camelot, People of the Woods: I present to you, Dean Clarissa Dovey of the School for Good, and the crew of the Igraine!”