فصل 19

Chapter 19

AGATHA

Into the Crystal World

Agatha watched the crystal ball sink into the water.

“Nothing’s happening,” said Tedros, next to her.

“Good, because if you expect me to get wet again . . . ,” Sophie huffed, still soggy in her white dress.

Agatha turned to her cat. “You said the portal opens when the crystal is underwater—” “And turned on,” said Reaper.

Their voices echoed through the Crown Royal Regis’ bathroom, appointed with a grooming station of jeweled brushes, fragrant oils, and milky creams, along with a sparkle-dusted sand litterbox and a heated blue-stone bathing tub, big enough for an army of cats, the steamy water sprinkled with orange blossoms. When Reaper had shown them into the room, lit by panels made of blue and orange fireflies, Agatha had been mystified. The Reaper she knew itched with fleas, peed exclusively on gravestones, and nearly killed her the one time she’d tried to clean him.

“It’s my father’s old bathroom,” Reaper explained, seeing her face. He climbed onto the edge of the tub. “This is the first time I’ve been in here.” Now Agatha watched as her cat finished sinking Dovey’s crystal into the hot bath, mist rising off the surface. The orb drifted down and settled on the blue-stone floor, the crack in its glass refracting through water, seeming bigger than its actual size.

Agatha, meanwhile, felt like she had a crack in her head. Dovey dead . . . Reaper, a king . . . the crystal ball a portal into a secret world . . . Tension pounded through her skull, her lungs sucked of air as if she was already underwater— Tedros touched her arm. “You okay?”

She gazed up at him, then at Sophie and Reaper, both assessing her.

Agatha wanted to say no . . . that it was all moving too fast . . . that she wanted to turn the story back to a time when life had no magic, no secrets . . . to a time when she had a home . . . a mother . . .

But then, as she took in her best friend, her prince, and her cat, Agatha realized she had another family now. A family she’d chosen. And after all they’d been through, to be with that family again, no matter how daunting the challenges ahead . . . it was all Agatha needed to wrench out of the past and find the present.

“You said the crystal is a portal,” said Agatha, composing herself. “A portal into what?” “Merlin called it a ‘crystal of time,’” said Reaper vaguely, skirting the edge of the tub. “We must get started—” “How did Merlin and Dovey discover the portal?” Tedros cut in.

“I told you. By accident,” said Reaper impatiently. “After you failed to pull Excalibur, Merlin and Dovey tried to use her crystal ball to understand why. Given how poorly you were treating Agatha after your botched coronation, I wanted you to pull the sword soon, for her sake, so I joined Merlin and Clarissa in their efforts. At first we had little luck. But during the summer, Professor Dovey’s office grows insufferably hot. Studying the ball one night before Dovey activated it, Merlin left a sweaty handprint on the crack in the glass. The crack grew softer, the glass spongy. The change made Merlin curious. So he and Dovey put the ball in the Groom Room pool to see what would happen when the Dean turned it on. Now, if there are no more questions, it’s time to get into the bath.” Agatha studied the dull orb, motionless underwater. What happened when Dovey turned it on? Her heart drummed. What happens when I turn it on?

“That’s what they were up to this whole time. Merlin and Dovey,” Tedros realized, peering into the water. “They were going inside her crystal ball. It’s what was making Dovey sick.” “Deathly sick. And now you want us to do the same thing?” Sophie challenged Reaper.

“It’s too dangerous,” Tedros agreed.

“The secret of why Tedros couldn’t pull Excalibur is inside that crystal. Then again, maybe there is no secret. Maybe Rhian is the real king,” said Reaper, holding up his paw when Tedros started to protest. “But the only way we’ll know for sure is to cross the portal. Too much is at stake to leave the question of why the sword recognized Rhian instead of Tedros unanswered. The fate of Camelot, the Storian, and our world depend on that answer. Merlin and Dovey were close to finding it, but they ran out of time. Since Agatha is Dovey’s Second, it is our duty to finish their work. No matter the risks.” Agatha looked at Tedros.

He was quiet now.

“Once Agatha submerges and activates the ball, the portal will open,” said Reaper, before turning to Sophie and the prince. “Both of you will be submerged with her and ready to enter.” Agatha was already climbing into the steam bath, the sweet-scented water flooding under her dress, warming the sore spots on her skin. Sweat beaded her temples, the bath feeling hotter by the second. She immersed her head and soaked her face and hair, her foot sliding along the stone floor until it touched the crystal.

A bomb of water detonated near her, tan muscles peeking through liquid clouds. Agatha resurfaced and through the mist, she saw Tedros, eyes closed and gritting his teeth as the heat burned at wounds on his bare chest. His breeches ballooned with water, his legs stretching out and grazing Agatha’s thigh. He opened his eyes and caught her watching. He flicked foamy water at her. Agatha splashed him back hard. Tedros grabbed her puckishly and pulled her to his chest, her body smushed against his bubbling breeches. He whipped his hair back and held her tighter, dripping sweat onto his princess as steam walled them in.

Slowly the steam broke apart and they saw Sophie gaping at them.

“I have to get in with them?” she said.

“You took a steam bath with Hort,” said Tedros.

“That was espionage,” Sophie defended.

“And this is to save the world,” Agatha retorted. “Get in.”

Muttering to herself, Sophie hiked up her ruffly dress and dipped her toe into the edge of the tub. . . .

She pulled back. “You know, I can’t swim and I’m feeling a bit feverish. Might be jaundice or diphtheria. All that oversalted food at the castle. And now that I think about it, this is Aggie and Teddy’s mission. They should be the ones to find out why Rhian pulled the sword instead of Teddy. I hardly know Rhian at all—” “You’re still wearing his ring,” said Agatha dryly.

Sophie glanced down at the diamond on her finger. “I’m perfectly capable of divorcing fine jewelry from its symbolism.” “Rhian picked you to be his wife,” Reaper pointed out. “He chose you to stand by his side, even though he has a brother far more loyal to him than you’ll ever be. So why would Rhian take a queen at all? A queen he certainly doesn’t love? He chose you for a reason. You are as much a part of this story as Tedros and Agatha and we need to find out why. Though if you insist you serve no purpose, I’m happy to leave you to the gnomes and see what they do with a friend of King Arthur’s son.” “I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” Sophie growled, shoving into the tub, her white dress pooling with orange blossoms. She drew into a corner, away from Agatha and her prince, still cozied together on the opposite side. “What now?” From the edge of the tub, Reaper clawed down Agatha’s shoulder and clasped onto her dress. “On the count of three, we’ll all go under. Agatha will trigger the crystal. The portal will open for a split second. Touch the crystal in that moment and you’ll be transported inside. This is important. You must touch the crystal. If you don’t, you’ll be shut out from the portal and so disoriented you will likely drown.” “Meanwhile, Beatrix gets to patrol a tree,” Sophie murmured.

Reaper’s shriveled body clung tighter to Agatha’s collar, the cat trying not to let his tail touch the water until it had to. “On your count, Agatha.” Agatha pulled away from Tedros and slid across the stone rim of the tub until the crystal was under her toes again. Gone was her sense of being overwhelmed, replaced by trust in where her story had led her. If this was Dovey’s and Merlin’s unfinished quest, then she would do everything to finish it.

She looked at her prince, then her best friend. “Ready?”

“Anything that gets me to the truth,” Tedros steeled.

“Anything that gets me to a new dress,” said Sophie.

Agatha took a deep breath. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .”

She plunged into the tub with Reaper, the twin splashes of Sophie and Tedros blooming underneath. Agatha thrust her head downwards, tangling in her friends’ limbs as she flattened her body against the stone floor so she was level with the orb. She gazed through the cracked glass into the center of the ball, the silence of the water stilling her mind.

The crack split open like a doorway and blinding blue light burst through like a tsunami, slamming Agatha against the wall of the tub and blasting Reaper away from her. The assault of light paralyzed her brain and weighed on her chest, her lungs pinned under the force of a boulder. She couldn’t think anymore, as if she’d lost the top of her head and any thoughts were flying away before she could catch them. Her hands and feet seemed to move where her eyes and mouth were, her eyes and mouth now down by her knees. She didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there. She didn’t know her own name or if this was happening in past or present, in forward or reverse. Two other bodies flailed near her, but she didn’t know whose they were or if they were human or monster.

Touch the crystal, a voice echoed.

Crystal?

What crystal?

Touch the crystal.

Pummeled by the light, she stabbed out her hand, two other hands thrashing into hers at the same time, all of them finding nothing but water. Agatha tore herself off the wall, reaching further, further, running out of breath— Her hand scraped glass.

Instantly her body shattered, like she was made of glass too, any last shreds of awareness shattering with it.

For a moment, there was nothing: just light inhaling her, then crumpling to darkness like a sheet of paper charring in at the edges.

Slowly, she reassembled, body, soul, self.

When she opened her eyes, Agatha was no longer in Gnomeland.

SHE WAS STANDING in a glass room, the transparent walls and floor glowing wintry blue, the inside of the room swirling with thin, silvery smoke. A faint ache throbbed at her temples, but her chest had gotten worse; every breath felt like it was packing her lungs with rocks.

“Where are we?” someone wheezed.

Agatha turned to Tedros and Sophie, their wet bodies framed by a rounded, luminous glass wall. Both looked shaky. Tedros rubbed at his bare chest.

“We’re inside the crystal ball,” said Agatha. “Look.”

She pointed at the wall behind them. Outside the glass, water rippled and foamed, contained by a blue-stone bathtub.

“I feel like I got clubbed by a troll,” Sophie choked, clutching at her flank. “No wonder Dovey was such a mess.” “For once, I agree with Sophie,” Tedros said, still breathing hard. “Whatever we just went through beat the living hell out of me. How could Merlin survive it?” “Merlin is a skilled enough wizard to defuse the power of the ball,” said a voice from the corner. “Most of it, at least.” They turned to see Reaper stagger up, a gnarled, drippy mess, looking less like a cat and more a mashed banana. “And while cats don’t actually have nine lives, we are much hardier than humans. Now stay alert. Our time inside the crystal is limited. Twenty or thirty minutes at most. The sooner we find answers, the fewer trips we have to make. The fewer trips we make, the less chance we suffer the same fate as your Dean.” Agatha’s neck smoldered red, her body’s sign that she was out of her depth. She gulped for air. “So what do we do now?” The silvery smoke whooshed past her head from all sides, crystallizing into the same phantom mask she’d seen at school. The mask glitched again between the features of Professor Dovey and the face of someone familiar, someone Agatha was so sure that she knew. . . . But there was no time to study it further because the phantom was diving towards her, primed to ask her who she wanted to see— Except this time, it blew right past her and pressed against the back of the glass, facing the empty bathwater as if Agatha was still outside the ball. Agatha watched from behind the mask as it spoke to no one, its voice echoing.

“Clear as crystal, hard as bone,

My wisdom is Clarissa’s and Clarissa’s alone.

But she named you her Second, so I’ll speak to you too.

So tell me dear Second, whose life shall I cue?

A friend or an enemy, any name I’ll allow,

Say it loud and I’ll show you them now.”

“Hurry! Start examining crystals!” Reaper exhorted, standing on tiptoes and inspecting the back edges of the mask.

“What crystals?” Tedros said, confused.

Agatha approached her cat, watching him paw the beads of smoke that formed the phantom— Her eyes widened.

It wasn’t smoke.

Each bead of mist was a crystal. Thousands of these little glass orbs, the size of teardrops, floated in the mask’s shape like pearls held together without a string. And within every one, a scene played out, like its own miniature crystal ball.

Agatha pulled a handful of these crystals towards her, their surfaces cool and bubbly to the touch. She peered into the small glass droplets, replaying key moments from her own life: as a toddler, chasing her mother across Graves Hill . . . walking with Sophie for the first time through Gavaldon’s square . . . falling from the stymph into the School for Good. . . .

But now she was finding crystals that played moments from Sophie’s life: Sophie as a baby with her mother . . . Sophie singing to animals in Gavaldon . . . Sophie battling Hester in an Evil classroom. . . .

Then, suddenly, Agatha was seeing scenes from Tedros’ life—

And Reaper’s too, she realized, peering into a crystal that showed her cat bullied by his handsome brothers.

“It’s showing all of our pasts,” Agatha said, thrown.

“Because all four of us are inside the ball. The crystal absorbs our collective souls,” said Reaper quickly, studying various crystals before discarding them to the floor. “That’s where Merlin and Dovey were limited in finding answers to why Excalibur rejected Tedros. Inside the ball, they only had access to their own lives. I told them to bring you three in—Tedros at the very least—but Merlin had vast experience at Camelot and Dovey a deep knowledge of the Woods, and they thought they could find what they needed in themselves without putting the prince at risk. They were wrong.” The cat batted more crystals away. “Enough talking. Look for anything that might shed light on why Excalibur favored Rhian over Tedros. Anything that has the slightest connection.” “You said we only have twenty or thirty minutes. These are our whole lives, Reaper. All four of us,” Agatha argued, still battling the pain in her lungs. “We don’t have time to ransack every moment from our pasts!” “Um, this isn’t my past,” Sophie sniffed, wielding a crystal that showed her climbing a tree in a ghastly black dress with shiny spikes that made it look like a porcupine hide. “I’ve never worn that dress, I never will wear that dress, and I don’t climb trees.” “Well, it must have happened at some point . . . ,” Agatha started, then stopped. In her hand was a crystal playing out a moment she’d seen before. A scene of two Tedroses running shirtless through a forest. She’d observed this very same scene back at school, when she was in the library, using the crystal ball to break into Camelot’s dungeons. The ball had glitched to this image . . . an image that made no sense at the time . . .

Because it hadn’t happened yet.

The crystal had first shown it to her days before she and Tedros would live out the scene in real life, two Tedroses escaping the execution after Dovey’s spell.

Which meant . . .

“This wasn’t the past. This was the future,” said Agatha, turning to her friends. “The crystals must show the past and future. Sophie, that’s why you’re seeing that dress.” “There is no future in which I will wear quills,” Sophie snapped.

“That’s what I would have said about two Tedroses running through a forest,” said Agatha. “But you wearing that dress will happen—” “Wait a second. Something’s wrong with this one,” Tedros cut in, holding up a new crystal.

Agatha and Sophie peered into it from both sides and watched a scene of a young Tedros, nine or ten years old, chasing after his mother as she scurried through the Woods.

“This is the dress my mother wore when she left Camelot to be with Lancelot. I remember that night so clearly,” said Tedros. “She escaped the castle without saying goodbye. But I never saw her go into the Woods. I never chased her. This is what I wished happened. I wished I’d gone after her like this.” He stared at the crystal, perplexed. “But it isn’t the truth.” Agatha and Sophie were just as puzzled.

All three turned to Reaper, immersed in scanning scenes and knocking them away.

“Must I remind you: the ball is broken,” the cat said, not looking at them. “A working crystal ball only shows the present. This one has a crack in it and that crack altered its sense of time, mixing up the present with the past and future. But not only that: the crack added the dimension of space, turning the ball into a portal. Now that we’re inside that portal, it’s up to you to sort through the ball’s broken time and determine which scenes happened when.” “But this scene never happened at all!” Tedros emphasized, holding up the crystal of his mother.

“Because human souls aren’t as reliable as cats’,” said Reaper, still studying crystals. “Humans store their memories, regrets, hopes, and wishes all in the same messy vault. Merlin may have called this a crystal of time. But that was wrong. This is a crystal of mind. The ball is cracked: it no longer shows us objective reality. It shows us reality as perceived by each of our minds. And the human mind is as cracked as this ball, clouded with error and revision. With each crystal, you must try to see clearly and determine what is true and what is illusion.” Agatha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So it’s not just time we have to filter, but we also don’t know if these scenes are actually real?” “Like this monstrosity of a dress,” Sophie said, holding up the crystal with the offending gown. “It could be the past . . . or the future . . . or a false memory like Tedros chasing his mother?” “Reaper, we can’t find answers when we don’t even know if the answers are true!” Tedros assailed.

The cat finally looked at them. “If it were easy, Merlin and Clarissa would have solved it.” Agatha looked at Tedros and Sophie. Without saying a word, all three began sifting through crystals.

Most of the scenes Agatha found were from her own life, as if the crystal ball was privileging her soul over the others since she was Dovey’s Second. But a few scenes seemed dodgy: one where she and Tedros were in Reaper’s throne room, with Tedros rifling through Dovey’s bag (that didn’t happen) . . . another where Agatha kneeled in a dark cemetery and laid a flower in front of a headstone marked “THE SNAKE” (that would never happen) . . . and one where she was hugging the bald, decrepit Lady of the Lake (she hadn’t hugged her when she’d gone back to Avalon . . . or had she? She’d been so sleepless and scared. Who knows what she’d done?).

Sophie’s scenes, meanwhile, were rife with mistakes: in Sophie’s memory, she’d saved Tedros in the Trial by Tale (it’d been Agatha), won the Circus of Talents with a beautiful song (it’d been a murderous scream), and slain Evelyn Sader and her wicked blue butterflies (it’d been the School Master). But most of the crystals from Sophie’s past featured Agatha in them, with Sophie again attempting to right wrongs: letting Agatha and Tedros go to the Evers Ball together; holding back the spell that made Tedros mistrust Agatha at the School for Boys; staying with Agatha and Tedros in Avalon instead of going back to Rafal. . . . But whether all these moments were truth or lies (mostly lies), Agatha still found comfort in being as much a part of Sophie’s soul as Sophie was hers.

Tedros’ crystals, on the other hand, tended to reflect scenes of him pranking stewards and nannies, feasting on steak and pheasant, and winning rugby games and swordfights, as if he’d repressed any part of his life that involved real emotion.

“It’d be nice to find one crystal of yours with me in it,” Agatha muttered to him, batting down a scene of her prince and his Everboy friends doing daredevil dives into the Groom Room pool. “The only things your soul is concerned with are meat and sports.” “You’re one to talk,” said Tedros, rifling through crystals. “All you and Sophie seem to think about is each other.” “Hold on. Here’s one of Teddy and King Arthur,” said Sophie, pulling down a crystal.

Agatha, Tedros, and Reaper gathered around.

Inside the crystal played a scene of Tedros as a squirmy three-year-old, climbing his father like a tree while King Arthur sat at a desk in his bedchamber, putting a feathered quill to a gold card of parchment. A waning candle dripped red wax onto the edge of the card, splattering it with thick gobs.

“That’s it!” said Tedros, stiffening. “That’s the card from my father’s will! The one he wrote the coronation test on. I remember holding it during the ceremony. It had red wax on it and the same crescent-shaped tear at one of the corners. . . .” Reaper’s eyes flared. “Agatha, touch the crystal and look inside the center, as if you were trying to activate a new crystal ball. Sophie and Tedros: hold Agatha’s hand. Quickly! This might be the one!” Agatha felt Tedros, Sophie, and Reaper grab on to her as she gazed directly into the glass droplet— Another storm of blue light attacked her, turning her mind to glue. This time it took longer for her to recover, as if she’d been severed into parts that she couldn’t put back together. Straining to focus, she saw she was inside King Arthur’s bedchamber, her friends and cat at her side. Her chest throbbed harder than before, as if it’d been whacked with a hammer. But there was no time to wallow in pain.

Tedros was already approaching his father, who was calmly writing at the desk in his nightclothes, floppy blond hair falling over his eyes the way his son’s often did. The Tedros of the present waved his hand in front of his father but Arthur didn’t see him. Tedros tried to touch his younger self, who was squirreling around in his father’s lap, playing with a gold Lion locket around the king’s neck, trying to get it open . . . but Tedros’ hand went straight through the boy’s clothes, through his father’s chest, and through the frame of the chair like a ghost’s.

“We are merely observers,” Reaper explained. “The Present cannot interfere with the Past. It is one of the five Rules of Time.” “What are the other four?” Agatha asked.

But now King Arthur was speaking to his young son nestled in his lap.

“This will be your coronation test when it’s your turn to be king,” Arthur said, finishing writing on the card. “And you will not fail, my boy.” He blew the ink dry, his face darkening. “No matter what that woman says.” The king sat there quietly, staring at the card, as young Tedros fussed harder with the locket, trying to open it with his mouth.

Then Arthur pulled out a second card from the drawer, this one blank.

He began writing.

The scene went dark, as if someone had blown the candle out. Agatha had the sensation of yanking backwards, like a misfired slingshot— When she opened her eyes, they had reappeared inside Dovey’s ball, surrounded by the floating mini-crystals and the ones they’d discarded on the floor. Only now, the entire room seemed more translucent, the blue glow in the walls dimmer.

They were running out of time.

“What did your father mean?” Agatha asked Tedros, who was lost in thought. “’No matter what that woman says’?” “I have no idea,” said her prince.

“And what was he writing on the other card?” Agatha wondered. “Did he have second thoughts and alter the coronation test? Did he plan for something else and then change it to you pulling Excalibur from the stone?” “There was only one card included in the will or the priest would have told me,” said Tedros. “Likely the second card had nothing to do with my coronation test. Those cards were reserved for official proclamations. It could have been for anything.” “Or it could be a false memory,” said Sophie.

“Maybe,” said Tedros. “But I feel like I was too young to store false memories.” “’You will not fail,’” Agatha repeated, reliving Arthur’s words to his son. “’No matter what that woman says . . .’” She chewed on her lip. “Could he have meant Guinevere?” “But why would my mother have thought I’d fail my test?” said Tedros, scratching at his rippled stomach. “She was so confident I’d pass it the morning of the coronation. . . . No, it couldn’t have been her.” “We need to bring Guinevere inside the crystal ball,” said Agatha, despite feeling sick over the thought of making Tedros’ mother endure the portal. “Surely her memories can help us—” “No,” said Reaper. “Merlin was clear about leaving Guinevere in the dark about the crystal’s powers. That’s why I sent her up with the Sheriff instead of bringing her here. Merlin believed her soul unreliable when it came to her life with Arthur. Leaving Tedros behind to pursue a life with Lancelot made her more apt to paint her husband as a villain to relieve her guilt. Bringing her into the crystal would open up too many tainted memories that would yield more trouble than answers.” “Tedros, wasn’t this your steward? That Gremlin woman?” Sophie asked from the other side of the room, brandishing a crystal.

Tedros and Agatha turned.

It was a scene of Chaddick outside Camelot’s castle, climbing onto a gray horse dappled with white spots as Lady Gremlaine, robed and turbaned in lavender, saddled the horse with a satchel of provisions and fussed over Tedros’ knight, smoothing Chaddick’s jacket and brushing it of leaves and dirt. She squeezed Chaddick’s hand and smiled at him, before Tedros moved into the frame and wished Chaddick off. Lady Gremlaine stepped back, giving the king and his knight space to say goodbye.

“I remember this,” Agatha said, looking at Tedros.

“I do too. We don’t need to go inside,” Tedros preempted, clearly skittish about jumping into another crystal. “Chaddick stayed at Camelot a few days before he left on his quest to find knights to join my Round Table. This was the last time I ever saw him.” “Lady Gremlaine took a shine to Chaddick,” Agatha recalled. “One of the only times I ever saw her smile.” “Because Chaddick respected and listened to her, unlike me,” said Tedros. “Until I got to know her better, at least.” “Lady Gremlaine,” Sophie mulled. “She’s the one who had a long past with your father, isn’t she? The one who the Snake killed before she could tell you her secret and the one who Rhian and Japeth told me you treated poorly. Which means Lady Gremlaine could be Rhian and Japeth’s mother and King Arthur their father. Which means Rhian could actually be the real . . .” She looked at Tedros. Tedros didn’t meet her eyes.

Agatha took her prince’s hand as they watched the scene again and again.

“Reaper, we need to send a crow to Hort and Nicola,” Tedros said finally, his eyes still on the crystal. “We need to tell them to find everything they can about Grisella Gremlaine.” Agatha’s skin prickled. That name. Grisella. She knew that name. Someone she’d met? Or learned about at school . . . ?

The blue glow in the walls around them faded lighter, Dovey’s ball losing connection fast.

“What happens when we run out of time?” Agatha asked, swiveling to her cat.

But Reaper hadn’t heard Tedros’ order or Agatha’s question, his attention locked on a tiny crystal between his paws.

“Wait a second. That’s me,” said Sophie, kneeling towards it before Agatha and Tedros did the same.

Inside the crystal, Sophie was waiting by the Gnomeland stump in the same white dress she wore now. The sky was dark, the Woods blacked out around her.

Sophie glanced at Agatha and Tedros. “This must be when I first came with Robin and then went back to look for you—” “No. It’s not,” said Tedros sharply.

Because in the crystal’s scene, Sophie wasn’t going to look for her friends. She was pacing by the stump, her eyes darting around the Woods, making sure no one had seen her. Then her body froze, suddenly bathed in flamelight, which grew brighter and brighter. . . .

A blue-and-gold carriage, lit by torches and carved with Camelot’s crest, entered the crystal’s frame, slowing down as it approached Sophie. There was a boy inside the carriage, his face shadowed as the driver pulled the horses to a stop.

The carriage door opened.

Sophie climbed in next to the boy.

The driver whipped the horses and the carriage reversed direction, back towards Camelot, as the shadowy boy and Sophie rode away, the leaves of the Woods dusting up behind them.

The scene went dark, before it began to replay.

Slowly, three pairs of eyes, two friends’ and a cat’s, all shifted to Sophie. Agatha’s heart pumped harder, her neck on fire. She looked at Sophie as if she were a stranger.

“You think I’d go back to the castle? To . . . him?” Sophie spluttered.

“You went back to Rafal the same way!” Tedros attacked. “The same exact way. Leaving Agatha and me behind, in the middle of the night, in secret.” “But I loved Rafal!” Sophie bit back, her cheeks pink. “I’d never go back to Rhian! Rhian’s a monster! He tried to kill both of you!” “While you stood by his side!” Tedros pounced. “While you fought for him!” “Pretended to fight for him!” Sophie shouted. “Everything I’ve done has been to put you back on the throne—” “Yes, me, the rot. The rot you said should have been killed,” Tedros lashed.

“You can’t think this is real. You can’t think it’s true,” Sophie said, her mouth trembling. She turned to Agatha and clasped her shoulders. “Aggie, please . . .” Tedros glowered at Sophie, so sure it was the truth. And for the briefest of moments, so did her best friend. . . .

Then Agatha’s heart slowed, the heat seeping out of her.

“No,” she exhaled. “It’s not true.”

Sophie let go of her, caving in relief.

Tedros shook his head. “You always trust her, Agatha. Always. And it’s nearly killed us a thousand times.” “But it hasn’t killed us,” said Agatha calmly. “And the reason why is staring at us, crystal clear. I’ve been searching through Sophie’s memories, just like I have yours and mine. And the difference between Sophie’s memories and ours is that she wishes she’d done the right thing all those times she didn’t. She wishes she’d been Good again and again and again. That’s why she’s my friend. Because I know what’s in her heart, beneath all her mistakes. And this future here? To return to a boy she doesn’t love and destroy everything she’s been fighting for? To throw away the friendships she’s given her life to build? It’s the darkest kind of Evil. And that kind of Evil . . . That’s not Sophie.” She squeezed Sophie’s clammy hand. Sophie smeared away tears.

Tedros tensed, veins straining against skin. “Agatha, if you’re wrong . . . imagine if you’re wrong . . .” “She’s not wrong,” Sophie rasped. “I swear on my own life. She’s not wrong.” But Agatha wasn’t looking at them anymore.

Her eyes were on a single crystal, suspended in midair at the bottom corner of the phantom, where Reaper had batted down all the others.

It caught her eye because this crystal was different.

It wasn’t a scene of her, Sophie, or Tedros.

It wasn’t a scene of her cat.

It was a scene of someone else.

Someone whose soul the ball shouldn’t have recognized at all.

“Huh?” said Tedros, examining it over his shoulder. “Definitely a mistake—” “I’m going inside,” Agatha declared, touching the crystal.

“No! Dovey’s ball will go dark any second!” Reaper warned. “You’re the only one who can reopen it, Agatha! If you’re inside a crystal when the ball loses connection, you’ll be trapped inside the scene forever!” But Agatha was gazing firmly into her crystal’s center.

“No, you don’t!” Sophie hissed, seizing her hand. “You’re staying right here—” Blue light clobbered both of them and again Agatha’s chest suffered the blow, her lungs crumpling like parchment, before solid ground appeared under her feet. Blinded by light, she couldn’t see, her mind a globby puddle, too weak to revive. As the blue glow dulled, she peeled her eyelids open and found Sophie by her side, just as battered and gripping onto her. Pallid and shaking, Sophie glared at Agatha, about to chastise her for putting them both at risk— Sophie stopped cold.

They were in a room Agatha knew: the walls covered in gold and crimson silkprint, matching the rug on the dark wood floor; the chairs refinished with Lion crests woven into the gold cushions; a bed curtained in red and gold.

I’ve been here, she thought, still disoriented.

Her mind locked in.

Of course.

Camelot.

The king’s bedroom.

Agatha and Sophie craned their heads out from behind a standing lamp— Rhian lay on the bed, his body cased in plaster, his face mummified by bloody towels so only his blackened eyes and gashed lips were visible.

His brother was feeding him broth, his gold-and-blue suit soaked in Rhian’s blood.

“I should have stayed behind,” said Japeth softly. “I never should have left you here alone with that . . . she-wolf.” Rhian’s voice came out gritty and weak. “No. She fought for me. She was on our side. They must have taken her hostage. Agatha and the rebels—” “You fool. You don’t think she was in on it?” the Snake blistered. “She conspired with the rebels before the execution. To pretend to be on your side. To act your loyal princess. She played you like the sweetest harp.” Blood oozed out of Rhian’s lips. “If that’s true, then why did the pen choose her? Why did the pen choose her to be my queen?” Japeth didn’t answer.

“She’s meant to be with me, brother,” Rhian rasped. “She’s meant to help us get what we want. What you want. To bring the one we love back from the dead.” Agatha’s heart stopped.

Sophie’s hand clamped hers like a vise.

The one we love?

Back from the dead?

Between the gap in the bed-curtains, the two boys were still, Rhian’s pained breaths the only sound in the room.

Japeth touched his brother’s lips. “There’s only one way to find out the truth. I’ll ride to find Sophie. If the pen is right, then she’ll be trying to find her way back to you. She’ll be on her own. But if she’s with Agatha and Tedros, the three of them thick as thieves, then the pen was wrong. And I’ll bring her heart back in a box.” His jaw sharpened. “I’ll bring you all three of their hearts.” Rhian struggled for air. “And . . . and . . . if you don’t find her?” “Oh, I’ll find her.” His brother morphed into his shiny black suit of eels. “Because my scims will search every crevice and cave and hole in the Woods until they do.” Agatha and Sophie turned to each other, panicked—

They knocked heads, sending Agatha reeling into the lamp, which rattled against the wall.

Agatha rubbed her skull. “I thought we couldn’t affect things inside the crystals,” she said, eyeing the lamp askew. “I thought we were ghosts—” “Aggie,” Sophie croaked.

“Mmm?” Agatha said, turning.

Sophie wasn’t looking at her. She was looking ahead, her face milk-white.

Through the slit in the bed’s curtains, Rhian was staring right at them.

So was Japeth.

“They see us,” said Sophie.

“Don’t be an idiot. They can’t see us,” Agatha scoffed.

Japeth bolted to his feet, teeth bared.

“They see us,” Agatha gasped.

Hundreds of scims flew off the Snake’s body, ripping straight for the two girls’ heads— But Agatha was already falling backwards into darkness, her best friend screaming and holding on for dear life.