فصل 25

Chapter 25

SOPHIE

Rhian and the Real Thing

“My mother was a secretive woman,” said Rhian, taking off his shirt. “I know very little about her time as your Dean.” With cloud cover cooling the garden and the king increasingly limp, they’d returned to the veranda. Maids brought Rhian fresh bandages and creams for his wounds, which he now applied to his bare torso, grimacing and struggling to reach.

Sophie sat next to him.

Do I kill him?

Do I not kill him?

After everything Rhian had just told her, she didn’t know if he was Good or Evil anymore. If he was lying or telling the truth. If he should live or die.

But one thing was still true.

His brother had to die.

Kill Japeth and the worst Evil would be gone.

Kill Japeth and Rhian might leave Evelyn Sader in her grave.

Kill Japeth and maybe she could let Rhian live.

Maybe.

But what about Tedros?

Rhian had to die or Tedros couldn’t retake the throne.

Presuming Tedros should retake the throne.

But what if Rhian was right?

What if Rhian would be the better king?

He was the real heir, after all.

And just because Agatha and Tedros were Sophie’s friends didn’t mean Tedros should rule Camelot. Nor had Tedros ever talked about his people or why he should be king with the same passion that Rhian showed her.

What if being the One True King is Rhian’s destiny? Sophie thought, stiffening. What if his having the Storian’s powers could bring lasting peace to the Woods? What if it could stop Evil forever, just as he promised?

Then killing Rhian wasn’t the Good thing to do.

Killing Rhian would be Evil.

Sophie’s heart shriveled.

And I’m Evil.

Is that why the crystal showed her murdering him?

Because her soul wanted her to do an Evil deed?

Because it wanted her to be a witch?

Rhian wrestled awkwardly with a bandage—

“Oh, I’ll do it,” Sophie sighed.

Rhian eyed her tentatively . . . then lay back. She kneeled by his side and wrapped the cloth around his ribs. He flinched at the coldness of her touch.

First things first, she told herself.

Rhian kills Japeth.

That part of the script hadn’t changed.

Which meant she had to find their weak spot.

That thread of mistrust she could unravel.

“Tell me about her,” she said, rubbing cream into a bruise on his shoulder. “Your mother.” “Japeth inherited her magic, unlike me,” said Rhian, eyes closed, trying not to wince. “I must be like my father. Who my mother never, ever brought up. We knew not to ask. But I had my suspicions.” “Such as?”

“There was the old card with Camelot’s seal I found in my mother’s room, inviting her to dine at the castle. ‘Looking forward to seeing you,’ it said, in the king’s own hand. I was obsessed with Camelot like every young Everboy, so imagine my excitement. My own mother knew King Arthur? My own mother once dined with the king? But when I asked her about the card, she punished me for snooping in her things. Then there was the way she hid us in Foxwood, not allowing us to leave the house or go to school, as if she was afraid someone might find us out. Then one day, a woman showed up at our door: a woman I recognized from the Camelot Courier as King Arthur’s steward. I couldn’t hear her and Mother’s conversation, but why would King Arthur’s steward come see our mother? Yet if I tried to ask questions about the king, Mother would shut me down. And any mention of Queen Guinevere would draw a black glare and mumbles about ‘that uppity shrew.’ It was obvious my mother and King Arthur had a history. That something happened between them. And both Japeth and I seemed to have Arthur’s looks . . . or at least I did. A little bit of sun and I match his complexion. Put Japeth in the sun and he looks like burnt ham.” “But that’s absurd! Why wouldn’t your mother tell you who you were? Why not tell the whole Woods she’d borne Arthur’s sons?” Sophie asked. She thought of the way Evelyn’s eyes gleamed triumphantly before she looped the spansel around the king’s neck. “That was the point. To claim Arthur’s heirs—” Rhian opened his eyes, peering at her.

He doesn’t know, Sophie realized. He doesn’t know how he was made.

“I think she tried,” said Rhian. “I heard her crying once, cursing my uncle August for siding with ‘him.’ She must have told Arthur she was pregnant with his child. But Arthur had a queen by then. He had Guinevere. Maybe he threatened my mother to keep her quiet. Maybe my uncle August helped him. That’s why she was hiding us.” “But what about after Arthur died?” Sophie pushed. “Surely then she would have told people—” “Who would have believed her?” said Rhian. “What proof did she have?” “And your brother? Did he suspect that King Arthur was your father?” Rhian batted away a fly. “Tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn’t listen. He said he was quite sure who our father was.” “Who?” Sophie pushed.

“’Not King Arthur,’” said Rhian, mimicking Japeth’s hard tone. “He thought I was a fool about all of it, so enamored with the king that I’d convinced myself I was his long-lost son. But truth be told, Japeth and I never really saw eye to eye about anything. We’re twins, but total opposites. Two halves of a whole.” Sophie resisted a smile. Rhian and his brother weren’t so different from she and Agatha. Finding the wedge between brothers might be easier than she thought. . . .

“So your mother was closer to Japeth?” she asked. “He seems quite attached to her.” “Too attached,” said Rhian crisply. “It’s why Mother loved me more.” Sophie looked at him. “Go on.”

“Japeth couldn’t share my mother with anyone. Including me. If my mother showed me even the slightest bit of attention, he’d have terrible rages. When I made her a cake for her birthday, he put something in it that made her ill. When she showed our cat too much love, it disappeared. After every incident, he’d be sorry; he’d cry and vow it would never happen again. But it always did. And worse each time. Mother and I were prisoners of his rage. It’s what made us so close.” Sophie tensed, still unused to feeling sympathy for the boy she’d come to kill. “And there was nothing you could do? You couldn’t send him away or . . .” “My brother?” Rhian said, stone-cold. “My twin?” “But from what you’ve said—”

“Every family has problems. Every single one. You find a way to right the wrong. To heal the rot at the core.” “You speak about family the same way you speak about the Woods,” Sophie said cynically. “But Evil can’t just be erased.” “Well, here I am, still at my brother’s side, our relationship stronger than ever. Tells you what I’ll be like as king, doesn’t it?” Rhian boasted. “I never gave up on him. Unlike my mother.” Sophie raised her brows, but Rhian anticipated her question.

“The rages got worse,” he explained. “Nearly killed my mother and me a few times. She used her butterflies to spy on him. To pin him down during his fits. Thankfully she was more skilled with her magic than he was with his. That’s how we stayed alive.” Rhian paused. “Then she wrote the School Master about him.” “The School Master? Why?”

“My mother taught there once. My uncle August had gotten her a job as Professor of History. She and the School Master grew close—too close, I hear, since he ended up expelling her from the school. My mother believed that women didn’t have the same advantages that men like her brother had. That her only chance at glory was to cozy up to powerful men. Like Arthur. Like the School Master. Both attempts backfired. Clearly Arthur wanted nothing to do with her. And the School Master didn’t just banish her; he cut off contact entirely. My mother sent him letters, begging him to accept Japeth to the School for Evil, to take him off her hands. He owed it to her, she said. But he never answered. Nor was Japeth claimed by the stymphs when the time came.” “Did your brother know any of this?” Sophie asked, treating another bruise. “That your mother was trying to get rid of him?” Rhian shifted uncomfortably. “No. We were out of money by that time too, barely having anything to eat. Finally my mother told us she was going to see our father. If she could just face him in person, she had hope he’d help her. She’d make him help her. In the meantime, my brother and I would be enrolled at Arbed House. She’d had a talk with Dean Brunhilde, who, after meeting my brother, assured my mother she could handle Japeth, or ‘RJ’ as the Dean affectionately nicknamed him. She seemed to relish lost causes. Even so, my mother insisted I be there to help keep an eye on him. Until she came back, of course.” Rhian took a shallow breath.

“Never heard from my mother again. My guess is Arthur rejected her. This was around the time the king died. Something in her must have broken after that. She never came back for us. Didn’t send a single letter. The love I thought she and I shared . . . the bond I thought we had . . . None of it mattered. She wanted to get away from Japeth. She wanted to get away so badly she was willing to leave me behind too.” A tear hovered at the corner of his closed eye.

“For a long time, we didn’t know where she was. We heard rumors. That she met the Mistral Sisters and became interested in the theory of the One True King. That she joined a colony of women, intent on enslaving men. That she killed King Arthur herself. All we knew for sure is that she ended up at the School for Good and Evil as its Dean, with a vendetta against Arthur’s son. It only gave me more proof that Arthur was our father. Clearly she wanted to take revenge on Tedros for his father’s betrayal. For taking everything her sons deserved. She even tried to bring the School Master back from the dead to kill Tedros. But in the end, it was the School Master who killed her.” Rhian exhaled. “My brother and I were on our own for good.” A warm gust curled through the veranda as they sat in silence, Rhian’s heart pumping under Sophie’s palm. For him, this was digging into the darkness of the Past; for her, it shined new light on the Present. Evelyn’s dress softened against her body, like a loving embrace, as if at last she knew all its secrets. For a moment, any agenda, any plan she’d had evaporated in the wind.

“She abandoned you,” Sophie said quietly. “She abandoned you because of your brother.” Rhian didn’t answer.

“Does he know?” Sophie asked.

Rhian opened his eyes and the tear fell. “He thinks she went to see our father because she still loved him and was proud to tell him about her sons. That when he rejected her, she died of a broken heart. I could never tell Japeth the truth. That it was him that drove her away. That it was him that broke her heart. It’s the curse of being Evil. It makes you torment the ones you love. And Japeth loved my mother too much.” Sophie went quiet, thinking of all the times love made her a monster.

“Not long after my mother died, the Mistral Sisters came to us,” said Rhian. “They told us King Arthur was our father, just like I’d always known. When Japeth mocked them, they gave us that dress you’re wearing now. My mother’s dress that came alive before our eyes. It led us to the pen that showed us our futures. The pen that picked you as my queen. The pen you think is a mystery . . . but that dress knew where to find it. The pen told us our mother’s wishes. That the future queen be given her dress. That her son seize his rightful throne. And if we did as she said, there was a way to bring a soul back from the dead. To bring her back from the dead. All the Evils of our past would be erased. The story would have a new ending: me, the One True King . . . Japeth, Mother, and I, reunited at Camelot’s helm . . . Our family restored, as it was meant to be.” Sophie thought about Lionsmane’s storybook at the Blessing; the one that told Rhian’s fairy tale. It had left out the secrets. The shades that mattered. Like all storybooks.

“What did Japeth say?” Sophie asked.

“Well, he went from mocking them to suddenly believing I was the One True King. He made me promise that if he helped me become that king, I would bring the one he loved back to life. It took time for us to work out our plan, of course . . . but Japeth never flagged. He was as invested as I was, now that he had my mother at stake. I could see the hope in his eyes,” Rhian recalled.

Sophie pictured Evelyn Sader, with her milky skin and bee-stung lips . . . with her manipulative ways and vengeance against men . . . with her nefarious butterflies and revisionist histories worthy of her son’s pen. . . .

But Evelyn Sader had been a mother too.

A mother, like Sophie’s own, who’d made mistakes.

A mother who’d died, wishing for another chance.

Sophie’s skin goose-pimpled under the white lace, caressing her like someone’s touch. She let out a breath of disbelief.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Your mother’s dress,” Sophie said, brushing her hands across the downy corset. “I know it sounds absurd, but all of a sudden, I feel like it . . . likes me.” She raised her eyes. Rhian was watching her through clear, blue-green pools. A Lion’s deep, assessing gaze.

“I see why every boy falls in love with you,” he said.

“Before, you saw why every boy dumped me,” Sophie replied. “Which is it?” Rhian leaned over his chair and took her hand. “I thought I knew your fairy tale. But no story can do you justice. It took me time to see deeper. Beneath the beauty and wit and games. I know you now, Sophie. The real you. Petals and thorns. And I love you for them both.” Sophie couldn’t find air, blood pounding through her. She hadn’t been spoken to with such passion. Not since Rafal.

“You have your brother,” she said weakly, trying to keep her wits. “You have Japeth. You can’t have me too.” “After what happened with my mother, I was afraid to ever love someone,” he said, sliding off his chair. “I couldn’t let Japeth do to them what he’d done to her. I had to put him first. But I can’t give you up, Sophie. I need you too much. I can be myself with you like I can’t be with anyone else, even my own twin. I love you in a way I can never love him.” He put his lips to her neck. “Because this is love that I choose.” He slipped his hands around her throat and lifted his mouth to hers. His hands ran over her dress and the lace turned to white butterflies beneath his fingers, rippling and flapping in waves, the sound of their wings beating, the symphony of a kiss.

Then, as their lips tangled and danced . . . a chill swept through the room.

Rhian didn’t notice, his hands sifting through Sophie’s hair.

But Sophie noticed, along with the shadow creeping over the veranda.

She kissed Rhian harder. “What do we do about Japeth?” “Mmmmm?” Rhian said, in a hot fog.

“I don’t want to end up like your mother,” Sophie breathed. “I want us to be happy. Just the two of us. We could be alone. We could be free.” “What do you mean?” Rhian asked, between kisses.

Sophie let the words come. “If he was . . . gone.” Rhian stopped kissing her.

He pulled back, his face hard.

“I told you. He’s my brother. He’s my blood.” Sophie gripped his shoulders. “You think your mother will be happy to see him when you bring her back? He’ll drive her away, like he did the first time! ‘Past is Present and Present is Past. The story goes round and round again.’ Your words. And you said she wanted to get rid of him . . . that she left because of him . . . that she loved you more—” “Did she?” said a voice.

Rhian stopped cold.

Slowly he turned to see his twin standing against the wall of the corridor, bloody and beaten in his tattered suit of scims.

“Well, then. Give Mother my regards,” said Japeth, walking away.

He tossed something at Rhian’s feet.

A silver ring, stained with blood.

The king stared at it, his eyes wide and frozen, before they rose to Sophie. . . .

Then he went after his brother.

SOPHIE HAD ORCHESTRATED this, of course.

The moment she’d seen Japeth’s shadow and sensed that chill. She’d chosen her words to Rhian and made sure his brother overheard.

Witches knew how to start wars.

If all went well, Japeth would soon be dead.

Whether she let Rhian live or die, on the other hand . . .

Maybe that’s why the scene in the crystal cut off before she killed him. Before she buried Excalibur in his back. Because even the future didn’t yet know what would become of Camelot’s king.

Clouds brewed darker overhead. Sophie followed the boys’ voices to the catwalk between towers. She peeked around a stone column.

“I told you she’s dangerous,” Japeth boiled, his cheeks bruised in violet hues. “She’s the real snake.” “I didn’t mean those things. Not in the way she said,” Rhian defended as he threw on a shirt, the two boys separated by a long length of stone. “Mother loved you. I love you—” “You think I’m stupid. You think I didn’t know our own mother? I know she loved you more. I know what I am,” Japeth lashed. “What I didn’t know is that you’d trade me, your own blood, for the kisses of a wench.” “You don’t know Sophie. Not like I do,” Rhian battled. “I told you she’d come back. She’s my queen, just like the pen said. That’s why she escaped the rebels. That’s why she betrayed her friends. She believes in me. She’s loyal!” “Did you ask how she escaped?” Japeth attacked. “Or where the rebels are?” “She doesn’t know,” Rhian returned fervently. “They’re always on the move. . . .” Japeth smirked, letting him hear the echo of his own words. Doubt shadowed Rhian’s face.

“Your ‘queen’ is a liar,” said the Snake. “She won’t be happy until we’re both dead.” A scim began to shriek, squirming over his mangled shoulder. Japeth lifted it off his suit like a butterfly, letting it softly babble in his ear.

The Snake’s eyes floated up to Rhian . . . then past the king’s shoulder.

“Come out, come out, little spy,” Japeth cooed.

Sophie’s heart leapt into her throat.

She knew better than to disobey.

Without a word, she stepped onto the catwalk.

“Brother?” Japeth said calmly.

The king glanced at Sophie, then at the Snake.

“Bring me her blood,” said Japeth.

Rhian returned an empty stare.

“You speak of loyalty? Look at my wounds! Look at what I’ve endured to get the last ring! For you!” Japeth scorched. “That was the pen’s promise. You get a queen and I get her blood. Forever. Now, bring it to me.” Rhian flexed his jaw.

He didn’t move.

A scim launched off Japeth’s suit, tore across the catwalk, and slashed Sophie in the cheek, spilling blood onto her white dress.

Sophie screamed, repelling into the stone column and hitting her head. She grabbed at her cheek, her skull exploding with pain, blood slipping through her fingers.

Across the catwalk, the eel had returned to its master, dripping Sophie’s blood onto him, healing the Snake’s face to a smooth, flawless white and breeding new scims to sew up his suit. He gave his brother a venomous look.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Highness. I’m going to go sit in your bath and by the time I get out of it, either that witch is gone from this castle or I’ll kill her myself. Magic blood be damned.” He shot Sophie a lethal glare, then strode into the Gold Tower.

Rhian watched him go.

Slowly the king’s eyes moved back to Sophie, splotched with blood, flattened against the stone column.

“He’s the devil,” she gasped. “You have to fight him! You have to kill him!” Rhian shook his head. “I told you. He’s my family. My family,” he gritted. “I can cure him. I can make him Good.” “Good is about standing up to Evil!” Sophie blasted. “Real Evil, even if it’s your own brother! He drove your mother away from you. And now he wants to drive me away too. Past is Present and Present is Past. The story repeats until you change it. That’s what a hero does. That’s what a king does. You say you love me? You say you’re Good? Well, until you fight back, all I see is a coward. All I see is a fool.” Rhian’s mouth trembled, his whole body slacking under the weight of his emotions. For a moment, he looked like a little boy. A little boy who’d had to make this choice many times before.

He steeled himself, his face a hollow mask.

“Take the carriage,” he said. “Leave here and never come back.” He limped off the catwalk, Excalibur askew at his hip.

Then he was gone.

Sophie stood there, tasting her own blood in her mouth.

Waves of fury crashed and foamed through her.

To think she almost let that coward live.

No.

Rhian would die.

They would both die.

But how?

Japeth was taking a bath.

Rhian had surrendered to him.

The promised fight would never happen.

And she had nothing to replace it, no weapons, no plan, except a crystal in her pocket— She held still.

Across her gashed face crept a wicked smile.

A crystal and a bath.

They were all the weapons she would need.

BY THE TIME Sophie neared the king’s bedroom, she could hear the bath running.

From behind a column in the dim hallway, she spied two pirate guards outside the doors, swords on belts.

Her eyes roved to the other end of the hall . . . and a massive chandelier over the foyer to the king’s wing.

Sophie’s finger seared pink—

She shot a flare, shattering the chandelier, spraying crystals in every direction.

“Whawazzat?” one guard pealed.

The two of them abandoned their post, sprinting for the foyer.

Quickly Sophie darted from behind the column and kneeled at the doors to the king’s chamber. Her cheek throbbed with pain, still dribbling blood onto her dress. Through the crack, she saw the bedroom empty, the door to the bath half-closed, the sounds of the tub filling behind it. She caught a glimpse of Japeth through the bathroom door. No sign of Rhian anywhere.

She slipped into the king’s chamber.

Pearl-gray skies glowed through the windows, illuminating the gold-and-crimson silkprint walls, the chairs carved with Lion crests, and the perfectly made bed, the gold-and-red curtains drawn back. She heard Japeth’s footsteps padding behind the half-closed door in the corner.

Treading lightly, Sophie crawled under the bed. She had to get Japeth out of the bathroom, long enough for her to sneak inside.

She’d only get one shot.

Raising her lit finger, she launched a flare into the closet, which detonated like a firecracker, collapsing all the racks of clothes.

Instantly, Japeth bolted out, still in his suit of scims. While he inspected the closet, Sophie slithered on her stomach through the door.

The king’s bathroom shimmered like a gilded mausoleum, with mirrors reflecting mirrors and Lion crests carved into every tile and tap. Steaming water gushed into a vast tub, perched on gold-sculpted lion claws, the bath nearly overflowing now. A separate nook for the toilet lay dark and tucked away in the corner.

Sophie glanced into the bedroom as Japeth emerged from the closet, frowning, and pulled open the doors of the king’s chambers, only to see the two guards missing.

“Idiots,” he murmured.

He headed back to the bath.

Heart rattling, Sophie seized the crystal from her dress pocket, said a silent prayer . . . and dropped it into the tub.

She ducked into the toilet nook as Japeth entered.

His suit of scims magically receded, revealing his frost-white flesh as he approached the tub and disappeared into the thick steam.

Without his spying eels able to detect her, Sophie breathed easier, safely concealed. Evelyn Sader’s dress swaddled tighter, nuzzling her reassuringly. As Japeth climbed into the bath, Sophie was surprised at how vulnerable he looked, the savage who’d murdered her friends nothing more than a slim teenage boy. Little by little, the Snake submerged into scalding water, letting out an ordinary gasp of pleasure and pain.

Sophie peeped out of the nook, waiting for it to happen.

Because if Rhian’s and Japeth’s souls were recognized by Dovey’s crystal, then they had the same powers as Dovey or her Second . . . which meant the moment Japeth sank into the bath, fished the crystal out from under him and looked into its center . . . all of which unfolded now as Sophie watched, her stomach in knots . . . then in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

Blue light beamed through the bath and Japeth sprung back in surprise, splashing water everywhere.

Slowly Japeth extracted the glowing crystal from the water and held it up to inspect it. Then he noticed there was something inside . . . a scene playing out within its glass edges. . . . He peered closer as Sophie held her breath. . . .

“Japeth?” a voice called.

Rhian’s.

Japeth squeezed the crystal in his fist, snuffing its light.

“Get out,” he ordered.

“She’s gone.”

Japeth’s face changed. “How gone?”

“Gone.”

Silence passed between brothers.

“I made you tea,” said Rhian’s voice. “Just the way you like it.” Japeth slipped the fist with the crystal back underwater. “Come in.” Sophie cursed to herself.

Rhian pushed through the door. He was in his blue-and-gold suit and carrying a mug.

“Poisoned, I assume?” said Japeth.

“Naturally,” said the king, his crown catching gilded light. “What was that noise?” “Avalanche in your closet. Shoddy work.”

“Evidently. A chandelier just crashed outside. Could be Sophie’s parting gift, though. Guards are searching the castle to make sure she’s left.” The twins eyed each other.

“No wedding, then?” Japeth asked.

Rhian smiled limply. “Not sure what we’ll do with all the gifts. Apparently the Sultan of Shazabah is sending a magic camel.” Japeth exhaled. “You won’t miss her, brother. In a few days, you won’t even remember her name.” The king smoothed his blue-and-gold suit, as if brushing away this part of the conversation. “We’ll summon the Kingdom Council tomorrow and burn the last ring.” “Then the Pen’s magic will be yours,” his brother said eagerly. “Lionsmane, the new Storian. You, the One True King with infinite power.” “With infinite power comes the burden to do right by that power,” said the king. “A responsibility I hope I’m worthy of.” “As if that’s in question,” Japeth flattered. “You’ve always been the Good brother. The one everyone loves. That’s why you’re the king.” Rhian cleared his throat. “Where should I put your tea?” “What will you do first?” Japeth pushed. “What will be the first thing you write with Lionsmane?” “To abolish the Kingdom Council and that wretched school forever,” Rhian replied. “Time to return these Woods to the people.” “Never got over that you weren’t taken to be an Ever, did you?” Japeth baited. “Or maybe it was that I wasn’t taken away, leaving you and Mother in peace.” Rhian stiffened. “Japeth—”

“What will you do with the school?” Japeth asked sweetly.

“Burn it to the ground,” the king said, relieved by the change in subject. “’A conflagration so fierce and high that it can be seen all across the Woods.’ Something like that. Words to be written. Words you and I will watch come true.” “And Agatha and Tedros and all the rebels? What of them?” “They’ll be dead with a penstroke. Erased into thin air.” “No Harpies to skin their flesh or trolls to eat their brains? No cataclysm of pain?” “Only the pain of a footnote,” said Rhian.

Japeth snorted. “I knew there was a reason I helped you become king.” Rhian turned serious. “We both know the real reason, Japeth.” His twin suddenly looked unsettled.

“You helped me fulfill my wish, Japeth,” said Rhian. “And once we burn the last ring, it’ll be my turn to fulfill yours.” Blush spots rose on Japeth’s cheeks.

“A wish I promised you, for your loyalty and faith,” said Rhian intensely. “You vowed to help me become king if I vowed to bring the one you love back to life with the Pen’s powers. You’ve kept your word. Tomorrow I’ll keep mine.” Japeth choked up with emotion, hardly able to speak.

“Thank you, brother,” he whispered.

Rhian rested the tea on the tiled edge of the tub. “First day back on my feet has been more than I can handle,” he sighed. “No magic healing blood for me, I’m afraid.” “Go lie down,” Japeth said, with tenderness Sophie had never heard from him before.

Rhian nodded, loosening his belt and sword. He turned for the door— “Rhian?” Japeth said.

The king looked back.

“Mother would be proud of you,” said the Snake. “For putting family first.” Rhian smiled faintly. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

He shut the door behind him.

Japeth leaned back in his bath. He closed his eyes, as if drained by the exchange, only to open them when he realized he still had something in his fist.

He raised the glowing blue crystal out of the water, honing in on the scene inside.

Sophie held her breath.

This time there were no interruptions.

The Snake watched the scene replay, again and again and again.

Slowly his muscles tensed, his body curling upright, his knuckles gnarled around the glass droplet. Ice-blue veins popped out on his neck; his teeth clenched, coated with saliva; his eyes narrowed to murderous slits.

Slowly, the Snake looked up at the door.

He rose out of the water, eels materializing on his skin, black scaly strips crisscrossing the smooth white flesh, re-forming his suit. Then he stepped out of the bath, his wet feet shrieking softly against the tile.

He pulled open the bedroom door.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Mmmm?” Rhian answered sleepily, Sophie unable to see the king from her hiding spot.

Japeth stepped into the room, out of Sophie’s view. “The girl. Where is she.” “I told you. Gone—”

“Liar. Your little she-wolf never left. You made me think that you gave her up. That you chose me. But she’s been here all along. Waiting for you to get rid of me.” “What are you going on about—”

“WHERE IS SHE!” Sophie heard Japeth roar. “You think she’ll love you? You think she’ll be your beloved queen when I’m gone? She’ll murder you in cold blood the second you kill me.” “Kill you? Did a scim cut a hole in your brain?” “I see through you. I’ve always seen through you. I’ll find her myself!” Sophie heard the familiar shhhppp! of scims scudding off Japeth’s suit and the sound receding as they sprayed into the castle, hunting her.

“You really think she’s here?” Rhian retorted angrily. “That I’m hiding her?” “I know what I saw.”

“Saw what? Saw where? Search the castle all you want. She’s in a carriage, halfway to Gillikin—” Sophie slid out from her nook, crawled along the bathtub, and scrunched into the tiny triangle of space behind the door. She peeked between the hinges.

“You’ve always chosen others over me. Me, your own blood,” Japeth hissed at the king, who was on the bed in his rumpled blue-and-gold suit, the belt with Excalibur strewn aside. “And yet, I choose you over and over and over. I kill for you. I lie for you. I sack and pillage kingdoms for you. I do everything for you. Rhian, the Good. And me, the Evil monster. Me, who can never love. And yet, when I did have love, the one and only time in my life, you destroyed it.” “Here we go,” Rhian moaned.

“I had a friend. The only friend I ever had,” Japeth said, quivering with emotion. “A friend who made me believe I wasn’t so Evil after all. And you took that friend away.” Rhian sprung to his feet, scowling. “That’s not true—” “You voted with the others to banish him! You voted to dump him in the Woods like a dog!” “He tried to kill me!” Rhian thrashed, clutching at the scar on his skull. “He put a dagger in my head!” “’Cause you said things about him! About him and me! About our friendship!” “Because he was a monster! A sadist with no soul! And you were too blind to see it. Cozying up to him and following him around like a dog. Siding with him over me. Like he was your brother. Or more than a brother—” “He was my friend! My best friend!” Japeth screamed. “And the Dean put his expulsion to a vote and if you’d voted for him to stay, if you’d forgiven him, everyone else would have too! They would have listened to you! The Good forgive. And they thought you were Good. I thought you were Good.” Tears soaked Japeth’s eyes, his voice a child’s. “You made my friend leave. Just like you say I made Mother leave. But Mother left by choice. You had my friend banished. I never saw him again. Because of you.” “You think he deserved forgiveness? Your brother’s would-be murderer?” Rhian blasted. “He wouldn’t have rested until I was dead! I saw it in his eyes. Those hateful, violet eyes. He wanted you all to himself. Disgusting animal. Deserved what happened to him. And I never said you made Mother leave—” “Lies. More lies. I know what you think of me. The same thing she did. That I can’t love. That I’m a disgusting animal,” Japeth wept. “You were just waiting for an excuse to get rid of me. And now you found it in a girl. A girl you think loves you, when I can see the truth in her eyes. The truth that she wants you dead.” Japeth smeared at his face. “It’s the same way you and Mother looked at me.” “Don’t say things you can’t take back,” Rhian assailed. “You’re my brother. My family. I love you. And Mother loved you too. That’s why I’m bringing her back to life. For you. Because you want a second chance. Because we all want a second chance.” “Right,” said Japeth quietly. “Funny that.”

The tears stopped.

He raised his eyes, red-veined and raw.

“You assumed it would be her. All this time. But you never asked me who I would bring back to life with my wish. You just presumed. That she was the one I loved. That she was the one I wanted back. But that’s who you wanted back. Not me.” Rhian went cold. “What?”

“It was obvious if you just thought about it,” his brother said, fully composed now. “But you only think of me as something to be used. A liege, a henchman, who would get you a crown and also get you Mother back in the process. You made your wish into mine. But I wish for someone else. I’ve always wished for someone else.” Behind the door, Sophie paled. She’d understood. She knew who Japeth wished for.

“The only person who ever truly loved me,” said the snow-white twin. “The only person willing to kill for me. The only person I trust more than my own brother. My real family.” Rhian stepped back. “A-A-Aric?”

Sophie couldn’t breathe.

“And now you’ll help me bring him back, brother. Just like you promised,” the Snake said to Rhian, his gaze smoldering. “Right?” The king froze. His eyes darted to Excalibur on the table— “I’ll take that as a no,” said the Snake.

He went for the sword.

Rhian got there first. He grabbed Excalibur by the blade and swung the jeweled hilt, smashing the handle into his brother’s neck. Japeth crashed onto the night table, shattering the glass top, before scims rocketed off his black suit and pinned his brother to the wall, knocking Excalibur out of Rhian’s hand and onto the floor. Rhian tore at the scims with all his strength, ripping his body from the wall and bludgeoning eels with his fists, just before Japeth came swinging again. The two boys launched at each other wildly, punches and kicks landing with bone-crushing cracks, sprays of blood flying, before they locked arms viciously and hurled each other to the ground.

“You think I’d bring him back? To run rampant in my castle? My own death sentence?” Rhian snarled. “Never. Never!” Japeth bashed the king’s head against the wall. Rhian kneed him in the face— Sophie watched, her heart in a knot, the scene following the crystal’s script.

Only not quite.

Because in the crystal, she’d been in the room with them, cowering in plain sight.

Something tapped her shoulder. Sophie spun. Three eels screeched with discovery, snaring her in a tight collar and dragging her from the bathroom into the bedroom, throwing her into a corner.

Japeth jolted upon seeing her, his bloodied face contorting with rage, before he turned on his brother. “Halfway to Gillikin, I see.” Rhian gaped at Sophie. “But I . . . I didn’t . . . I . . .” Japeth pummeled him, spurting Rhian’s blood onto the Snake’s own face. “Thought you could kill me! Your own brother! Thought you could replace me with her!” Choking, spitting, the king flailed towards Sophie. “Call the guards! Now!” Sophie swiveled to the door, but the scims collaring her jumped off, re-forming into a thick spike before they bolted the doors to the chamber from inside. Sophie cowered against the wall, trapped. Trust the crystal, she told herself. Rhian would win in the end. And yet, he was losing now. . . . Should she help? Should she stay put? Had she missed something in the crystal’s scene? But she didn’t have the crystal to look at anymore. Nor did Evelyn’s dress intervene, suddenly dormant, as if it had never been alive at all.

Japeth seized the advantage, the king too weak to fend off his brother’s assault. The Snake savaged him with a punch to the eye, swelling Rhian’s face beyond recognition, sending the king crumpling to the ground, his crown knocked off his head.

Japeth stood up, breathing heavily, covered in blood.

Then his eyes went to Sophie.

He prowled towards her. Sophie blanched. This wasn’t in the crystal! This wasn’t in the script— Rhian snagged his twin by the ankle and pulled him to the ground. The king scraped to his feet and kicked his brother in the face, harder, harder, until the Snake wasn’t moving.

Rhian wheeled to Sophie, masked with blood. “I told you to leave. I told you,” he wheezed, staggering towards her. He reached a wounded palm and touched the wet blood on her cheek, her blood mixing with his. “Now look what you’ve don—” He stopped, his arm still in the air.

Because his hand was repairing before his and Sophie’s eyes.

Sophie’s blood snaked along the lines of Rhian’s palm, magically sealing up the open cuts, restoring his tan, perfect flesh.

Her blood was healing him.

The same way her blood had healed Japeth.

Slowly, Rhian and Sophie met eyes, both shell-shocked.

“Well, well,” said a glacial voice behind them.

Sophie and Rhian turned as Japeth rose from the ground, his face as bloodied as his brother’s, his hair matted tight against his skull. The Snake had Excalibur in one hand. With the other, he reached up and placed Camelot’s crown on his head.

“The pen said one of us would be king, the other healed by her blood,” the Snake spoke, leering at his brother. “But it never said which of us would wear the crown. It never said the elder. Two brothers. Two possible kings. And yet I let you be king. Not because I thought you deserved the crown. But because you promised me a wish. You promised to bring back the one person I loved. A love that is worth more to me than a crown. Ironic, isn’t it? The Good brother wishes for power. The Evil brother wishes for love. But that was the deal we made, bonded by a promise. A promise you no longer are willing to keep. So I propose a new deal. You can be the one healed by your new love’s blood. And I’ll be the king. A king with the power to fulfill your promise myself.” Japeth’s black suit of scims morphed into Rhian’s blue-and-gold suit. The king’s suit. One of the newly gilded scims flew off Japeth and, like a paintbrush, magically swept across Rhian and turned Rhian’s suit gold and blue. Japeth’s old liege’s suit.

The Snake grinned. “I like this arrangement better.” Rhian charged at him, ramming his head into Japeth’s chest, spraying the king’s crown into the wall and Excalibur onto the bed. The twins grappled for the sword, blood obscuring their faces, as the Snake magically transformed their suits, from blue to gold, gold to blue, back and forth, until Sophie couldn’t tell who was who anymore.

“Who’s the king, who’s the king,” Japeth chanted, their suits changing faster, their blood-covered hands straining for Excalibur, closer, closer . . .

Sophie suddenly questioned what she’d seen in the crystal. Two brothers dead. Herself, still standing. Had it been the truth? The real future? Or had it been a crystal of mind? A script of wishful thinking?

She couldn’t leave it to chance. Witches won wars themselves.

Lunging out of the corner, she dove for the sword— The king threw her out of the way, his blue-and-gold suit spattered red. Sophie rebounded, but she was too late. Rhian swiped the hilt into one hand, double-fisting with the other. His blade swung through the air, the edge catching the light like a sunflare— It impaled Japeth’s chest.

Clean through the heart.

Japeth closed his eyes in shock, stumbling backwards, his face slick with blood.

Rhian drew the sword out and his brother fell.

Sophie put a hand to her mouth, watching the scene play out as it had in the crystal. Only this time it was real, the smell of blood and sweat suffocating her.

Rhian kneeled over Japeth’s body, watching his twin take his last breath.

The king bowed his head, holding the Snake’s corpse.

Excalibur lay abandoned behind him.

Rhian didn’t see Sophie move from the corner.

The fear was gone from her face.

Replaced with intent.

She picked up the sword, her slippered feet creeping along the carpet.

Without a sound, she raised the sword over Rhian’s back.

Then she froze.

Rhian was crying.

Sobbing.

Like a little boy.

Crying for his dead brother.

Crying for his other half.

Something in Sophie’s heart stirred.

A bond of blood she understood.

“Rhian?” she whispered.

He didn’t look at her.

“You can bring him back,” Sophie breathed. “You can use the pen. You can bring him back to life.” His sobs went softer.

“Rhian?”

Then his cries changed. Louder, wilder, pealing through the silent room. Until Sophie realized they weren’t cries at all.

They were laughs.

He turned around, his ice-blue eyes slashing through her. As he stood, he wiped the blood off his face, revealing his milk-white skin.

A scream caught in Sophie’s throat.

“Not Rhian,” she choked.

Not Rhian!

Not Rhian!

“Oh?” said the Snake.

A gold scim floated off his king’s suit and sheared the wet, matted locks of his hair to a close-skulled crop. Then it stroked the Snake’s face like a pen, magically tanning him to a burnished amber.

“More Rhian than the real thing,” he smiled.

He stabbed a finger at the hovering scim and it shot through the window like a knife, surged into the sky, and inked a golden message against the slate of gray.

The wedding of King Rhian and Princess Sophie will take place as scheduled. . . .

Sophie dashed for the door, but it was still bolted by scims. She recoiled in horror, watching Japeth move towards her, his grin dark and unhinged.

Agatha!

Agatha, help me!

Sophie backed against a wall.

The Snake put his cold lips to her ear.

“Ready for a wedding?”

She belted him in the face and leapt for the sword, her hands finding the hilt— But the eels were already coming. As they speared into her ears from both sides, her consciousness fading, the last thing she thought of was her best friend, the other half of her soul, the Lion of her heart.