فصل 23

Chapter 23

AGATHA

Flesh and Blood

Past is Present and Present is Past.

The Snake.

Son of the School Master.

Son of Rafal.

Pure-blooded Evil.

Following them across time. Across death.

To the End of Ends.

No more time to think—

Agatha’s feet sank into softness, her eyes flying open to a fluorescing green cloud, Tedros landing on a green cloud above her. A black sky expanded around them, with a glossy sheen, as if its surface was wet. Stars pinned against this sky, not childish five-pointed stars but steel snowflakes, edges deadly sharp like a handblade’s, the center of each star a glowing green marble, like an all-seeing eye. In the stars’ dim light, Agatha glimpsed etchings in the black sky, like tree carvings, but Agatha couldn’t make them out, the darkness too thick.

“Help me up,” said Agatha, reaching for her prince.

“The Celestium,” Tedros surmised, hoisting her to his cloud. “Must be reflecting Merlin’s mood, wherever he is . . .” Except Agatha was on her toes now, shining her fingerglow at the sky’s carvings.

Agatha skin crawled. “No. Not Merlin’s.” She lit up the sky—

images

“Japeth & Aric.” Tedros shrank backwards. “Agatha . . . this is the Snake’s place to think.” “Rafal’s blood . . . ,” Agatha rasped. “Wizard’s blood . . .”

“Which means he knows we’re here,” her prince said. “He brought us here.” Panicked, they scanned the Snake Sky, but found only more glowing green clouds, razor-sharp stars, lovesick carvings.

A noise scuffed behind them and they whipped around—

Guinevere and Merlin appeared on a cloud.

“Big Mama!” Merlin piped, pointing at Guinevere.

Tedros’ mother stared down her son. “Told you that mirror was trouble, Tedros. Japeth must have known you went inside his secrets. Moment you did, Merlin felt Japeth’s spirit vanish to his thinking place. Luckily, wizards can access other wizards’ thinking spots.” “Tee Tee needs Big Mama . . . for big job . . . ,” Merlin said, winking at Tedros.

Agatha could see Tedros and his mother eyeing each other, as if they knew what Merlin meant. Whatever plan Tedros and his knights had made to defeat Japeth, the old queen was most certainly involved.

Powers, Agatha recalled. That’s what Tedros said he’d asked the genie for. That’s why he’d gone into the Cave of Wishes. What kind of powers?

“If this is Japeth’s thinking place, then where is he?” Tedros growled. “Watching us, no doubt, like the creep he is.” He bellowed to the sky. “You slithering fraud! Rhian really thought he was my dad’s son. But you? You knew the truth. You knew you were Rafal’s son with that witch—” “What?” a voice gasped.

Tedros and Agatha turned.

Sophie was alone on a cloud, her face ashen.

“Couldn’t remember if Tee Tee needs Big Mama or Not-the-Mama, so I bring both,” Merlin squeaked at Tedros.

Agatha was already leaping to Sophie’s cloud.

“I d-d-don’t understand,” Sophie spluttered in her friend’s arms. “Rafal’s son? Japeth is Rafal’s son? With Evelyn Sader?” Her eyes brimmed with horror. “RJ. Isn’t that what Dean Brunhilde called him? R for Rafal, J for Japeth . . . Rhian and Rafal . . . The names of twin School Masters, passed down from father to sons . . . That’s how he has wizard’s blood, isn’t it? . . . His eyes . . . they’re like his father’s . . . and that ice-cold touch . . . Oh, Aggie . . . The answers were there all along!” “That’s why you could heal them. That’s why they had to marry you,” Agatha said. “Because your blood gave Rafal’s blood power. The same way it gives power to his sons’.” “So they aren’t Arthur’s sons for sure?” Guinevere asked. “Then Arthur would have known Tedros was his only child. Why would he create a tournament giving an impostor a chance? Why would he risk his true heir?” Agatha and Tedros glanced at each other, still without an answer to the question they’d asked themselves.

“Mer Mer knows story,” the wizard offered. “Rafal old . . . ooga booga . . . then young . . . still ooga booga! . . . kiss Not-the-Mama . . . hurt Mama and Tee Tee . . . then Rafal die . . . then not die”—he mimicked stiff-armed zombies—“then die again. Now small Rafal. With snakes.” Tedros blinked at him.

“Yes, Merlin, small Rafal with snakes,” said Agatha, anxiously searching the sky. “Where is he, Tedros?” “Sophie’s scream hurt him badly. Maybe he can’t last up here,” Tedros guessed.

Sophie was still mewling: “Once upon a time, I wanted to marry a prince. Now I’m the bride of Father Evil and his two sons!” “You didn’t marry Rafal, you didn’t marry Rhian, and you haven’t married Japeth,” Agatha countered. “They all thought your blood was the one. But you’re not the one, because you’re here with us.” “And how long will ‘us’ last?” Sophie asked fatally. “He’s made us the villains. He’s turned the Woods against us. With no consequence.” “We are the consequence,” said Tedros. “The Storian believes in us. Our school believes in us. My father believed in us. That’s why I wear this ring. I’m his son. I’m the king. Not Rafal’s spawn. The only place scum like that can be king is in hell.” “Welcome to hell, then,” came the reply.

Dread snaked up Agatha’s spine.

Slowly, she and Tedros turned.

Japeth waited on a cloud in the sky.

He wore his blue-and-gold king’s suit, his sword strapped to his belt. His face was flecked with blood, his skin frayed at the edges, like a mask about to fall.

Tedros shot a spell, severing Japeth’s sword strap, the blade plunging into darkness. Japeth looked up to see the prince bullrushing him across clouds, Tedros’ fists raised— Japeth waved a hand, magically sweeping a cloud out from under him. The prince flailed, crashing to Sophie and Agatha’s cloud, knocking the two girls down.

Agatha lurched up, expecting the Snake to attack—

But Japeth hadn’t moved. “You cheat your way into my brother’s blood. You trespass into my secrets. You attack and hate, while I defend and fight for the one I love. So who’s Evil now? There is no limit to the wickedness you’ll do to win. Even raid my soul. Fitting, then, that you’ll all die inside it.” He paused. “But not quite yet.” He sat down on a glowing green cloud.

“You have most of it right, whatever that cheap mirror revealed,” said Japeth. “Rhian always believed King Arthur was our father, but I knew the truth about our parents. Because it was I who found the pen my father spoke of. I know: ‘Which pen?’ Now I’ll show you.” He set his sights on Sophie. “After our mother’s death, the Mistral Sisters brought us that dress you’re wearing. My mother’s dress.” Sophie’s white gown morphed to blue, birthing a thousand blue butterflies, matching the Dean’s signature gown. All at once, the butterflies flew off it, lighting up the Snake Sky with rich blue glow. They huddled like Wish Fish, their wings turning colors, the butterflies painting scenes in brilliant mosaic . . .

“The butterflies from Mother’s dress led us to the Garden of Good and Evil. An unmarked grave. There, the Mistrals said we would find Mother’s will.” The butterflies painted a grave and two copper-haired twins digging into it— “Instead, we found something quite unexpected . . .”

The grave opened, revealing dozens of metal slabs, long and thin, sharp at both ends, like knitting needles.

Agatha’s eyes widened.

Pens.

A grave full of them.

Identical to the Storian, but gold instead of silver. Each pen slightly different in size, shape, and carving.

“This is what our mother wanted us to have. Pens that once belonged to King Arthur, the Mistral Sisters explained. Mother and the Mistrals had become friends—the same sisters who came to advise King Arthur after Guinevere and Merlin left him. Arthur had turned to drink, his mind dulled and judgment soft. The Mistrals wormed into his court, telling him what he wanted to hear. That he wasn’t to blame for his queen leaving. That it was the Storian’s fault. That he was the fated One True King, born to take the Storian’s place . . . Overthrow the Pen, they urged. Claim its powers. Become the One True King. Then he could write destiny as he wanted it. Then he could bring Guinevere back to him! All he had to do was get the Woods behind a new pen. A rival Storian he would control. The King’s Pen. ‘Needs a better name,’ Arthur considered . . . ‘Lionsmane.’ Tedros might like that. And yet, when the Mistrals tried to bring ‘Lionsmane’ to life, Arthur rejected each pen made for him. Too thin. Too thick. Too pompous. Too humble. Looking for every excuse not to follow through.” More and more pens heaped into the skylit grave, Lionsmanes discarded.

“No matter how much he loved your mother, he wasn’t willing to destroy the Storian to have her back. A weak king. An even weaker man,” said Japeth.

Tedros snarled: “You, who pretended to be his son.”

“For good reason,” said Japeth, unfazed. “After Arthur drank himself into the grave, Rhian and I learned of our own mother’s death. Our mother had planned to tell us we were King Arthur’s sons once we came of age. But in the case of her death, she’d trusted the Mistrals to find us and give us her dress. The butterflies would tell us what we needed to know. Butterflies that had my mother’s spirit.” Across the Snake Sky, butterflies drew more scenes . . .

“These butterflies filled in her version of the story. How Arthur abandoned us. How to assume his throne. There would be steps to take. A carefully made plan. Sabotage Tedros, the false king. Pull Excalibur from the stone. Use Lionsmane to win the people and make leaders burn their rings. Marry the queen named Sophie, whose blood bonded with ours. Do these things—burn the rings and wed Sophie—and we would become the One True King. Immortal, invincible, with the power to bring Mother back to life . . . Only one brother could marry Sophie, of course. Only one could be king. But as long as Rhian and I loved each other, we could share the powers of Sophie’s blood. One of us made king by it. The other, magically healed by it. My mother’s dress would bind her and keep her loyal. All Rhian and I had to do was stick together. Two brothers, Lion and Eagle, against Tedros the Snake.” Japeth watched the butterflies in the sky. “Rhian believed every word. He loved my mother. He trusted her. He longed to have her back. But I didn’t. I knew she disowned us the day she dumped us at Arbed House. Because she wanted to be rid of me. Because she wanted to find our father and be with him instead . . . But King Arthur that father? Uptight, do-gooding Arthur with my viperous mother? Psssh. I didn’t trust her story one bit . . . In the shimmer of the butterflies’ wings, I began to glimpse secrets hidden in my mother’s spirit . . . a Green Knight who was Arthur’s brother . . . a plot to steal Arthur’s throne . . .” His blue eyes narrowed. “Then I saw it.” All the butterflies in the sky darkened except for one.

“The butterfly that the others were obeying. The leader amongst them. The butterfly that knew I’d found it out . . .” The butterfly fluttered down into Japeth’s hands. Cupped in his palm, the insect began to shrink and shrivel . . . black scales coating its body . . . until it was no longer a butterfly at all . . .

. . . but an eel.

It sharpened at both sides like a pen, its color coal-black.

The slimy pen floated out of Japeth’s hand and slipped into his ear.

“This pen told me the true story. King Arthur wasn’t our father at all. We were the School Master’s sons. Rafal’s sons. That’s why Sophie’s blood bonded with ours, like it did with our father’s. If I was hearing this message, then Rafal’s queen had killed him and likely my mother too. We must punish his queen. Follow my mother’s instructions, the pen said. Take Camelot and bring Mother back to life. That’s how we could avenge my mother and father. This pen would help me, made of my father’s spirit. This pen would be our weapon, more than any sword. But the pen warned: I must never let Rhian learn the truth about his father. He needed to believe he was King Arthur’s son. Because he was Good inside. And I was Evil. I must always put my brother first. That’s where Rafal had cursed himself. He’d killed his twin believing he would find truer love. Evil’s love. Only to be killed by that love in return. I couldn’t repeat my father’s story. I had to stay Rhian’s faithful liege to the end. That’s why my father left this message for me to find. So if Rafal failed to find true love, he could be redeemed by his son. Just as I suspect King Arthur left three tests for his son to redeem him.” The pen flew out of Japeth’s ear, a butterfly once more.

It landed on Tedros’ shoulder.

“Except my father miscalculated,” he said, rising to his feet. “Because he believed love for my brother would satisfy me. Our bloodline, ruling the Woods together. But it wasn’t enough for my father, was it? And it wasn’t for me. Because I found truer love too. Someone who cared for me more than my own blood ever did.” The ghost of Aric appeared in the sky, made out of butterflies. The butterfly on Tedros’ shoulder fluttered up and joined them, adding the violet sparkle to Aric’s eye.

“Strange that Tedros and I are enemies, when we share so much in common,” said Japeth, as the sharp-haired silhouette glided towards him. “Abandoned by our mothers. Our fathers destroyed by love. No wonder Tedros and I quest to find love for ourselves. Real love. But Tedros trusts the Storian with his fate. Fate which stole love from me, just like it did from Tedros’ father. But unlike Arthur, I won’t shrink from fixing fate’s mistakes. Soon I’ll be fate’s master, with the power to take love back.” Aric landed on his cloud and Japeth put his arms around him . . . Aric’s glowing outline crumbled, butterflies flying away.

Japeth was alone once more.

He smiled bitterly, his king’s suit blackening to eels. “But first there is a tournament to win,” the Snake said. “A last ring to burn.” His eyes shot to Agatha.

“Which means killing that.”

The Snake’s scims sharpened, about to attack—

The light in the sky went out.

Every hint of green glow swallowed by hard, flat black.

Agatha whirled around, expecting to be stabbed in the dark—

But then she noticed Tedros gone from her side. And she could still see the shine off Japeth’s suit, the Snake frozen on a higher cloud, like he’d been taken by surprise. Agatha held her breath, trying not to move. If he hadn’t put out the lights, then who? The glint of his eels rippled as if he was turning in place, hunting his prey. It was clear he couldn’t spot Agatha in her cloak. She was too far away, the sky too dark.

Agatha smelled silky fragrance as soft wings closed around her: Sophie, her once-white dress now turned to black feathers, lifting her friend from the cloud and silently flying her down to a lower one, farther away from Japeth. “The dress did it,” Sophie whispered in Agatha’s ear. “It killed the lights. So he couldn’t kill us. It’s helping me, Aggie. It’s been helping me.” The dress? Agatha thought. But Evelyn left it to bind Sophie to her sons. Why would it help Sophie?

“Tedros. Where is he?” Agatha whispered, unable to see in the dark.

“Thought he was with you,” said Sophie.

Agatha’s stomach knotted—

Tiny hands snatched the girls and yanked them into the cloud. Merlin was huddled in fluff, a finger to his lips. He poked a hole in the cloud so Agatha and Sophie could peek out.

For a moment, the Snake Sky was quiet.

Then the night ripped open, heavenly light pouring forth, radiant and gold.

A shadow appeared in the glow, an imposing silhouette.

Light caught his purple eyes, his ivory skin, the sharp barbs of his hair. He wore sleeveless red leather and black breeches, his legs and arms pumped with muscle.

Agatha broke into a cold sweat.

“Impossible,” Sophie breathed.

He was dead.

They’d seen him die.

But here he was.

As if he’d never died at all.

Agatha looked around for Tedros or Guinevere, but the sky was empty.

Just the Snake and the boy.

“Japeth?” the boy spoke, strapping and deep.

The Snake gave him a dead, chilly look, then continued to search the sky. “Cute trick, Merlin,” he called out, looking everywhere but at the boy. “A mimicking hex? Or transmutation?” Agatha glanced at the six-year-old between her and Sophie, nervously biting the end of his hat. The most Merlin could do was conjure shapes and play fleeting pranks. No way this was his spell.

“Or perhaps just good old-fashioned black magic,” said the Snake, his eyes pausing on Agatha and Sophie’s cloud.

“I thought you’d say that,” the boy replied, hopping smoothly from cloud to cloud until he reached the one across from Japeth’s. “That’s why I veiled our meeting from the others. They can’t see us and we can’t see them.” “Right. As if in addition to rising from the dead, you also acquired the power to enter a wizard’s thinking place without wizard blood,” Japeth mocked. His scims peeled off his suit and circled the boy menacingly. “No, I’d say you’re purely the figment of my enemies’ creation. Enemies who think I’ll engage a fake ghost.” “Well, I am a ghost. That is true. Thoroughly as dead as I was yesterday,” the boy acknowledged, petting the eels with no fear. “Which means I have the power to haunt where and how I choose, including a wizard’s thinking place. To be honest, I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Finally, Japeth looked at him. “Even sounds just like you.” His eels probed the boys’ muscles. “Feels like you too. Any idiot can fake a ghost. But to fake a dead boy in a real body . . . I have to say I’m impressed, Merlin. If it’s indeed you hiding under there. Or is it one of your friends who took on the task? Knew we should have killed the wizard when we could, precisely to put an end to his games. But Rhian thought if he could regress Merlin to a child, then he could remake his loyalties . . .” Scims pried the boys’ eyes open, assessing his purple irises. “Amazing work, really. Too bad I have to kill you to see who you really are. Maybe Sophie, now that I think about it. She does like to get too close to the fire.” His eels dropped to the boy’s throat, about to tear him apart— “Go ahead. I won’t feel a thing. I’m dead, remember?” said the boy, unruffled. “The moment you kill me—poof!—I’ll be gone forever and your enemies will be right where you left them, ready to fight. I hid them so I could help you, Japeth. So I could warn you what Tedros is about to do.” “I see,” Japeth said, suddenly amused. “And what secret plan have you managed to catch wind of? What is it that the idiot prince plans to do, hmm?” “Disguise himself as me,” the purple-eyed boy replied. “He went into the Cave of Wishes. The genie granted Tedros the power to turn into whoever he wants. The genie’s magic lives inside his blood long enough for Tedros to take on my body and warp your mind. To fool you and make you believe he’s the real thing. See, that’s him over there, waiting for his moment.” A spotlight appeared, on a second clone of the boy, posed atop a distant cloud, looking fidgety and anxious, before the spotlight abruptly went dark. The boy turned back to Japeth. “I wanted to be with you before Tedros tries. So you can remember what’s true.” Japeth’s grin lost its shape. “Let me get this straight: you will disappear and be replaced by a new you, who is Tedros in disguise. And that’s who I should kill.” He snorted, but it was half-hearted, the Snake increasingly wary of the boy. “Well, whatever magic he’s using, it can’t be better than what is in front of me.” “This isn’t magic,” the boy replied. “It’s me, Japeth. As me as a ghost can be.” The Snake inspected him closer, trying and failing to see through him.

“It isn’t you if you’re not flesh and blood,” Japeth taunted.

“Try me,” said the boy.

Japeth stared hard at him. Slowly, one of his scims moved from the boy’s throat up to his mouth . . . and pricked it with its tip. Blood seeped from the boy’s lips. He didn’t flinch.

Agatha’s eyes bulged.

So did the Snake’s. “You’re . . . you’re . . . real?”

“More real than the real thing,” said the boy.

Japeth’s face warmed with color. He leapt onto the boy’s cloud. “Aric?” He put his nose to Aric’s neck, inhaling his skin, touching his nose, his cheeks, before his arms clasped hard around the boy’s chest. “It’s you. Exactly you.” Tears flooded Japeth’s eyes.

From her hiding place, Agatha watched a murderous Snake embraced with a murderous savage, the two of them so close and bonded, their love almost . . . human. Emotion tickled her throat, which she instantly shoved down. She couldn’t let herself feel. Not for these two. Even her, with a heart so stubbornly Good.

“What’s happened to you?” Aric whispered, holding the Snake tight. “Changing yourself to look like Rhian. Pretending to be your own brother. The Japeth I know wouldn’t have done that. Kill Rhian, maybe. But not become him,” he smiled wryly. “Not lose wild, beautiful Japeth along the way.” “I did it for you,” Japeth said tensely. “Everything I’ve done is for you. To get you back.” “And then what? I have to be with ‘Rhian’ in my new life? And his terrible haircut and fake tan? I have to join your charade?” said Aric.

“I’ll tell the people the truth. About who I am. You’ll be my new liege—” “Ah yes. Japeth the Snake, who attacked their kingdoms, murdered his brother, and pretended to be his brother, now forgiven and welcomed as Camelot’s new king. More than that: the One True King, who controls all their lives with his new Pen. And oh, he’s bringing his love back from the dead with him, who just happens to be a boy.” “Then I’ll give up my crown—”

“They’ll kill you, Japeth. They’ll kill us both. I don’t want to be brought back to life, just to die a more ignoble death than I suffered the first time.” Japeth was shivering now. Utterly overwhelmed. “You don’t know what I’ve done for you. Are you really turning down the chance to come back to life? To have a second chance with me? It can’t end this way. With you just . . . leaving?” “This isn’t The End,” Aric promised. “But I’m at peace now. If you love me, Japeth, you’ll let me go. The time will come when we’ll be together again. But not like this. First you have to be who you are. Who you really are, not some Snake out to get revenge on my behalf. Surrender the crown that isn’t yours. Admit your deception to the people. Even if you’re punished for it. Even if Excalibur takes your head. Tell the truth and it will set both our souls free. We’ll be together forever, then . . . But fight too hard against fate and your spirit will never find mine. Because you can’t escape your fate, no matter what you want to believe. I learned that the hard way.” Japeth nestled into him. “Where was this Aric when you were alive? Who is thoughtful and loving? Who speaks so tenderly to me?” “Do what I tell you, dear Japeth,” Aric pressed. “Give us a second chance beyond this world. I’ll be waiting for you.” Japeth gripped his shirt. “No. Not yet. Please . . . stay with me.” “I don’t have that power, friend.”

“Then let me ask for one thing. Before you go.” Gently Japeth reached a hand to Aric’s gashed mouth, wiping away blood with his fingers. “The one thing I need from you to have peace.” “Anything you wish,” said Aric.

Japeth held his gaze. “Can I kiss you? Like we used to?”

Aric hesitated, taken aback. He stood straighter, his lips pressing together. “Oh.” He nodded with a smile. “Of course.” Japeth’s face sharpened. “Well, in that case . . .” He stepped back just as Aric leaned in. “Let me reconsider. Because we never kissed when you were alive. Your rule.” His fingers were shiny with Aric’s blood. “The real Aric would have known that. The real Aric was ashamed of our love. Which means you must not be Aric at all. You’re exactly what you warned me about. Tedros, with the power to turn into whoever you wish. And that second Aric over there was just a trick to make me believe what you were saying—your mother, I’d bet, from her bumbling pose. She must have the genie’s magic too, a decoy made to sell me your plan. So close, Tedros. So close to getting me to give up. Only one wrinkle in your plan, arrogant prince. I have your blood on my fingers. Your genie-hexed blood with shape-shifting powers . . .” The Snake bit his own lip, splitting it open. He licked his fingers, letting his and Aric’s blood mix.

“. . . and now that blood is in mine,” said Japeth.

Aric’s irises suddenly went blue—Tedros blue—the prince’s eyes bright with panic.

The Snake smiled at him. “Let the games begin.”

In his sky, the light snuffed out, like a door slammed shut.