فصل 27

Chapter 27

TEDROS

Ask the Lady

Tedros didn’t love teenage Merlin. After trekking two miles through snow, it had been time for another dose of the wizard’s aging potion, the span from twelve to thirteen condensed into a single drop. And thirteen-year-old Merlin was as imperious and grandiose as eighty-year-old Merlin but also a moody, pubescent know-it-all, despite seeming to know nothing that could be of use.

“Where are we going, Merlin? The Lady of the Lake already saw us,” said Agatha. “Clearly she doesn’t want to talk to us, let alone help.” “And she’s the only one who can let us out of this place,” Tedros added, using his hands and boots to turn more swords to dust, like a game of footie. “We’re trapped here, Merlin.” “Glad it was the witches who rescued me. You two would have given up at the first gust of wind,” Merlin replied, tossing pink lightning and clearing blades just as Tedros reached for another one. “I’m hungry again,” grumped the wizard boy. “No wonder Hansel and Gretel’s parents couldn’t keep food on the table. The kids probably ate it all, just like they did that witch’s house. Hat! Make me something with cheese!” “This is ridiculous, Merlin. You have to know where Dad hid Excalibur! It was you who helped August Sader leave clues for the first test!” Tedros said, light fading over the swordfields. “We saw your white stars in the Living Library. You gave Sader the stars’ magic—” “Because Professor Sader asked me for it,” Merlin snipped, munching on cheese-fried popcorn out of his hat, the boy’s scrawny frame snug in his purple suit.

Tedros waited for him to elaborate, but instead Merlin paused at a sword in the snow. The prince’s heart swelled hopefully, only to see the wizard pulling at his face in the blade’s reflection. “Wow. Young skin is so elastic.” “And Professor Sader didn’t tell you what he wanted your magic for?” Agatha said, exasperated.

“Yes, he told me every detail of Arthur’s tournament and I just enjoy the deadly consequences of not giving them to you,” Merlin huffed, with a loud burp. “Like I said, Arthur kept his second will hidden from me. For good reason. If he’d told me about a tournament to find his heir, I’d have asked why he doubted who his heir was in the first place. Clearly Arthur had secrets to keep. Secrets that Rafal and Evelyn Sader took advantage of.” “What about helping King Arthur see the future?” Agatha prodded. “His will said, ‘The future I have seen has many possibilities . . .’” “If I could see the future, do you think I would be here, decades younger than I’m supposed to be, battling my own hormones and your fruitless questions, instead of basking on the beaches of Samsara? Because that’s where I’d like to spend my future.” Merlin shoved his hat back on. “Once the work is done.” “When is that?” Tedros asked.

“With you, the work is never done,” snapped the wizard child.

That put an end to Tedros’ questions.

They waded into an oak glen, between more snow-buried swords, past the twin graves of Tedros’ father and Tedros’ knight, to the old Wish Fish pond.

“It’s frozen over,” said Agatha, knocking on the solid surface, the fish obscured by ice.

Tedros rankled. “Merlin, what are we doing here—”

But the young wizard was elbow-deep in his hat, rustling around, before gently extracting a single, perfect strawberry.

He laid it on the ice, seeded dimples catching the last rays of sun.

Tedros and Agatha exchanged glances. Before either could speak, a bony hand stabbed through the ice, snatching the strawberry and drawing it under. Two dark eyes glared through the hole at the boy wizard. Then they widened, recognizing him. Merlin winked. The Lady of the Lake held her stare . . . then vanished beneath, the ice resealing.

The prince and his friends were alone again, swords surrounding them, the snow hard and wet under their knees. Silence misted through the glen.

“So,” said Tedros. “That was helpf—”

By the time he finished his sentence, they were someplace else.

A WHITE STONE tunnel.

They’d magically reappeared between cold, cramped walls.

“I know this place. It’s her castle,” Agatha remembered. “Sophie and I were trapped here once.” Tedros had never been inside the Lady of the Lake’s lair. Neither had Merlin, from the way the boy was probing around the tunnel. The few times Tedros had seen the castle within Avalon’s gates, he’d taken note of its smooth white stone, laced with vines of bright green apples, the castle free from any doors or openings. Only the Lady could grant permission to enter. Yet the Lady was nowhere to be found.

“Which way do we go?” said Tedros.

They were at a fork in the passage. Four routes they could take.

“This way,” said Merlin, crouching on the floor.

Agatha shined her fingerglow where he was pointing.

Strawberry juice, dripping to the east.

They followed the trail down a maze of damp, chilly corridors, halting at a dead-end wall. Only it wasn’t a dead end, Tedros saw now. The wall had been propped open like a hidden door, smoky light spilling through.

Agatha took a deep breath, as if she knew precisely where they’d been led. Tedros and Merlin followed her inside.

The Lady of the Lake was crouched against the wide rim of a cave, opening to a view of Avalon’s coast. Swords dotted these snow-soaked shores, the sunset glow of Lionsmane’s message reflected in the Savage Sea. The Lady watched the waves, her hands under her chin, her thighs drawn to her chest. White coils of hair matted her skull, her face a shriveled mask.

“Every king or queen who wanted something from me brought me gold and silks and the rarest of jewels. But not you, Merlin. All those years ago. You brought me a strawberry. Me, the Woods’ most powerful sorceress, who lives on the dew of the wind.” The young wizard smiled. “Just because you don’t need something to live—”

“—doesn’t mean it’s not worth tasting,” the Lady finished, turning to him. “How bold you were. I thought you’d come to set me free. To love me for who I am, instead of what I can give. One kiss was all I asked, a kiss of true love . . . But you too wanted something. You asked that I watch over your young ward who had become king. That I help Arthur if he came to me for protection.” She took in the wizard’s moppy hair and rosy cheeks. “But now look at you. Younger than even that king was, with your old wisdom intact. However you’ve managed it . . . I’d make a deal with that devil.” “You already have. The same devil who kissed you and stole your magic,” the boy wizard cut back. “He is responsible for what I am now. And you know full well, Nimue.” Merlin glared through her. “Any deal made with that devil must be undone.” Nimue. It was the first time Tedros had heard the Lady of the Lake called by a name.

She returned a fake, rotted smile. “I can’t undo anything, remember? No magic. A few powers are still left, of course. I am a born sorceress, after all. Until I use my Wizard Wish and take leave of this world. That day is coming . . . ‘Til then, I have nothing to help you or anyone else. It’s a relief. No more visitors asking to see the future. No princes and wizards lurking in my realm to get something from me.” “That’s not why we’re here—” Tedros said.

“Liar,” the Lady flamed. “You want to find the sword. The sword I made for your father. The sword he left for a king. And you want to know if you are that king. Except I cannot tell you, dear prince. The future I showed your father has many possibilities. But only that. Possibilities. The rest is your fate to find out.” Tedros’ legs jellied. He could hear Agatha holding her breath. Merlin, too, looked startled.

“Possibilities,” said Tedros carefully. “Possibilities you showed my father.” The Lady gazed out at the herd of red-orange clouds. “When I looked into your father’s eyes, I saw a kindred soul. A soul blessed with great power and yet hungering for real love. At first, I thought he might be the one to set me free. But just as Aladdin saw a genie only as a path to a throne, Arthur saw me only as a means to protect his. But I believed in Arthur’s goodness. It’s why I gave him Excalibur, so that he could defeat any enemy from the outside. Little did I know the true enemies in Arthur’s life would come from within.” She paused, the sun sliding deeper into the sea.

“One evening, after Guinevere and Merlin had deserted him, he came to me, looking nothing like himself. His hair was wild, his eyes frenzied, his breath smelling of drink. He’d made a mistake, he told me. A mistake long ago that he thought had no consequences. But someone had come to his court who’d suggested otherwise . . . a Green Knight who Arthur then killed . . . Even so, Arthur was afraid others might know what the Knight did. That Arthur’s secret would come to light and destroy not only him but his kingdom and those he loved. He needed to see what would happen. He needed to see the future, so that he could fend off any harm that might be done . . . He’d already gone to the School for Good and Evil, to his friend August Sader, but a seer like Sader cannot answer questions of what is to come, not without losing decades of life as punishment. Desperate, Arthur went to the School Master too, asking if the famed wizard had a spell or a crystal ball that might reveal the future. The School Master offered no answers and yet seemed amused, Arthur recalled, as if he knew precisely what disturbed the king . . . But then, Arthur noticed the Storian behind the School Master’s back. The Storian that was telling King Arthur’s tale at the time—a pen that Arthur and his new advisors believed responsible for the downturns in the king’s fate. Indeed, Arthur had been considering ousting the Storian and taking its powers for himself as One True King. Except now the enchanted pen was writing something behind the School Master’s back . . . something only the king could see . . . ‘Ask the Lady.’ By the time the School Master had turned, the words had vanished. Arthur was stunned, of course. The Storian doesn’t address the reader. The Storian doesn’t jump ahead. And yet, now it had, as if the story was trying to lead him . . . So he came to me, just as the Pen told him, asking to see the future. I didn’t question the Storian’s orders; I knew the Pen did not write out of turn without good reason. I pulled an apple from my breast, greenest of greens, and told the king any question he asked would be answered with a bite. I am not a seer, of course. But the Storian knew my power: to see all the routes a story might take, like an eagle from above . . . Arthur spoke his question out loud: ‘Who will have my throne?’ He bit into my apple. The future flashed through his mind. All the futures. All the possible answers to his question, like a wizard tree bloomed from a single fruit, his eyes filling with surprise, regret, terror . . . and hope. That is what I remember most. That delicate look in his eyes, two gleaming pearls of hope.” Tedros’ throat had gone dry. It was Agatha who managed words first: “You both knew all of this would happen?” “Could happen,” the Lady replied. “That’s why Arthur made a tournament. That’s why I kissed the king I did. Both of us wanted to make sure the right king ended up on the throne.” Her face clouded, light emptying in the cave. “But the future we saw had other possibilities, too. Futures we each thought we could escape. But that was our biggest mistake. Believing we could choose our fate. Because fate’s web is as vast as it is inescapable . . .” She hunched deeper into her ball.

“Nimue,” Merlin spoke, low and urgent, “but surely you know where the real sword is?” “You made Excalibur. It’s your magic,” Tedros pressured.

“You can save Tedros,” said Agatha fervently. “You can save all of us.”

The Lady of the Lake didn’t look at them. High above the snow, her eyes remained on the blades swept over her realm, each a copy of the one she forged for a king long ago. Tears dotted her eyes, her gaunt fingers trembling. Finally, she turned, half-shadowed.

“Why would you come to me? Asking me to save a king? When I failed the first time?” Tedros didn’t understand at first. But then he saw the look on her face. The same look he’d seen inside a crystal ball. It happened that last time they were in Avalon . . . He and Agatha had gone into the Lady’s memories. They’d seen the Lady kiss the Snake, as Chaddick lay dead on the shore. Tedros watched the Lady with Japeth, her face blushed with love. But as her and Japeth’s lips parted, her eyes gazing into his, her face changed. Love turned to fear, panic, guilt as if she knew she’d done something wrong . . .

Sweat trickled down Tedros’ back.

The question isn’t who helped Arthur see the future, Hort had warned. The question is whether that person is on your side.

“You made a mistake,” Tedros addressed the Lady. “The king you kissed. You knew it after you kissed him. You knew he wasn’t Arthur’s blood. I saw it in your face.” Merlin bristled. “This is Nimue we’re talking about, not some woeful first year at school. She is Good’s most reliable protector. The Woods’ greatest sorceress. She wouldn’t smell Arthur’s blood for nothin—” He swallowed his words. The wizard’s young eyes shuddered. “Unless . . .” Agatha looked right at Merlin, as if she was in his head. “Unless,” she said softly.

“Unless what?” Tedros said, glancing between them.

The Lady curled her face into her hands. Outside, rain began to fall in hard, punishing drops, like tears from the sky. Darkness amassed over Avalon, Lionsmane’s golden appeal for a sword the only source of light.

“What is it?” Tedros asked Agatha.

She didn’t look at him.

“Tell me!” Tedros demanded.

“Two boys.” Agatha met his eyes, her voice sick. “There were two boys that day on the shore.” Tedros’ heart stopped.

Chaddick.

His knight had tracked the Snake to Avalon. He’d ignored all summons to come home, believing he could kill the Snake on his own. Instead, the Snake had attacked him, trailing his blood across the Lady’s realm. Chaddick limped to the Lady’s shores, screaming for help, begging her to save him from the Snake . . .

She didn’t.

She chose the Snake instead.

The Lady sobbed into her hands. “I smelled Arthur’s blood in both boys. But one had an aura of magic, an overwhelming beauty. He promised me love, freedom, everything I wished. Your friend offered me nothing. He wanted only to protect you. The choice was obvious, of course. The beautiful boy was a trap. Your friend was the one to be saved. Except then I remembered the future I’d shown Arthur. All the futures. And in one of those futures, I’d made the wrong choice. I saved the wrong boy, bringing a snake into the Woods. I couldn’t let that happen! And yet, I didn’t know which boy was that snake. An eagle on high has no view to the details, only the possible paths. I had to make a choice. Fears overwhelmed me. Fear of making the wrong choice . . . fear of being tempted by love and yet also giving up my chance at it . . . My heart and head were at war, time against me . . . So I changed course. I chose to save the boy who promised love. Even if it went against my instincts. You understand, don’t you? I tried to do the right thing. I tried to avoid the fate we are living now. But in doing so, I only ensured it.” She shrank deeper into the shadows. “He took my magic, left me like this . . . It’s the punishment I deserved. The true blood of Arthur was dead. He was dead. Because of me, who was supposed to be his loyal guardian.” “I—I—I don’t understand. What does Chaddick have to do with Arthur’s blood?” Tedros questioned, his palms wet.

“That’s why I haven’t used my Wizard Wish,” the Lady wept. “Because I couldn’t leave this life . . . not until someone knew the truth . . .” “Chaddick was my knight. My schoolmate,” said Tedros. “He had nothing to do with my father—” “I did what I could to atone. I buried him near Arthur. Where he should be . . .” “What? You’re not making sense—” Tedros fought, his chest throttling.

“Two kings, side by side,” the Lady mourned.

Tedros choked, “What are you saying—”

“He’s the heir, Tedros.”

Agatha’s voice hit like a stone.

“Chaddick was your father’s heir,” said his princess.

Tedros shook his head. “But . . . that’s . . . that’s not true,” he rasped, appealing to Merlin.

The young wizard’s gaze was far away. “It’s how Rhian pulled Excalibur, isn’t it? Japeth knew Chaddick was Arthur’s heir. He must have hidden a drop of Chaddick’s blood on Rhian. And Excalibur sensed this blood of Arthur’s son, his eldest son . . . That’s why the sword let Rhian take it from the stone. That’s why it denied Tedros all those months before the Snake appeared. Chaddick was still alive then. Tedros wasn’t the king.” “That age potion’s warping your brain,” Tedros assailed. “You’re talking in riddles—” But his words trailed off, a memory floating back.

One he’d seen in a crystal of time.

It came from the day Chaddick left to find knights for Tedros’ Round Table. Chaddick had stayed at Camelot in the week prior, Lady Gremlaine fussing and doting over him, far more than she ever did over Tedros or Agatha, as if Chaddick were the lord of the castle. While Chaddick readied his horse for the journey, Lady Gremlaine piled him with satchels with food, brushed his gray shirt which she’d had made for him that matched his eyes, a gold C on its collar, and again and again, she hovered over him, asking what else he needed. Agatha had remarked that it was only around Chaddick that she’d ever seen Lady Gremlaine smile.

Now Tedros knew why.

He was her son.

Chaddick was Lady Gremlaine’s son.

And King Arthur his father.

A secret conceived in Sherwood Forest the night before Arthur married.

A secret Rafal and Evelyn Sader came to know.

Tedros was never Arthur’s eldest.

Chaddick was.

The true heir to the throne.

Tedros looked at his hand. The carved silver ring cold on his finger. His voice was a whisper: “Dad gave it to me. Why?” “For the same reason he made the tournament. He saw the future and all its possibilities,” said the Lady. Her tears had ceased. Behind her, the rain abated over Avalon’s shores. She turned to Tedros, a light growing in her eyes. “And despite all the darkness in that future, he saw one hope. That hope was you becoming king. Not Chaddick. Not anyone else. You. Because it’s you who were the Lion. Only you who could have had the strength and will to rise out of the ashes of Arthur’s mistakes and build a better Woods. It’s why Arthur didn’t fight death when it came for him. His story was the beginning of yours and your story the completion of his. Father and Son. King and King. Two fates intertwined. The true End of Ends. This was the future Arthur believed in. And he was willing to bet everything on that future.” In the glow of Lionsmane’s message, she looked at him like a flame against the night. “But now it’s your turn, Tedros. You must finish the last test. Excalibur didn’t see a king in you before. Will it see one now?” Tedros walled off his feelings like a knight shielding dragon fire: a blast of rage, horror, shame, all the emotions of his father not being the father he knew, his liege now his brother, the throne he believed so rightfully his not his at all. But in the siege of these feelings, he sensed another wave, light and cool, washing them all away.

Relief.

As if at last he had the answer to what made a king. Not blood. Not birthright. But something deeper: faith. Faith his father had in him. Faith Tedros never had in himself. Until now. Because he was a better man than his father, loyal to his princess, loyal to his heart. Because he’d be a better king, having chosen not the queen who would compensate for his shortcomings, but would love him for them. Because of who he was deep in his soul, rather than what he thought should be. He was free. Finally free. As if in being told he wasn’t a king, he found the reason to be a king.

His blood burned hot. The veins of his neck throbbed, a roar licking at his throat. He raised his eyes to the Lady.

“I’m ready.”

Agatha’s hand wrapped around his, the princess at his side. Young Merlin flanked the prince, his hand on his back.

The Lady smiled at Tedros, an inscrutable smile like the Lady of old . . .

Suddenly the glow on her face darkened, like a candle blown out.

She spun to the night sky—

Lionsmane’s message.

It was gone.

For a moment, no one seemed to understand.

But the prince did.

His blue eyes knifed the dark.

“He’s found it.”