فصل 8

Chapter 8

AGATHA

Wizard Wish

Behind the curtains and rope, a crew of beavers in blue overalls and yellow hard hats sat on a white floor, alternately passed out or eating ham sandwiches.

Most of the massive East Wing had already been dismantled—busts of Arthur bagged up, tapestries folded away, exhibit walls stripped. All that was left were stenciled plaques: ARTHUR’S ROUND TABLE, THE WEDDING TO GUINEVERE, THE BABY TEDROS . . .

But now Agatha spotted two more beavers ahead, standing on ladders, paint buckets in hand.

“Oh no,” she breathed. Tedros followed her eyes to the workers, repainting stencils— RHIAN’S RISE

THE FOUR POINT RESCUE

THE DEATH OF THE SNAKE

Beneath the ladders, busts of Rhian lay wrapped in tissue and bronze Lion heads waited to be hung up, along with painted scenes from the new king’s coronation, his claiming of Excalibur, his battle with the Snake.

More hammering detonated and Agatha craned up to see the first team of beavers off their lunch break, walloping at the marquee over Arthur’s archive, poised to replace it with a new one.

SON OF ARTHUR: A NEW LION RISES

A Tribute to King Rhian of Camelot

Dust and paint flakes rained down on Agatha’s and Tedros’ heads. Wary of being spotted, Agatha tried to pull her prince back towards the stairs, but Tedros wouldn’t move, his big blue eyes scanning the ruins of his father’s archive: portraits strewn, relics dumped in a pile, histories whitewashed over, soon to be replaced with those of his rival.

“You heard the goat. King of Pifflepaff Hills ordered this renovation,” said Tedros. “Sucking up to Camelot to earn a king’s favor. Same reason he burned his ring. Same reason the others did too. They’re all sheep now.” The prince’s face reddened. “Dad built his archive here so it’d be safe. Merlin told him to keep it in the Gallery of Good at school, like Merlin’s own relics, but Dad thought the school was more vulnerable; that no one would ever desecrate the Living Library . . . let alone in the name of his ‘son’ . . .” He looked at Agatha. “We’re too late. Whatever clues he might have left for us . . . they’re gone.” But Agatha was squinting down a dark corridor, away from the beavers.

“What is it?” Tedros asked.

She moved into the hall, ears piqued, eyes narrowing.

With every step, the sound grew louder.

The sound of an unmistakable voice.

A voice she knew as well as her prince’s or best friend’s.

“The Green Knight came on a Sunday, stalking into the Woods and heading straight for King Arthur’s castle—” The voice glitched, resuming a second later.

“’I’ll make you a deal,’ said the knight to the king—” Again the voice glitched.

It was coming from behind a black wall, the surface shiny and smooth, painted with white letters.

ARTHUR AND THE GREEN KNIGHT

With Tedros close behind, Agatha entered the black-painted room, the walls covered in fluorescing green, five-pointed stars, each studded with small silver dots.

Agatha recognized these dots. They’d blanketed her history textbooks at school instead of words . . . her favorite professor’s way of making the past come alive . . .

She counted twenty dot-covered stars on the walls now, with a painted numeral next to each one, ordering them in sequence. “START HERE!” it said near the first.

Meanwhile, two beavers in hard hats were ripping the stars off the wall, their paws activating Professor Sader’s narration.

“Arthur launched from his throne and—”

“The sword came down upon—”

“It was a poor decision—”

The beavers dumped more stars in their filthy bucket.

Agatha blushed with fury. She’d already had enough of this sexist kingdom and now these idiots were trashing the clues to Tedros’ first test! She charged the beavers, Tedros scrambling too late to stop her— “You dead-eyed, half-brained fur puppets!” she barked, shoving them. “Go away!” The two beavers froze, as if no human had ever touched them before. They gave Agatha pursed looks, their noses twitching. One squeezed the Lion badge on his overalls, which flashed gold, before he whispered something into it. Then the beavers went back to stripping stars.

“We need to leave,” Tedros warned, pulling Agatha away— Then they heard a yelp.

The beavers were stuck on the last star, the only one left on the bare black walls. But the harder they pawed at it, the more stubbornly it remained, spewing a few bright sparks, which singed the beavers’ fur. Only there was something else happening, Agatha realized: the more they jostled the star, the more its green surface rubbed off, the silver dots shedding, revealing a glowing white star beneath.

Agatha’s heart jolted.

That star.

It looks just like . . .

With twin growls, the beavers yanked the star as hard as they could. It exploded with sizzling currents, shocking both rodents to the floor.

Tedros gawked at the comatose beavers, then at the lone white star on the wall. “Is that . . .” “Only one way to find out,” said Agatha, holding her breath.

Down the hall, bootsteps rose, along with the sound of voices.

Human voices.

Quickly, Agatha tugged Tedros to the wall, feeling his chest pound under her grip. If the star was Merlin’s, it could hold answers. If it wasn’t, then they’d be drooling on the ground with the beavers. Agatha didn’t know which outcome to bet on. But she knew one thing for sure: it was worth the chance.

Agatha blinked at her prince. “Ready?”

“Ready,” said Tedros.

Both of them thrust hands at the star, slamming their palms against it— The star went dark.

Instantly the room’s walls hopped forward as if they were alive, the black slabs bounding closer, closer, until they pinned to the couple’s fronts, backs, sides, sealing them in like a coffin. Agatha felt the cold stone on her nose and bum, her prince’s sweaty arm jammed against hers.

“What’s happening?” Tedros choked.

The black box upended at lightning speed, knocking them off their feet. It happened so fast Agatha swallowed a scream, the box flipping ninety degrees, leaving her and her prince flat on their spines, the top wall still pinned to their faces.

All of a sudden, the white star reappeared deep in the darkness over their heads, like a light down a tunnel, as if the star was somehow beaming from beyond dimension.

A voice echoed, calm and clear.

“Hello, Tedros. Hello, Agatha. If you’re hearing me now, then you’ve already come a long way. It must be strange to hear your old Professor Sader from beyond the grave, but I assure you it is just as odd for me. Because it is not I who knew you might be hearing this message. As I once told you, I cannot see your future beyond your time at school. In my mind’s eye, your fairy tale ends the night Rafal comes for your heads. My sight offers me no further clues as to whether you survive the encounter or what becomes of you.

Instead, it is King Arthur who believes your story will continue long after I’m gone, to a time when Tedros must prove his claim to Camelot’s throne. And in pursuit of this proof, you will come here, to this very room, searching for answers to his father’s history. Answers the public do not know and which I do not have permission to share with them. Indeed, this particular exhibit in Arthur’s archive remains woefully incomplete. As with most fairy tales, the people will only know the beginnings of the tale of Arthur and the Green Knight.

But not you. You will learn more. You must know the full story.

This was Arthur’s dying wish to me: that I leave you these answers in a way that only you could find. Since Merlin is as much a part of this story as the king, I turned to the wizard for help in hiding what I have to tell you; it is his magic that allows me to be here with you now.

Before Arthur died, I asked him why he wouldn’t tell Tedros the story himself. The king replied that his son should learn the facts from someone he trusted. Facts Tedros didn’t care to hear from his father. And yet, I suspect there is another reason the king wanted me to tell this story instead of him. Arthur knew that history should not be conveyed by its participants. Man is too emotional, too bound to his ego. Truth only comes with perspective and time.

With the blessing of both wizard and king, then, it is I who will give you the answers you seek. So lie back, clear your mind, and witness the Tale of Arthur and the Green Knight . . .” In darkness, a phantom history appeared, like one of Professor Sader’s textbooks come to life. As the prince and princess floated, a lush forest appeared around them, occupying every dimension, at once richly detailed and yet porous, like a simulation of reality that hadn’t entirely been filled in. Trampling through this forest came a tall, mountainous man with bright green skin, the color of young grass or a garden snake. The Green Knight had big black eyes, a high, smooth forehead, and a thick, dark beard that matched the wavy hair on his head. Veiny muscles bulged from his bare green chest and tight green breeches. A gold-plated axe hung from his belt.

“By now, you know the beginnings,” Professor Sader’s voice narrated, “about the mysterious Green Knight who appeared in the Woods and made his way to Camelot, insisting on a private meeting with its king. Arthur was not in the practice of humoring nameless strangers—especially demanding ones with axes—but the Green Knight had arrived only a few days after Guinevere had abandoned the king for his best friend. That the Green Knight would come so soon after the queen’s disappearance couldn’t be a coincidence . . .” The scene evaporated, replaced with King Arthur’s throne room. There were no guards or advisors or members of the court. The king had honored the knight’s request to meet alone, with Arthur now hunched on his gold throne, his bloodshot eyes creased with wrinkles, his gray-flecked hair unkempt. There were crumbs in his beard, stains on the collar of his robes. Excalibur leaned against the throne, mottled and dull. Agatha was reminded of the way Tedros once looked when she’d tried to end their relationship and pair him off with Sophie. Her prince had disappeared for days, returning with this same childlike stupor, as if both he and his father were truly alive only when they had the security of love. And just like Tedros had welcomed Agatha when he thought he might get her back—bone-tired, but renewed—now his father looked down at his green guest the same way.

“Do you know where she is?” Arthur asked, breathless. “Take me to her at once . . . I’ll pay you any price . . .” The Green Knight seemed bemused. “Most kings would be suspicious of a green stranger. Especially the Lion of Camelot, whose kingdom is founded upon his victory over a Snake. But instead, the mighty Arthur asks me for help, convinced I’m a friend.” He peered harder at the king. “You don’t remember me, do you?” “Quite sure I’d remember a green hulk of a man,” said Arthur swiftly. “If you are indeed man and not monster.” “More man than most kings, I’d say,” the knight replied, his stare unwavering. “As to your question, let’s say I could find your wife. How would that change anything? Would that make her love you? Would that make her come running back to your side?” Arthur didn’t know what to make of this.

“Poor Lion. It won’t be long before you call me a Snake,” the Green Knight spoke. “But just remember: the real Snake was in your bed.” The king’s eyes flickered. “Why have you come here, then?” “To gain your permission,” the Green Knight replied.

“My permission for what?”

“To kill Merlin,” said the knight.

The answer was so unexpected that Agatha let out a shocked laugh—a laugh that the king himself echoed, rocking forward on his throne.

Then he saw the knight was serious.

“May I ask why?” said the king.

“May I ask why you couldn’t keep your wife?” said the knight.

Arthur’s mood darkened. “You have three seconds to be out of my sight.” “No, that’s not how this goes,” the Green Knight said. “If I leave now, I will punish your realms and inflict terror like you have never known until you beg me back, seeking a deal. The same deal I will offer you today. If you wish to spare your people, I suggest you take it.” Arthur looked startled that this creature was now issuing him orders.

“The terms are simple,” said the Green Knight. “You may strike me a single blow with your sword. Right here. Right now. And in exchange, I will return tomorrow and give the same blow to Merlin.” “If I give you a blow, you won’t be returning anywhere tomorrow,” Arthur spat, launching to his feet.

“A true king would do more than boast,” the Green Knight taunted.

“You want a blow, do you?” Arthur sneered, drawing Excalibur. “As you wish.” From the throne’s platform, he pointed the sword down at the knight. “You are lucky there are steps between us. I am offering you mercy, insolent cur. I suggest you take it.” “I see,” the knight spoke. “You don’t think my terms are real. So lost in arrogance you ignore the threat in front of you. So insulated from your people you’d let a Snake run free, because you’re too cowardly to strike the blow. Actions have consequences, Your Highness. Non-action has consequences as well.” Agatha could see Tedros from the corner of her eye, his cheeks red, his jaw clenched. This was the same charge people leveled at him. The same trap that gave rise to the new Snake that imperiled him now.

“I’m giving you the right to strike me,” the knight reminded. “It is also your right to turn a blind eye, of course. To let me leave and wreak havoc in your name. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just as I’m sure your wife warned she didn’t love you and you turned a blind eye to that too.” Arthur lowered his sword. Blood flushed his face. He steamed hot through his nostrils. “You know nothing of my wife.” “I know more than you do, it seems,” said the knight. “You’re the one who still thinks you can get her back.” Agatha could see the king racked with tension, fighting to resist the bait.

“Get out,” Arthur seethed. “Get out now.”

“Pity your young wart of a son,” said the knight.

“Don’t talk about my son—” Arthur lashed.

“Mother gone. Father weak . . .” the Green Knight jabbed. “Brother hidden away.” The king went dead cold.

So did Tedros next to Agatha.

“What did you say?” his father breathed.

The knight grinned back. “Long live the true heir. Long live the king.” “You snake,” Arthur hissed, already moving. “You LIAR!” He slashed down the stairs, robes aflight, like a murderous angel, his sword sweeping up over his head. With a primal roar, he swung it through the shadows, catching a last glint of sun— It cut clean through the Green Knight’s neck.

Agatha and Tedros froze, watching the green head roll across the carpet, waiting for the slain knight’s body to fall . . .

But then something strange happened.

Something that made Arthur drop his blade in shock.

The knight’s body didn’t fall.

Instead, it ambled a few steps backwards, picked up the severed head, and tucked it under his arm.

“Same time tomorrow,” the knight’s head spoke. “Bring Merlin.” Then he strolled out of the throne room, head in hand, leaving Arthur stunned and alone.

The scene faded to darkness.

Slowly Agatha looked at Tedros, who was staring into the void, rock still.

“His head,” she croaked. “How do you live with no head?” But her prince had something else on his mind. “Doesn’t make sense,” he said, shaken. “Dad gave me the ring because I’m the heir.” Tedros turned to Agatha. “So why did the Green Knight imply that I’m not?” “The knight lied,” Agatha argued. “You heard your dad—” But Professor Sader’s voice had returned, a new panorama filling in.

“Needless to say, the king had no intention of delivering his wizard to the knight and blocked the entrance to his castle with a thousand guards. Yet, to the Green Knight, he and the king had made a deal. The king had taken his cut; now it was the knight’s turn to strike Merlin. And as long as Arthur refused to honor these terms, then his people would pay the price.” Around Tedros and Agatha spawned a montage of destruction: the Green Knight, head restored, setting fire to castles and carriages; slashing through armies with his axe; launching avalanches to crush villages; terrorizing the streets of kingdoms, Good and Evil. Every arrow that pierced his green chest, every sword that drew blood, he easily swatted away, his skin healing instantly, his force invincible. Mobs gathered in Camelot’s square and at the castle gates, jeering the blockade of guards, shouting slurs at Arthur, demanding the king come out and kill this green monster.

Instantly Agatha was reminded of Japeth and his brother, slithering into the Woods and terrorizing the people to turn them against Tedros. They had succeeded just as the Green Knight had.

“Past is Present and Present is Past,” the Snake’s brother once said. “The story goes round and round again.” Coincidence? Agatha wondered. Or did Rhian and Japeth have ties to the Green Knight? Ties that made this first test as significant to Japeth as it was to Tedros? Was the Green Knight the key to solving who Rhian and Japeth really were?

But now the scene in the black box was changing: this time, to King Arthur’s chambers, as the king stood at his window, watching smoke rise over distant kingdoms, along with the protests at his castle gates.

“Should have let him have me,” said a voice.

Arthur turned to find Merlin at the door, the wizard in his purple cape, dented cone hat, and violet slippers, his long, thick beard scragglier than ever.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Arthur, turning back around.

“A deal is a deal,” said Merlin.

“Our knights are having no luck against him,” Arthur confessed stiffly. “Then again, Lancelot left them in quite a state. Gone without warning: their captain revealed to be a traitor, adulterer, deserter. No wonder they can’t find the strength to take down this green fool. I’ll have to ride into battle against him myself.” “You’ll die and he’ll have me in any case,” Merlin replied.

The king said nothing for a moment.

“Why does he want to kill you?” Arthur asked.

“We have history,” the wizard answered.

“What kind of history?”

“Personal history.”

Arthur kept his eyes out the window.

“He believes I owe him something,” the wizard sighed. “Something he can only take if I’m dead.” “And what is that thing? What is it that he wants?” “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

Arthur whirled around. “I am inflicting pain on the whole of the Woods, in your name, and you can’t tell me?” “What I can tell you is to stop your martyrdom and deliver me as agreed,” said Merlin. “This is between me and the knight.” “Then go, you doddering prat!” Arthur exploded. “Go like Gwen did! Go like Lance! You and your personal history. Settle your business without me!” “I would have done that from the beginning, but he made the deal with you,” Merlin answered. “You must deliver me. Or his terror will not stop.” “Why am I a part of this? This has nothing do with me!” Arthur assailed. “He’s acting like I should remember him. Like I should know who he is.” “Do you?” Merlin asked.

“Clearly not!” the king snapped. “So why me? Why do I have to deliver you?” “Isn’t it obvious?” said Merlin, quietly. “He would like to see us both suffer.” Arthur stared at him.

“Merlin? Is that you?” said a soft, young voice.

A young boy pulled in, eight or nine years old, with sleepy blue eyes, floppy gold hair, and rumpled pajamas. “Can you make me a toddy, double marshmallow and candy cream, like usua—” The young prince caught his dad at the window. “Oh. Thought you were alone.” The boy started to leave.

“Tedros, wait—” Arthur began.

Young Tedros spun around. “Why are you still here? Go find Mother! You promised! Just like you promised to keep the Woods safe. But you’re not doing that either! You’re not doing anything!” He stormed out of the room.

Arthur didn’t go after him, pain clouding his eyes, looking even more the child than his son.

Next to Agatha, the grown Tedros was breathing raggedly, reliving this very moment, watching Merlin step towards his dad.

“You’ve lost your wife, Arthur. You’ve lost your best friend,” the wizard said gently. “Don’t lose him too.” A tear rolled down the king’s cheek.

“I’ll send word to the Green Knight,” said Merlin, touching the king. “Tomorrow at dawn in Ender’s Forest. Where no one will see us.” The king gazed off into the distance . . . then turned. “Ender’s Forest? No one knows how to find that except you and me—” But Merlin was already gone.

As the scene vanished, Tedros looked more confused than ever. “We still don’t know what the Green Knight wanted from Merlin. The secret he came for. Which means we still don’t know the answer to my first test.” “The story isn’t over yet,” said Agatha, watching colors begin to fill in the darkness once more.

Tedros exhaled. “Was your family this messed up?”

“You have no idea,” Agatha said, forcing a smile.

Cramped close in the black box, she held her prince’s hand.

“We know the end to the tale,” Tedros said. “Merlin survives. Dad does too. The Green Knight dies.” He looked at his princess. “So why do I feel like something terrible is about to happen?” This, Agatha had no comfort for.

Because she had the same feeling too.

A purple forest melted into view around them, the leaves and flowers of every tree, bush, and shrub spanning shades of plum, violet, orchid, amethyst, and lavender.

“Tedros will know Ender’s Forest well, of course, for it’s where Merlin used to give him lessons,” Professor Sader spoke.

“When I could find it,” Tedros murmured.

“If the Celestium was the wizard’s place to think, then Ender’s Forest was the wizard’s place to practice—a forest that appeared only to Merlin whenever and wherever he wished, his space to workshop new spells and hexes and disguises away from prying eyes . . .” Merlin and Arthur heard the knight before they saw him, his resounding steps rattling the tree beneath which wizard and king waited, the dust of dawn rippling through darkness.

“Right on schedule,” said the wizard, combing his beard with his fingers.

“Took me ten tries to find this place the first time,” said Arthur. “How did he know how to get in?” Merlin didn’t answer, the knight’s footsteps growing louder.

Arthur instinctively touched the sword on his belt— “Whatever happens, you are to stay out of it,” Merlin ordered the king, his voice sharp. “Our trust has been strained of late, Arthur. You broke into my quarters. Stole my gnome potion so you could snoop after Guinevere. By betraying me, you only hastened her departure. But the stakes now are even higher. You have delivered me to the Green Knight, per the terms of the agreement. You are to play no further role.” Arthur looked distressed. “Merlin, you can’t expect me to stand here and let him—” “Remember why you are here,” Merlin retorted, stone-eyed. “To be a good king. To be a good father. Do not undo what is right with what feels right. Promise that you will do as I say. Promise that you will trust me to handle myself.” “But—”

“Promise me.”

The wizard’s tone left no doubt, no room for bargaining.

Arthur could see the shadow of the invincible savage approaching, his boots crushing the lilac beds, his golden axe spattered with blood. The king held back tears, faced with the inevitability of what was to come and no recourse to stop it.

“I promise,” he said emptily.

Merlin faced the knight.

“No tricks, Merlin,” his green nemesis flared, a hot flush already in his cheeks. “You have too much dignity to cheat me. I expect you to honor the terms.” He glanced at Arthur. “You, too. Though I can’t say the same about your dignity.” Arthur reached for his sword—

He saw Merlin glaring.

The king drew back.

“Let us finish our business, then,” the wizard resumed, stepping towards the knight. “Come, Japeth. Strike your blow.” Agatha gripped Tedros so hard she almost broke his hand. Tedros choked on his spit— Japeth? Agatha screamed in her head.

JAPETH?

The Green Knight hadn’t moved, his sad, dark eyes on the wizard. “How could you choose him over me, Merlin? How could you put your lot in with that?” He stabbed a meaty finger at Arthur. “This coward. This cuckold. When you could have had me. When the Woods could have had me.” Arthur looked between them. “What is he talking about, Merlin?” The wizard’s gaze stayed with the knight. “I didn’t choose Arthur over you, Japeth. Arthur was destined to be king.” “Don’t. Lie. No lies,” the Green Knight spat, his voice sounding younger, uncontrolled. “You favored him over me from the beginning. Even though I was Ector’s real son. Even though Father brought you to be my tutor. I was always stronger and better than that . . . wart. That’s what everyone called him, remember? Wart. A blemish on our house. A foster brother no one wanted. And still, you shined your light on him. Only him. That’s why he could pull the sword out of the stone. Because you helped him—” “Not true, Japeth.”

“I should have been king,” the knight said, his eyes welling. “I should be him!” Agatha’s hand went cold in her prince’s.

“Your wart of a son . . .”

The pieces slammed together in Agatha’s head: the knight’s taunts to the king, that wrong file in the Library, the one the mouse said was Japeth’s— The Green Knight wasn’t a stranger at all. The Green Knight was . . .

“Kay?” Arthur gasped, big-eyed.

“Don’t call me that, Wart,” the knight snarled. “I’m not Kay anymore. I’m Japeth, the name my mother gave me, not the puffed-up name Dad thought would be better for a knight. ‘Sir Kay,’ the bold and strong, fated for glory. Until you stole my destiny. Until the Storian made you legend and me the footnote. Sir Kay, the buffoon brother. But you know that wasn’t the truth. So you offered me a place as your first knight to make amends—only to mock me by giving Lance all your attention and love, the same way Merlin chose you over me. Not just Sir Kay, the idiot now. Now Sir Kay, the joke. Sir Kay, the Runt of the Round Table. That’s why I left Camelot. That’s why I waited to take my revenge until the time was right. Until the Woods could see the failure that was their king. I bet that’s why your wife left you? Because she knew the Wart I knew? Lancelot, too. He didn’t just steal your wife, he abandoned you, your choice to love him as wrong as Merlin’s choice to love you. You must wonder why everyone leaves you . . . Guinevere, Lancelot, soon Merlin, no doubt. Even Sir Kay has gone. A relic of your fairy tale. It’s Japeth, now. Mother named me right. A name fit for a Snake.” He turned on Merlin. “As for you, old man, I only want what you promised me as a boy. You swore when Arthur pulled the sword that I would go on to a destiny even bigger. That I would have a life I’d be proud of. That I wouldn’t resent that wart becoming king.” His cheeks burned a darker green. “And if I didn’t have a good life, a great life, if you were proven to have lied to me, then I could claim your Wizard Wish. The one wish every wizard keeps hidden away where only he can find it. A wish that can grant any desire said out loud, but one you save to choose when to leave this world, like all wizards do. Only it’s not your wish anymore, Merlin. Because you said if I didn’t find my destiny like you promised, then I could take your wish for myself. I could wish for anything I wanted to make up for what you deprived me of. Well, Merlin . . .” He prowled towards the wizard, gripping his axe.

“I wish for a death.”

Merlin showed no fear, no remorse. “I said you would live a great life if you allowed yourself to have it, Japeth. But you held on to your bitterness towards Arthur. Envy is a green snake that swallows the heart whole. Look at what it’s done to you. It’s swelled inside you, this green poison, devouring your soul, consuming your humanity, until it’s become bigger than you. Jealousy has no bounds. It cannot be quenched, even by death. You will live forever this way. Invincible, immortal . . . but eaten alive by the green snake of your heart. Unless you learn to let it go. Unless you learn to forgive. Not just me and Arthur, but yourself too. Only then can you begin again. Only then can you have the life you were meant to, the life I said you could have if you chose it.” “More lies! More excuses!” the Green Knight cried, his lips trembling. His towering form loomed over the wizard’s. He smeared at his eyes, forcing composure. “Kneel, you dog. My turn for a blow.” “As you wish,” said Merlin.

He slipped off his hat and bent to the ground, laying his head against a fallen tree, tilting his long beard to the side and bearing his white, scrawny neck.

Chills raced up Agatha’s spine, seeing Merlin so vulnerable, remembering the wizard was as mortal as she— “Wait,” Arthur choked out, rushing forward, sword in hand. “Don’t do this, Kay!” Merlin shot a spell, pinning Arthur against a tree, the king’s chest invisibly bound, his fist with Excalibur flailing in vain.

“Take your blow, Japeth,” the wizard spoke, his cheek to the log. “Do what you’ve come to do.” Agatha could see the Green Knight quaking harder as he stared down at Merlin’s neck, the axe unsteady in his palms.

“Why, Merlin?” he whimpered. “Why didn’t you love me?” The wizard lifted his eyes. “I love you as much as I love Arthur. As much as I love any of my wards. But love has to be received as much as it is given.” Tears spilled across the Green Knight’s face. “Tell me I would have made a better king . . . Tell me you made a mistake . . . That I should have been the Lion. Instead of the Snake.” Merlin gave him a warm, loving smile. “I hope you find peace, Japeth.” The knight let out a sob. “Curse you, Merlin.”

He raised the axe.

“No!” Arthur screamed, thrashing against the spell.

The Green Knight swung the blade down, cutting through Merlin.

With a cry, Arthur flung his sword across the forest— Excalibur impaled hard in the knight’s chest.

The green-skin hulk glanced down as blood gushed out of him . . . only to flow back in neatly, the wound closing around Arthur’s sword, the knight’s immortal skin healing once more.

But Arthur wasn’t looking at the Green Knight anymore.

He was gaping past him . . . at the wizard over the log . . .

“Agatha . . . ,” Tedros said.

Tedros was pointing at Merlin . . . Merlin, who Agatha couldn’t bear to look at because he’d have no head . . .

Only he did have a head.

Because the axe hadn’t cut through it.

The knight hadn’t aimed for Merlin’s neck at all.

He’d aimed for Merlin’s beard, shearing the long, raggedy patch of hair from the wizard’s chin.

Arthur froze as the Green Knight calmly retrieved the wizard beard from the dirt, the gash in the knight’s chest sealed around the blade.

Slowly, Merlin raised his head, surprised to be alive. He watched the Green Knight hold up the shorn beard, a deep steel in the knight’s eye. Only then did Merlin understand his plan.

“Listen to me, Japeth. Let’s talk first,” he said. For the first time, the wizard looked scared.

The Green Knight noticed. “So it is still here. You told me you hid it in your beard when you promised it to me. All these years. You could have moved it somewhere else . . .” “Don’t do it, Japeth,” Merlin begged.

“Thank you for giving me your Wizard Wish, Merlin,” said the knight, his voice steadying. “I know you wanted me to be happy. But I need this wish now. More than you.” “There are other ways—” Merlin insisted.

The Green Knight pressed the wizard beard to his heart. “I wish to give up this bitterness, this envy, this hate. I wish to feel love and forgiveness and peace. I wish to be restored to the man I’m meant to be.” He looked right at Merlin. “I wish to be . . . free.” “No!” the wizard cried.

Instantly the green started to fade from the knight’s skin. His muscles deflated, his veins shriveled, his sculpted cheeks sagged, until the Green Knight was nothing more than a soft-bellied, pallid, middle-aged man, out of place in an enchanted wood. Sir Kay took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, his focus lifting to the sky.

“So this is what it’s like . . . ,” he whispered.

He closed his eyes, the last tints of green draining.

The sword in his chest quivered.

The wound reopened, blood flooding his chest.

Kay opened his eyes as bright as the sun.

“Goodbye, Merlin,” he said.

Then he fell down dead.

Merlin ran to his side, scooping him into his arms.

But it was too late.

The wish granted.

The deed done.

Not Merlin’s death chosen . . . but the knight’s own.

The wizard wept softly, cradling Kay like a child.

His spell trapping Arthur broke, dropping the king face-first into dirt.

Arthur scraped himself to his elbows.

The wizard wouldn’t look at him.

“Merlin—” the king appealed.

The wizard thrust out a hand, silencing him. When he spoke at last, it was in a cold, harsh voice. “Kay could have had a second chance at life. I would have convinced him. I would have helped him. He might have finally had a path to become the man he was meant to be. But your sword gave him a way out. You gave him a way out instead of letting me fight for him.” Merlin paused, his back to the king. “People will say you killed the Green Knight. That you are the hero of this tale . . . But we both know the truth, Arthur. You broke your word to me. A king’s word.” The wizard’s voice crackled with anger. “Too many trusts broken between us. Too much gone wrong.” Slowly Merlin lay Kay down and rose into the light.

“I no longer have a Wizard Wish or the choice of when to end my days. But I can choose to end this. I’m leaving you, Arthur,” he said, standing over the king. “Our time together is done.” Ender’s Forest went silent and still.

Merlin and Arthur gazed upon each other for the last time . . .

The scene evaporated into darkness.

So too did the box around Agatha and Tedros, the prince and princess floating back down in the black room, a dim, cold star on the floor between their feet.

“Merlin’s beard,” said Tedros, choked with emotion. “That’s where Merlin hid his wish. That’s what the Green Knight wanted. Merlin’s beard is the answer to my first test.” Agatha looked at him, lost in a fog. “We have to get Merlin’s beard?” “To show Dad I know the truth,” said Tedros. “’Three tests. Three answers to find.’ He wanted me to learn that slaying the Green Knight wasn’t a victory. It was his greatest mistake. A mistake I have to learn from.” Voices amplified in the hall. Footsteps clattered closer.

“Beaver saw ‘em. Said the girl was that rebel Agatha,” a guard echoed. “Apparently she slayed the beaver’s cousin in a camel attack. Traveling with that traitor prince. If we kill ‘em, imagine the reward—” Tedros dragged Agatha into shadows.

“How can we get Merlin’s beard?” the prince questioned, still clammy and pale. “Merlin’s trapped in the Caves of Contempo—” “Where the witches are supposed to be,” Agatha remembered. “They have to rescue him before Japeth figures out the test, before he gets to Merlin . . .” The guards’ voices were nearing the exhibit, their steps closing in.

“We need to get in touch with the witches,” Tedros said urgently. “We need to know if they have Merlin!” “We need to get out of this library first!” Agatha pressed.

Frantically, they searched for a door, a window—

But it was too late.

Five guards turned the corner, Matchers reflecting in Tedros’ and Agatha’s faces, crossbows aimed at their necks.

“No, don’t!” Agatha screamed.

Guards cocked their triggers, arrows poised to fly.

“Fire!” the leader yelled—

The wall bashed in behind him, crushing the guards in a heap of rubble.

Agatha and her prince gaped as the dust cleared, sunlight filling the giant hole.

A big, hairy man-wolf peeped through, Nicola and Guinevere on his back.

“What’d we miss?” Hort chimed.