فصل 14

14

TEDROS

What It Feels Like for a King

The Treasury Master was put off until after lunch.

Chef Silkima nearly passed out when she saw there were five to feed instead of just the king and scampered back to the kitchens, which erupted in shrieks and a clatter of pans.

“I’d offer my hat to help, but it’s on strike until I give it a pension plan,” Merlin sighed, taking a seat in the Blue Tower dining room. “Says it wants ‘security.’” “And I thought fairies were a challenge,” Professor Dovey murmured, sitting beside him.

“It’s Lance’s fault,” said Guinevere across the table. “Couldn’t leave the hat alone, demanding food night and day: turkey legs and beef bourguignon and enough bacon to rid the world of pigs . . . Wore the poor thing out.” Lancelot shrugged. “A man needs to eat.”

Sitting quietly at the head of the table, Tedros listened to the group banter: first about how they’d snuck into the castle (they’d mogrified into dung beetles beneath Merlin’s hat and shoved it around like a dung ball) and then how’d they’d taken turns changing under Agatha’s bed into clothes they’d hidden in the hat as royal guards made their rounds— “But won’t Lady Gremlaine tell everyone you’re here?” Tedros cut in, wringing his hands. “Won’t they kill you for the bounty?” The group went quiet. Merlin met Tedros’ eyes.

“I’m afraid the time has come to endure such risks, Tedros. Given recent events, we need your mother and Lance to be at your side from here on out. That said, if anyone gets too close, I’ve reminded your mother and Lance how to use their spells from school to defend themselves.” Under Merlin’s stern glare, Guinevere and Lancelot quickly lit their fingers. Guinevere’s flickered feebly. Lance’s burnt hot red, then snuffed out spectacularly with a loud fart sound and burp of smoke.

“Or at least, confound their attackers,” Merlin piffed.

Tedros managed a smile. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. All of you.” His mother smiled back, her eyes glistening.

“If only this were a social call,” said Merlin.

Tedros tensed. He knew there had to be a reason that Merlin would risk his mother’s and Lance’s safety and Professor Dovey would leave her students to come here. But hearing it out loud made his stomach hollow.

“I’ve had my fill of bad news today,” he said.

“No news, good or bad, should be discussed on an empty stomach,” Merlin assured. “Silkima!” More pots clanged in the kitchen.

Lunch was meatballs with yellow curry, spaghetti squash with smoked paprika, and peppered radish patties, all of which had been violently spiced, as if the cooks had taken out their angst on the food. By the end, Tedros had sweated through his shirt and the whole table spent as much time sniffling and gulping iced water as they did eating.

“Dessert is chili-spiced truffles,” Chef Silkima announced, stonefaced.

“Perhaps we’ll skip it,” the wizard told the chef, waiting until she was gone before he turned to the rest. “Shall we talk?” A short while later, they were all on one side of the table, some sitting, some standing, as they studied the Quest Map floating over them and listened to Professor Dovey finish recounting what she and Merlin knew about Chaddick’s death and Sophie’s and Agatha’s adventures in Avalon.

“After I spoke to them in my crystal ball, Agatha and Sophie started tracking the Snake,” she said, pointing at a miniature white-sailed ship inching across the Savage Sea. “The Storian painted them last night aboard the Igraine, which should reach Jaunt Jolie later today judging from its movements here. But four quest teams are missing that I haven’t been able to reach via crow or crystal ball—Ravan’s, Kiko’s, Vex’s, and now Beatrix’s in Jaunt Jolie. All their teams appear safe, given their names haven’t been crossed out on my map. But each of the four teams seem to be moving away from their assigned kingdoms, which seems a rather ominous coincidence.” Tedros could see his mother and Lance as shocked by all this as he was.

“This Snake killed Chaddick and is going after our quest teams because of . . . me?” he said to the wizard and Dean. “So The Lion and the Snake . . . that story we learned growing up . . . It’s real?” “As a point of fact, no,” said Merlin. “The Lion and the Snake isn’t a real tale at all. And whoever this Snake is likely knows that.” “What do you mean it isn’t real?” Lancelot asked.

“The Storian didn’t write it,” said the wizard. “By all accounts, The Lion and the Snake was invented by an early king of Camelot a thousand years ago. He and his brother both laid claim to the throne, so he made up this tale and spread it through the kingdom as if it were real. He portrayed his brother as the Snake and himself as the Lion, suggesting the kingdom would be in grave danger if his brother were picked to rule instead of him. The people listened and crowned him king.” “So we grew up learning a fake fairy tale?” Tedros said.

“But is it fake if people believe in it?” asked Merlin. “You assume that it is truth that makes a story valuable, because the tales that come from the Storian are true. The Storian writes history. But man is capable of writing stories too and man has no obligation to truth or to history. Indeed, the Storian wrote its own honest version of The Lion and the Snake at the time, recounting the tale of the king who spread falsehoods to win his crown, but it is a story no one remembers or tells. Instead, the story that lasted is the fraudulent one. Even the Royal Rot stopped reminding its readers long ago that the founding tale of Camelot is fabricated, because no one seems to care. Something about the false story resonates with people. Something that makes the story endure. Even if it’s based in a lie.” “And this Snake,” said Tedros, “he believes the story is true?”

“You’re not listening, Tedros. The story is a thousand years old. Clearly the Snake has no ties to the brothers in the tale,” Merlin said, voice hardening. “What matters is how the Snake chooses to interpret the story. What matters is whether the Snake believes he can use the tale to take your throne.” “But the Snake dies in the story—” said Tedros.

“Wrongly, in this Snake’s view,” said the wizard. “In the story, the Snake believes the Lion has stolen a throne that is his. The Snake out there in the Woods must believe the same thing about you. It’s why he’s chosen to live out this story again and see it through to its just end. In his mind, you’ve taken his throne. Now he wants it back. And it is up to you, as the true king, to stop him.” Tedros’ head was pounding. “I don’t understand. No one else has a claim to the throne—” “And yet your father’s sword remains trapped in a stone. So your claim too remains in doubt,” the wizard hectored. “And if the Snake comes for you, you’ve done nothing to show anyone that you are indeed the Lion in this story.” “What are you saying, Merlin?” Guinevere asked, sharing her son’s confusion.

Merlin glared back at her. “His friend is dead, Guinevere. The rest of his friends might be next, along with his queen. Kingdoms everywhere are under threat and begging Camelot for help, only to get no response from its king. A king who someone out there believes shouldn’t be king at all. So instead of jerking Excalibur day after day, which clearly isn’t going to work, I’m saying he should be trying to find out why it’s stuck there in the first place.” “I am King Arthur’s son,” Tedros declared, leveling Merlin with a stare. “I am the Lion by birthright and if a Snake dares challenge that, I will kill him. With or without my sword.” The room was quiet.

Merlin exhaled. “Clarissa. Show him.”

Professor Dovey didn’t move, grimacing. “Merlin, I don’t think we—” The wizard turned to her. “Show him or I will.”

Professor Dovey took a deep breath and pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. She placed it on the table. “This was the Storian’s last page before I left for Camelot. I had one of the fairies copy it as best they could.” Tedros pulled it open.

“You betrayed Chaddick for a Snake?” Sophie cried. “Chaddick had Tedros’ trust! Chaddick had Tedros’ faith! What does a Snake have?” Slowly the Lady of the Lake raised her eyes.

“He has Arthur’s blood,” she said.

Tedros, his mother, and Lancelot all turned to Merlin, white as milk.

“Arthur’s blood?” Guinevere breathed.

Lancelot shook his head. “That’s . . . that’s . . .”

“Impossible,” finished Tedros.

“Not necessarily,” said Merlin, glancing at Professor Dovey as if they’d already thought this through. “There are a number of explanations for what the Lady of the Lake said to Sophie. The Snake may be a relative of Arthur: a half-brother or nephew or blood cousin we are unaware of. The Snake could be referring to having Arthur’s physical blood in his possession, even to suggest that he killed Arthur, meaning he inflicted the mortal wound at the Battle of the Four Point almost seven years ago. He could even mean it figuratively: that he has Arthur’s blood ‘on his hands’ and holds Arthur responsible for a crime he’s committed. Whatever the Snake’s meaning, it made the Lady of the Lake let him into her kingdom and protect him over Tedros’ knight. Even more, this Snake must be quite the charmer, because it appears from the Storian’s painting that the Lady of the Lake has lost her powers. . . . Which means the Lady likely kissed him as well.” “The Lady of the Lake? Sorceress eternal? Kiss a boy?” Lancelot said, agape.

“My reaction, precisely,” said Professor Dovey.

“To seduce the Lady of the Lake into giving up her powers is a staggering feat—one that should strike fear into all of us,” said Merlin gravely. “But that isn’t the only thing that’s troubling. The Lady of the Lake is capable of mistakes; she has human emotions after all. Excalibur, on the other hand, does not make mistakes. And it remains trapped in the stone at the same time that a Snake has made its way into the Woods, claiming to have King Arthur’s blood.” Everyone was quiet, a thick unease filling the room.

For the first time, Tedros finally understood what Merlin had been trying to tell him.

“So there’s two possibilities,” Tedros said. “One is the Snake has no claim to the throne and Excalibur wants me to prove I’m the true king, not him. Only then can I pull the sword.” “Correct,” said Merlin.

“And the second possibility?” asked Guinevere.

“The second possibility isn’t a possibility,” said Tedros.

“The second possibility is that Excalibur is waiting for the Snake to pull the sword and prove he’s king, not Tedros,” said Merlin.

Tedros felt nauseous, hearing the wizard say it out loud.

“The Snake can’t have Dad’s actual blood,” he said, breathless. “Dad had no brothers or sisters.” “Unless there was one he didn’t know about,” said Guinevere. “He called Sir Ector his father, the man who adopted him. I never met his real parents. I don’t even know who they were.” “Did Dad know who they were?” Tedros asked his mother.

Guinevere blushed and stared at her hands. “I feel so stupid. I should have asked more about his family. But Arthur had a way of closing off certain avenues of conversation. There were many things we just didn’t talk about. It’s why it was so easy for the two of us to keep secrets from each other.” An uncomfortable silence fell.

“After Lance and I left . . . ,” Guinevere started. “Is it possible Arthur—” “No,” said Tedros. “Dad never touched another woman after you abandoned him. He was faithful to you, even if you weren’t to him.” Guinevere nodded, unable to look at him.

Tedros’ head was hammering. Chaddick dead . . . Lady of the Lake kissed . . . Dad’s blood . . .

“What do we do, Merlin?” he asked shakily.

The wizard looked him straight in the eyes. “My king, I am asking you that question.” Tedros saw the whole table turn to him.

“When you were in peril at school, Clarissa and I did our best to intervene,” said Merlin. “We knew what we were up against with the School Master. But this time Clarissa and I are of little help. This is no ordinary villain. Not if he made the Lady of the Lake betray you and drained her powers. The Snake could surely waltz into Camelot and try his hand at Excalibur any moment he chooses. But he hasn’t. Why? Because he wants to make you look weak first. He wants the people of the Woods to see they’re behind the wrong king. Only then will he come for Excalibur—when they no longer have a Lion to believe in. And as that Lion, you must stop him. So now, my dear king, you must tell us what to do.” Tedros swallowed, every muscle in his body rigid.

He’d been king for more than six months. But this was the first time he felt like one.

“I’ll lead an army against him,” he said finally. “An army of Good and Evil, like my father would. The Snake won’t stand a chance.” “Thank you, my king. Then that is what we will do,” said Merlin, turning to the others. “But we must build this army quickly.” “Merlin, we have no soldiers, no knights, and no funds,” said Tedros, feeling powerless again. “We don’t even know the Snake’s plan—” “I said Clarissa and I would be of ‘little help.’ Not ‘no help,’” said the wizard. “Look closer at this map.” Tedros leaned in, as did his mother and Lancelot.

“Or rather: look bigger,” the wizard said.

He swished his hand and the floating Quest Map extended at both ends, showing more and more three-dimensional kingdoms far beyond the scope of the students’ quests—kingdoms Tedros had never heard of: Dannamorah, Sing-Sing, Hisa Hassan, Shangri-La . . . The map kept stretching across the length of the dining room until it jammed against the walls and started curling in, reaching around Tedros like a python. . . .

“The Woods are endless. That we know, since fools like me keep trying to find the end of them,” said the wizard, stopping the map’s advance before it mummified the young king. “And yet, the Deans of the School for Good and Evil only assign students’ quests in the kingdoms nearest to the school. A perfect little orbit . . .” He swept his hand, lighting up the fourth years in a fluorescent circle around the twin castles. “Why? To keep students at close distance, should there be a need to dispatch a rescue team.” He erased the glow along with all the figurines and names. “Now let’s look at the terror attacks in the Woods. Terror that is supposedly random and assaulting kingdoms without warning. But is it so random? Look at where the attacks have happened—” Merlin pointed a finger and instantly dozens of kingdoms on the map were plagued by shadows of magical terror: a raging fire in Glass Mountain; looting werewolves in Bloodbrook; clouds of bees in Gillikin; yogurt mudslides in Altazarra. . . .

“If the terror were random, then one would expect it to appear everywhere. Even in kingdoms at the farthest ends of the Woods. But as you can see . . .” He nodded towards the extended regions of the map, blissfully clear of attacks. “They seem to have been miraculously spared. Instead, all the terror is concentrated right here at the center of the map. And if we’re even more precise . . .” He waved his hand, lighting up the afflicted kingdoms with fluorescent glow— “They’re all in a perfect orbit right around Camelot. Just as your classmates’ quests are all circled around the School for Good and Evil.” Tedros stared at the illuminated sphere circling his kingdom. “Um, okay. I know I’m supposed to know what this means, but I wasn’t as good a student as Agatha—” “It means the unrest in the Woods is as carefully planned as the quest assignments are,” Professor Dovey cut in, sounding as teacherly as when she’d taught his Good Deeds class. “The Snake doesn’t want the entire Woods in upheaval. He only wants the kingdoms closest to Camelot to suffer and he’s paying his minions to target these kingdoms specifically.” “But why the kingdoms around Camelot instead of Camelot?” Lancelot asked. “And why these small-time attacks? Fires? Looting? Bees? Why not just come for Tedros?” “Oh, he’s coming for Tedros. And soon. That is a certainty,” said Merlin.

“Let him come for me,” Tedros retorted, fists clenched. “I’ll kill him—” “And that is precisely the Snake’s plan. To bait you into a fight you are not ready for,” said Merlin sternly. “You have no army yet. The people of Camelot doubt your place and fitness as king. The kingdoms around Camelot are plagued by chaos and fear, their rulers desperately calling on Camelot to save them as it has always done before. Only this time, Camelot’s king has done nothing to help them. And yet . . . you still think you’re ready to fight?” “I’m King Arthur’s son—” Tedros defended.

“A king is only as strong as his kingdom. A king is only as strong as his allies. A king is only as strong as his army. You are not strong, Tedros, and the Snake knows it,” said Merlin, bearing down. “You are as weak now as your father was in the last year of his reign. And his weakness led not only to his death, but to the fall of the kingdom into enemy hands.” Tedros went quiet.

“The Snake is well aware of your father’s history,” said the wizard. “He will not give you the time to build an army or get stronger. Soon he’ll reveal himself to the Woods as the mastermind behind all these attacks and dare you to battle him on a grand stage. And it’s quite clear what this stage will be.” Tedros paled. “The Four Point,” he said, meeting the wizard’s eyes. “Where Dad was wounded.” “It’s surely why he tricked the Lady of the Lake into kissing him. So the Four Point would no longer be protected,” said the wizard. He pointed towards a tiny territory on the map not far from Camelot, where two Ever kingdoms and two Never kingdoms met: Jaunt Jolie, Kingdom Kyrgios, Ravenbow, and Bloodbrook. “The Four Point isn’t just a symbol of King Arthur’s reign. It is the only reason there is lasting peace between Good and Evil—a truce point that reminds kingdoms Camelot will fight to protect the balance. The people of the Woods are terrified right now. If the Snake murders you on the same spot your father suffered a fatal blow, it means he is not just more powerful than King Arthur, but more powerful than his legacy. With that kind of power, I assure you, no one will stop him from walking into Camelot and taking your crown. Regardless of what becomes of Excalibur.” “Which is why I should ride out there right now,” Tedros returned, rising from his seat— “No, it’s why you shouldn’t ride out there at all,” said Merlin. “Did you hear anything I just said? The Four Point will be a trap. And to fight the Snake there is to fall right into it.” The young king stared at him, still on his feet. “So I should let him violate Camelot’s land? My father’s sacred memorial? I have to stop him—” “With no Excalibur and no Lady of the Lake?” Professor Dovey said, echoing the wizard. “On land that he’s been scouting for weeks? Stay the course, Tedros, just like you planned. Build alliances. Build your army for the bigger war to come.” “I don’t need Excalibur. I don’t need the Lady of the Lake,” Tedros persisted. “I have to fight for my people. I’m their leader, Merlin. I’m their defender. If he even gets near the Four Point, I’ll slit this reptile’s throat and prove I’m king once and for all.” “Tedros is right,” Lancelot jumped in. “He can’t let the Four Point go undefended. I’ll ride with him and fight by his side.” “It’s too dangerous!” said Guinevere, clearly distressed now that her love’s life was at risk.

“Arthur and I always took on the most dangerous enemies ourselves. You know that, Gwen,” Lancelot growled. “That was his duty as king. That was my duty as his knight. That’s how we kept this kingdom safe.” “But this is Tedros, not Arthur,” Guinevere came back. “Last time you and Tedros fought together, you ended up impaled to a tree by the School Master and nearly bled to death. Even you said that your shoulder isn’t the same since. And now you want to ride into battle again? Listen to Merlin and Professor Dovey. Both of you. Don’t do anything rash.” “Mother, I know I am not my father. Thank you for reminding me of that,” Tedros said coldly. “But Agatha and my friends are out there in the Woods fighting my quest. I can’t let them risk their lives for me any longer.” He turned to Merlin. “This is my destiny as king. No one else’s. You can’t stop me from fighting—” “I’m not trying to stop you from fighting, Tedros,” said the wizard. “I’m trying to stop you from fighting before you are ready. This is a Snake who duped Good’s greatest sorceress. A Snake who thinks he’s the rightful king. He will not fight fairly and you must be prepared. If you fight him on his terms, he will kill you and your queen, just like he already killed your best friend.” Tedros fell silent.

“Four Point is only a three-hour ride from here. We should leave now, Tedros,” Lancelot forced, ignoring Merlin. “Don’t listen to the wizard. You and I beat the School Master, after all.” “Only because I had a plan and brought you an army,” Merlin said sharply.

Lancelot opened his mouth to argue, then closed it.

Tedros looked between the wizard, the Dean, his mother, and the knight, thinking carefully.

Then he turned to Merlin.

“Let’s get back to building our army,” said the king.

Guinevere exhaled. Lancelot sank back in his chair and glowered out the window, rubbing at his shoulder.

The wizard continued: “If we are to build an army to fight the Snake, then we will need allies. Tedros must immediately convene a summit of Ever and Never leaders from the affected kingdoms. Despite the fact that you’ve ignored their pleas for help, you must assure them that Camelot is still on their side—and that you are the only ruler who still has all of their interests at heart.” Tedros nodded, trying to look confident.

“Until that summit occurs and while Agatha’s crew tracks the Snake’s movements, the five of us must be our own crew with our own task. . . .” Merlin looked around the table. “We need to find out who this Snake might be. And more importantly, where he gets his power.” Merlin turned to Professor Dovey. “On that note, perhaps it’s best if I visit the Lady of the Lake myself.” “You can’t go now, Merlin. I need you,” the Dean breathed, quickly and tight-lipped as if she didn’t want the others to hear.

“You’re more than ready to do it on your own,” the wizard murmured.

“Something’s still bothering me, Merlin,” said Guinevere, interrupting them. “Even if the Snake is Arthur’s family, Tedros has the throne by birthright. He is Arthur’s first and only son. No amount of Arthur’s blood can challenge that.” The wizard gazed at her thoughtfully. “Quite right, Guinevere. Unless, of course, by ‘Arthur’s blood,’ the Snake meant—” He paused.

“Unless he meant . . . what,” Tedros pushed.

Merlin turned to the Dean. “I’m afraid I need to depart at once, Clarissa. I’ll see you at school in a few days’ time.” He stood and gathered his cape and hat, leaving the Dean dismayed.

“But, Merlin—” Dovey pleaded.

“You’ll do quite fine without me, Clarissa. Just stay vigilant,” he said cryptically as he headed for the door. “As for the rest of you, I’ll leave you to your afternoon meeting, which Clarissa would be wise to avoid as well, since it concerns the only thing in the world wizards and fairy godmothers are deathly allergic to.” “What’s that?” Tedros asked.

“Money,” said Merlin, without looking back.

“The advisors want to talk to me?” Tedros said, eyes wide. “Lady Gremlaine has been trying to arrange a meeting between me and them for six months and their only response has been to urinate in their food and throw it in her direction.” “Well, apparently, they’ve changed their minds,” said the Treasury Master, not looking up from his ledger. “Sent a scrap of paper through a guard named Kei. He couldn’t find Lady Gremlaine so he brought it to me.” The Treasury Master was an egg-shaped, fleshy figure, no taller than a baby Christmas tree, with a bald pate, floppy ears, and enormous gold glasses that took up most of his pug-nosed, pink-skinned face. Tedros couldn’t tell if he was human or ogre.

“They’ll see you after supper and they made it clear you’re to be alone,” said the Treasury Master. He lifted his head and looked at Lancelot and Guinevere, seated beside Tedros, then went back to his ledger. “I summoned you to give you the message, so now that it’s delivered, I assume our meeting is at an end—” “Not so fast,” said Lancelot. “We have more questions, Treasury Master.” As the knight interrogated him, Tedros lapsed into his thoughts. After six months, his father’s advisors had agreed to see him. The advisors who’d driven Camelot into debt. The advisors who’d done something with its gold. Finally he would get answers.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question,” the Treasury Master was saying, perched between stacks of soggy ledgers and chewing the end of his red pencil.

“You don’t understand the question? Or do you not understand words in general?” Lancelot bullied, still pent up from the lunch meeting.

“Lance,” Guinevere said, before simpering at the Treasury Master. “All we’re asking is how are we still losing money now that the advisors are in jail? Since Tedros took the throne, the kingdom has been collecting taxes fairly and he’s cut spending to the bone. Camelot should be bringing in more gold than before. Not falling deeper and deeper into debt—” “Accounting is a complicated field, Lady Guinevere,” said the Treasury Master vacantly. “Best left to the likes of men.” Guinevere’s face changed. She glanced at Lancelot.

The knight cracked his knuckles. “Who appointed you Treasury Master, kind sir?” “The Council of Advisors brought me in after Arthur’s death, given my sterling reputation. And I have a contract for a twelve-year term, so my position is secure,” said the Treasury Master, holding his gaze. “Speaking of security, isn’t there still a bounty on both of your heads?” Lancelot leaned in. “You’re welcome to try to collect.”

Tedros couldn’t concentrate.

His mind was on Excalibur.

Was the sword waiting for him to kill the Snake?

Or was it waiting for the Snake to kill Tedros?

Tedros gritted his teeth. He could feel his fingers twitching. . . . How could he hold back for an army? . . . He wanted to fight the Snake right now. . . .

He took a deep breath.

Merlin and Professor Dovey were right. His father had ridden into the Battle of the Four Point weak and without a plan and lost everything. Tedros couldn’t make the same mistake. Not just for him, but for Agatha too.

Agatha.

His heart clenched thinking of his true love out in the Woods with her crew, tracking a deadly villain. He wished he could have spoken to Professor Dovey before she left. She was the last person to talk to Agatha and he wanted to know how she was and why she hadn’t written when she promised she would. But now Tedros was thinking about the Storian’s last page. . . . “Arthur’s blood . . .” Why had Merlin gone just as he seemed to figure out what the words meant? Was there someone in Arthur’s family who wanted the crown? Someone willing to kill his son for it? Someone Merlin knew? Tedros thought back to what Lady Gremlaine had said in the Hall of Kings. . . . “How little you know of your father . . .” And yet, deep inside, he had the sinking feeling that they were all wrong . . . that they had missed the real meaning of the Lady of the Lake’s words. . . .

But now Tedros was thinking of the summit he had to call to build an army. He’d put off answering the urgent letters from neighboring kingdoms because Camelot had zero to offer them. If he went ahead with a summit, he’d have to face them all in person. . . .

“Tedros?” his mother’s voice said.

He looked up to see her, Lance, and the Treasury Master staring at him.

“Oh. Um, what was the question?” Tedros asked.

Lance glowered. “I told Humpty Dumpty here to show me Camelot’s accounts and he said no and I said show me or I’ll give you the beating of your life and he said only the king can order him to show the kingdom’s books—” “And he isn’t officially king,” said the Treasury Master, barely looking at Tedros. “Which means maybe I should call some guards and see if they’re interested in splitting a bounty.” He grinned at Guinevere and Lancelot. “Think there’s just enough gold in the kingdom left for that.” Maybe it was the way the fat little twit said it. Or the way he ignored Tedros like he was a kitchen maid. Or maybe now that a Snake wanted his crown, Tedros finally felt like a Lion. Whatever it was, it made Tedros stand up.

“I’m the only king you have at the moment, my friend. So as long as you plan to remain at Camelot, you and everyone else in this castle are under my command. Which means you’ll hand over the kingdom’s books without another word and you’ll never threaten my mother and Lancelot again. First things first, though.” Tedros turned to Lance. “You have a beating to give.”

The Treasury Master gasped.

Tedros knew from experience that Lancelot could inflict remarkable pain in a short time. The Treasury Master didn’t fare well, then. Bruised and whimpering behind the desk like a dying cat, he quiveringly handed over all of Camelot’s ledgers, which Lance, Tedros, and his mother lugged into a Blue Tower sitting room and spread out over the tattered mohair carpet.

The palm plant in the corner of the room was dead, the powder-blue wallpaper had water bubbles in it, and the cracked ceiling leaked onto the fireplace mantel, drip, drip, drip. A few mosquitoes buzzed around their heads. But the three of them stayed hunched on the carpet for hours, barely speaking as they scoured the Treasury Master’s books. Soon the sky dimmed through the windows and stewards put down plates of chicken tikka and saffron rice, which were eaten hastily and shoved aside so they could get back to work.

Finally Lancelot looked up. “They taxed the poor and the middle class at double the rates Arthur did and cut the taxes of the wealthiest landowners. That’s obvious. But it still looks like we have plenty of money coming into the accounts. More than enough to build an army.” “But if revenues are up, how can we be bankrupt? That’s what I don’t understand,” said Guinevere. “Who has the expense books—” “I do and they all look fine too,” said Tedros, peering at a ledger. “Well, except the expenses for CB. Those numbers are astronomical. Must be where all the extra money went. But that’s to be expected after Dad died.” “What’s CB?” Guinevere asked.

“’Camelot Beautiful,’” Tedros answered. “Advisors started the fund after Dad died to help maintain and refurbish the castle. Agatha’s been raising money for it the past six months—” He stopped talking.

Slowly they took in the room around them . . . the warped wallpaper . . . dripping ceiling . . . molting plant . . .

“Well, one thing’s for sure,” said Lancelot. “Whatever money’s in that fund isn’t going to Camelot Beautiful.” Guinevere shook her head. “Where is it going, then? Where is all of Camelot’s gold?” “Only one way to find out,” said Tedros, snapping his book shut. He stood and straightened his crown, his eyes crystal blue, his face regal, looking like the Tedros in the Hall of Kings.

“It’s time for me to meet these advisors.”