Soman Chainani - A Crystal of Time

The king raised his arms. “No more ‘once upon a time.’ The time is now . I want to hear your stories. And my men and I will seek them out, so that each day, my pen can write the real news of the Woods. Not tales of arrogant princes and witches fighting for power . . . but stories that spotlight you . Follow my pen and the Storian will no longer have a place in our world. Follow my pen and all of you will have a chance at glory!”

The whole of the Woods roared as Lionsmane ascended into the sky over Camelot, sparkling like a beacon.

“But Lionsmane alone is not enough to overcome the Storian and its legacy of lies,” Rhian continued. “The Lion in the tale of The Lion and the Snake had an Eagle by his side to ensure that no Snake could ever find its way into his realm again. A Lion needs an Eagle to succeed: a liege to the king who can serve as his closest advisor. And today, I bring you this liege who will help me fight for a greater Woods. Someone you can trust as much as you trust me.”

The crowd hushed in expectation.

From inside the balcony, the Snake started to move towards the stage, his green mask still in place, his back to Hester and the crew.

But just before he moved past an obscuring wall and into the view of the mob, the scims that made up the Snake’s mask dispersed into the air, flying out of sight.

“I present to you . . . my Eagle . . . and the liege to your king . . . ,” Rhian proclaimed. “Sir Japeth!”

Into the light walked the Snake, revealing his face to the throng, the gold of his suit kindling to shimmers in the sun.

Gasps came from the crowd.

“In that old, obsolete school, two just like us ruled over a pen. Two of the same blood who were at war with each other, Good and Evil,” the king heralded, holding Japeth close beneath Lionsmane. “Now two of the same blood rule over a new pen. Not for Good. Not for Evil. But for the people .”

The crowd erupted, singing the new liege’s name: “Japeth! Japeth! Japeth!”

That’s when the Snake turned and looked right into Hester’s projection, revealing his face to the imprisoned crew, as if he knew they were watching him.

Taking in the Snake’s beautiful, high-boned face for the first time, Hester’s whole body went slack.

“What was that about staying one step ahead?” she breathed to Professor Dovey.

Good’s Dean said nothing as Sir Japeth grinned back at all of them.

Then he turned and waved to the people alongside his identical twin brother, King Rhian . . .

The Lion and the Snake now lording over the Woods as one.

While the guards held her offstage, Sophie saw all of it.

The Snake becoming the Lion’s liege.

Rhian’s brother unmasked.

Lionsmane declaring war on the Storian.

The people of the Woods cheering on two frauds.

But Sophie’s mind wasn’t on King Rhian or his snake-eyed twin. Her mind was on someone else . . . the only person who mattered to her right now . . .

Agatha.

Even with Tedros set to die, at least she knew where he was. In the dungeons. Still alive. And as long as he was alive, there was hope.

But the last she’d seen of Agatha was her best friend being hunted by guards through the crowd.

Did she escape?

Was she even alive?

Tears sprung to Sophie’s eyes as she looked down at the diamond on her finger.

Once upon a time, she’d worn another ring . . . the ring of an Evil man who’d isolated her from her only real friend, just as she was now.

But that was different.

Back then, Sophie had wanted to be Evil.

Back then, Sophie had been a witch.

Marrying Rhian was supposed to be her redemption.

Marrying Rhian was supposed to be true love.

She’d thought he’d understood her. When she looked into his eyes, she’d seen someone pure, honest, and Good . Someone who acknowledged the shades of Evil in her heart and loved her for them like Agatha did.

He was gorgeous too, of course, but it wasn’t his looks that made her take his ring. It was the way he looked at her . The same way Tedros looked at Agatha. As if he could only be complete by having her love.

Two by two and four best friends. It was the perfect ending. Teddy with Aggie, Sophie with Rhian.

But Agatha had warned her: “ If there’s one thing I know, Sophie . . . it’s that you and I don’t get to have perfect endings. ”

She’d been right, of course. Agatha was the only person Sophie ever truly loved. She’d taken for granted that she and Aggie would be in each other’s lives forever. That their ending was safe.

But they were far away from that ending now . . . with no way back.

Four guards grabbed Sophie from behind and yanked her into the Blue Tower, their bodies reeking of onions and cider and sweat beneath their armor, their filthy nails digging into her shoulder before she finally flung out both arms and shoved them away.

“I wear the king’s ring,” Sophie seethed, smoothing her plunging pink dress. “So if you would like to retain your heads, I suggest you take your stultifying stench to the nearest baths and keep your grubby paws off me.”

One of the guards doffed his helmet, revealing sunburnt Wesley, the teenage pirate who’d tormented her in Jaunt Jolie. “King gave us orders to take yer to the Map Room. Don’t trust yer to git there on yer own, case you run like that wench Agatha did,” he sneered, flashing a squalid set of teeth. “So either we walk yer nicely like we were doin’ or we git you there a little less nice.”

The three other guards removed their helmets and Sophie came face-to-face with the pirate Thiago, bloodred carvings around his eyes; a black boy with the name “Aran” tattooed in fire on his neck; and a supremely muscular girl with shorn dark hair, piercings in her cheeks, and a lecherous glare.

“Your choice, Whiskey Woo,” growled the girl.

Sophie let them drag her.

As they goaded her through the Blue Tower rotunda, she saw a cadre of fifty workers, repainting columns with fresh Lion crests, refurbishing marble floors with Lion insignias in each tile, replacing the broken chandelier with one dangling a thousand tiny Lion heads, and switching out frayed blue chairs with spruced-up seats, the cushions embroidered with golden Lions. All remnants of King Arthur were similarly replaced, every tarnished bust and statue of the old king usurped with a buffed one of the new.

Sun sifted through the curtains, setting the circular foyer aglow, the light dancing off the new paint and polished gems. Sophie noticed three skeletal women with identical faces moving across the room in matching silk lavender robes. They handed each worker a satchel that clinked with coins, the three sisters gliding as one unit with imperious stiffness, as if they were the queens of the castle. The women saw Sophie watching them and gave her a simpering smile, bobbing together in a tight curtsy.

There was something off about them, Sophie thought. Not just their fake monkey grins and that bungled bow, like they were freak-show clones . . . but the fact that under those clean pastel robes, they weren’t wearing any shoes . As the women continued to pay workers, Sophie peered at their grimy, bare feet that looked like they belonged to chimney sweeps, not ladies of Camelot.