Читать книгу A Crystal of Time - Soman Chainani, Soman Chainani - Страница 11

After leaving Avalon, Agatha planned to sneak into a neighboring kingdom and find food and a place to sleep. She needed time to think about the Lady of the Lake’s strange drawing . . . time to stash a crystal ball that was weighing her down . . . time to plot her next moves. . . .

That all changed when she got to Gillikin.

It was past twilight when Agatha crossed into the Ever kingdom, home to the Emerald City of Oz. She’d snuck in on a wheelcart of visitors from Ginnymill who’d come traveling up the coast (Agatha stowed herself under their luggage). By the time they reached the yellow brick road on the outskirts of Emerald City and dismounted in a market jammed with noisy tourists, the sky was dark enough for Agatha to slip out and blend into the crowd.

A week ago, Agatha had read reports of Gillikin plagued by the Snake’s attacks—fairy-eating wasps, carriage bombs, and rogue nymphs—that paralyzed the kingdom. The Fairy Queen of Gillikin and the Wizard of Oz, once rivals vying for power, had been forced into a truce, both appealing to Tedros of Camelot for help. Now, with the Snake supposedly dead at Rhian’s hands, Gillikin had pledged its alliance to Camelot’s new king and its thoroughfares bustled once more, the people of the Woods no longer afraid to go about their lives.

Agatha had chosen to come to Gillikin for a few reasons: first, because it was the nearest Ever kingdom to Avalon and home to the invisible fairies who had once sheltered her from the School Master’s zombies; and more importantly, because it was a melting pot of immigrants from all over the Woods, determined to find their way into Emerald City and win an audience with the wizard. Among such a motley mob, Agatha figured she was bound to suss out news of Camelot, as well as of Tedros and her friends. At the same time, with so many people clogging the yellow streets, clamoring for a coveted “green ticket” into Emerald City (either you won one by lottery or you scalped one from a dodgy vendor), Agatha assumed she’d go unnoticed.

Which turned out to be a mistake.

Everywhere she looked, there were WANTED posters in different languages fixed to the market stalls, glowing in the torchlight—

As the wizard only granted a few meetings a day, the search for Agatha had become a manic treasure hunt. Vendors hawked magical “Agatha-Vision” goggles to spot her, luminescent Lion lassos to capture her, Tedros voice boxes that emitted the prince’s voice to bait her, faux-crystal balls to track her, even maps of Gillikin with notations where Agatha had supposedly been spotted.

“If I meet the wizard, I’m gonna ask him for a new leg,” Agatha overheard a limping boy tell a scraggly vendor as he bought one of the maps. Agatha lingered behind the boy, six or seven years old, as he unfurled the parchment and scanned the tiny cartoon Agathas with witchy hair and gnashed teeth, dotted around the map. The boy looked up. “You sure you saw her?”

“Came and bought a map from me,” said the vendor, smiling, “just like you.”

“Then why didn’t you catch her yourself?” the boy asked.

The vendor’s smile flattened. “Uh, well, because I didn’t have a Lion lasso like this one here!”

The boy peered at him skeptically . . . then started counting coins from his pocket.

Overhead, glittery floodlights scanned the crowds, projected by clouds of invisible fairies joining the hunt, the same fairies who’d once protected Agatha from Evil and now sought to deliver her back to it. The iridescent spotlights flushed across the market, about to light up her face—

Agatha dove behind a stall, crashing into a pine hedge and landing hard on the bag carrying Dovey’s crystal ball. Cursing silently, she picked pine needles out of her chin, listening to the din of the market: the conversation in languages she didn’t recognize . . . the sizzle of food carts selling “wizard” burgers (gold-dusted patties in green palm leaves) and “fairy” creams (hot buttermilk with sparkle-foam) . . . the sharp voice of a stall barker, drifting over the crowd: “Step right up! Gilly’s Ticket Hub! Best price on tickets in the Woods! Emerald City passes! Caves of Contempo tours! Fairy flights to Beauty and the Feast! Reservations available tonight! Step right up! Come to Gilly’s!”

As Agatha lumbered to her feet, she saw that the stall she’d crashed behind was selling both Wizard of Oz merchandise and King Rhian memorabilia in tribute to the new alliance, the shop packed with tourists waving bags of coins at the three vendors frantically dispensing Lion mugs, shirts, masks, bags, and candy.

“But I thought Agatha and Tedros were Good,” said a young girl to her mother, who was jostling in the crowd, trying to buy a cheap gold pen that resembled the Storian. Only it wasn’t meant to be the Storian, Agatha realized, because engraved in the gold surface was the word . . . LIONSMANE.

Lionsmane? Agatha peered closer at it. What’s that?

“You used to tell me Agatha and Tedros’ fairy tale every night before bed,” the young girl was badgering her mother, “and they ended as king and queen, remember? That was their Ever After—”

“Well, turns out Agatha and Tedros were only pretending to be king and queen, while the real king was out here in the Woods,” her mother assured. “King Rhian killed the Snake, while Tedros did nothing. King Rhian is the leader of Good now. And Sophie will be his queen.”

“He’s the leader of Evil too,” rasped a black-cloaked hag near them, who was also waiting to buy one of the gold pens. “That’s why he’s marrying Sophie. To bring us all together. Rhian is king of the whole Woods now. And Lionsmane will make sure you never hear a fake fairy tale like Agatha’s again. King Rhian’s pen is going to tell real stories.” She grinned toothlessly at the little girl. “Might even write yours.”

Rhian’s pen? Agatha thought, bewildered.

The young girl blinked between her mother and the hag.

“But why does King Rhian have to kill Tedros?” she asked. “And why does he have to kill him at his wedding to Sophie?”

Agatha’s stomach wrenched so hard she felt it in her throat.

Tedros killed at Rhian and Sophie’s—

Impossible. They couldn’t kill King Arthur’s son at a royal wedding. It could never happen. Sophie would never let it happen. Sophie would protect Tedros . . . She’d plot against Rhian from inside the castle . . . She’d never marry that monster!

Agatha tensed. Or now that Sophie was about to be Queen of Camelot, worshipped by the entire Woods, would she suddenly turn back into—

Don’t be stupid, Agatha scoffed. She’d seen Sophie’s face when Rhian had trapped her at swordpoint. This wasn’t the old Sophie, who’d betrayed her best friends for love. This time, they were all on the same team against a fake king.

A fake king who was planning to kill the real one.

Agatha expected to feel a rush of panic—

But instead a sense of calm came over her.

If she didn’t find a way to get to Tedros, he would die in the worst possible way.

There was no time for helplessness.

Her prince needed her.

She slipped out from behind the stall, past the distracted vendors, and deftly stole a hooded shirt with Rhian’s face on it as the crowd jostled for Lion merchandise. Pulling the hood low over her head, she wove her way through the wall of shoppers, the bag with Dovey’s ball tight against her shoulder as she headed towards the blinking stall in the distance.

She passed more booths thronged with people buying phony Agatha hunting gear, while she hustled past, puffing out Rhian’s face on her chest, pretending she was his biggest fan. She was approaching Gilly’s now, the barker’s voice growing louder: “Step right up! Best tickets in tow—”

Something collided with her.

Agatha looked up to see two hulking green hobgoblins in Agatha-Vision goggles, toting full bags of Lion souvenirs. They gaped at her through their goggles . . . then slowly lowered them.

“Gaboo Agatha gabber,” said the first goblin.

“Gaboo shamima Agatha gabber,” said the second goblin.

“No no Agatha gabber,” Agatha said, pointing in the other direction. “Gaboo went that way.”

The goblins narrowed their eyes.

Agatha pointed at Rhian on her shirt. “See. King. Ooooh.”

The goblins looked at each other.

“Poot,” said the first.

“Mah poot,” said the second.

They dropped their bags and charged at her.

Facing five hundred pounds of rabid slime, Agatha plunged into the mob and shoved people in the goblins’ way like shields but the goblins rammed past them, the two creatures reaching out with stubby arms and grabbing on to Dovey’s bag—

Agatha spun around and overturned a vendor’s cart of fake crystal balls in their path, the rubber balls parroting “I see Agatha! I see Agatha!” in off-synch yelps and tripping up the goblins and half the crowd. Panting in relief, Agatha slid behind a newsstand, watching the goblins flop all over the slippery balls, while a female vendor beat them mercilessly with her shoe.

Suddenly, Agatha noticed the headlines of the Gillikin Gazette, clipped to the front of the stall:

LION SETS EXECUTION FOR “KING” TEDROS; WEDDING FESTIVITIES BEGIN TOMORROW

Agatha leaned closer, reading the article’s details about how Sophie handpicked the axe and executioner for Tedros’ beheading (a lie, thought Agatha) . . . about King Rhian’s new pen, Lionsmane, that was more trustworthy than the Storian . . .

An even bigger lie, Agatha scorned, remembering the cheap gold pens people were snapping up in the booth. The Storian told stories the Woods needed. The Storian kept the Woods alive. But if people were suddenly doubting the enchanted pen and favoring a fake one . . . then she wasn’t just fighting Rhian. She was fighting the countless minds he’d corrupted too. How was she supposed to do that?

Only there was more in this Gillikin article, Agatha realized, reading on . . . this time about Rhian’s brother, who’d supposedly been named the liege of the king . . .

Agatha studied a painting of this liege, included on the front page. Japeth, it said his name was—

Her eyes bulged.

Not just Rhian’s brother.

Rhian’s twin.

She thought back to the Lady of the Lake’s drawing.

Now she understood everything.

It wasn’t Rhian in the Snake’s mask who the Lady had kissed. It was Japeth.

There were two of them all along.

One the Lion, one the Snake.

That’s how they tricked both the Lady and Excalibur. They shared the same blood.

And yet, both the Lady and Excalibur believed that blood to be the blood of Arthur’s heir.

But even if they were twins, wouldn’t one of them have been born first? Agatha wondered. Meaning only one of them is the true heir—

Agatha shook her head. What am I saying? Those two monsters can’t possibly be Arthur’s sons. They can’t be Tedros’ brothers.

She could feel herself holding her breath . . .

Can they?

A shadow swept over her.

Agatha swiveled and saw the two goblins glowering at her, their bodies covered in welts.

The female vendor who’d beaten them was with the goblins too, staring at Agatha.

So were a hundred other people behind them, who clearly knew who she was.

“Oh. Hullo,” Agatha said.

She dashed for her life, hurtling through the crowd, but more and more people ahead were hearing the cries of the people pursuing her and started chasing her too. Trapped on the yellow road between booths, there was nowhere for her to go—

Then she saw the stall next to her.

TAMIMA’S TADPOLES!

Best Frog Breeder in the Everlands

Tadpoles. She knew a spell about tadpoles. She’d learned it at school, reading Sophie’s Evil textbooks . . .

Instantly, she veered towards the booth, diving under the fabric skirting the bottom of it and accosting the vendor, who was stewing a vat of the squiggling critters. Before the vendor could grasp what was happening, Agatha shoved her out of the way, snatched the tub of tadpoles with both hands, felt her fingerglow burn gold—

“Pustula morphica!” she gasped.

She dunked her face in.

When the goblins and other bounty hunters came rushing by, they couldn’t find Agatha in the crowd—only a soggy girl covered in red boils, stumbling away from a tadpole booth.

A few moments later, itching at her red, oozing sores, this boil-covered girl shambled up to Gilly’s Ticket Hub and its handsome young barker.

“Flight to Beauty and the Feast, please,” she said.

The man jerked back in disgust.

“Forty silver pieces,” he groused, reflexively touching his smooth cheek. “Or rather, forty silver pieces your pestilent fingers haven’t touched.”

“I don’t have any silver,” Agatha replied.

“Then give me whatever is in that bag,” he said, eyeing Dovey’s sack on her shoulder.

“Soiled diapers?” Agatha replied with a straight face.

The barker scowled. “Out of my sight before I call the Wizard Guard.”

Agatha glanced over her shoulder and saw a commotion at the tadpole booth, the vendor pointing her way—

She whipped back to the barker.

“I could pay you with a good strong sneeze, though,” she said coolly. “Feel one coming as a matter of fact. Right at your pretty little face.”

The barker raised his eyes, taking in her pocked cheeks.

“Diseased hag. You want to fly? Be my guest,” he sneered, shining a green-flamed torch into the sky, illuminating a cloud of invisible fairies, suddenly seeable in the green light. “One look at you in Sherwood Forest and they’ll put an arrow through your skull.”

As the fairies soared down on the barker’s command and scooped Agatha high into the sky, she grinned at him and the crowd of Agatha hunters rushing his booth.

“I’ll take my chances,” she said.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE come here straightaway instead of messing about in Fairyland,” Robin Hood grouched, dabbing Agatha’s boils with beer he’d soaked onto a napkin.

“It was too far to get here on foot and I wanted to find news of my friends,” said Agatha, now itching with boils and beer. “Besides, last time I was here, you said Merry Men don’t get involved in other kingdoms’ affairs, and that’s why you wouldn’t help us fight the Snake. But now you have to help or Tedros will die in six days’ time. You’re my only hope—Lancelot is dead, Merlin’s been captured, Professor Dovey and Guinevere too, and I don’t know how to reach the League of Thirteen or if they’re even still alive—”

“I knew that Rhian boy was a maggot,” Robin growled, splashing beer all over his green coat. “Stuck to Tedros’ bum like a flea: ‘My king! My king!’ Saw right through him. Anyone that servile to a king is bound to be in it for himself.” He tightened his brown cap, speared with a green feather. “Moment I heard the news I wasn’t surprised in the least.”

“Don’t lie, you goat,” snorted a ravishing black woman with long, curly hair and a flowy blue dress, flitting around the bar at Marian’s Arrow, rinsing wine cups and wiping down counters as moonlight streamed through the only window. “You told me you’d never met a ‘sturdier chap’ and that if you could, you’d steal Rhian from Tedros and induct him into the Merry Men.”

“Always go countin’ on Marian to tell us a’truth,” a deep voice said.

Robin glanced over at twelve men of various shapes, sizes, and colors wearing brown caps like Robin’s, each with a beer mug in hand, seated at tables in the otherwise deserted bar.

“First Robin brings a traitor into our ranks: that boy Kei who set the Snake free and killed three of our men,” said a towering man with a big belly, “and now he wants to bring in an evil king too?”

“This is why Marian’s Arrow is named after Marian and not him,” a dark man jeered, bowing to the woman behind the bar.

“Hear! Hear!” the men resounded, banging their mugs.

“And this is why from now on, you can pay for your drinks in my bar like everyone else,” Robin thrashed.

The Merry Men fell quiet.

“For the record, Marian’s Arrow is my bar,” Maid Marian said as she toweled a mug dry.

Robin ignored her, turning to Agatha. “King’s guard won’t step foot in Sherwood Forest. You’ll be safe here,” he said, inspecting her pustulous face, then slathering her with even more beer. “Stay with us as long as you please.”

“Stay? Didn’t you hear what I said? Rhian’s going to kill Tedros!” Agatha shot back, her face itching more than ever. “He’s captured everyone—Dot included, who freed you from jail and now needs you to do the same for her. I’m not staying here and neither are you. We need to attack the castle and rescue them!”

She heard the Merry Men murmur. A couple chuckles too.

Robin sighed. “Agatha, we’re thieves, not soldiers. Might hate the nasty, scheming rat, but Rhian has the whole of the Woods behind him and royal guards in front of him. No one can rescue your friends now, no matter how much we love Dot. Just be thankful you escaped, even if you ended up a bit mangy-looking.”

“She’s lovely as she is, you shallow twit,” Maid Marian snapped, marching towards him. “Won’t be long before you’re humpbacked and wrinkled like a prune, Robin. Who’s going to take care of you then? All the young ladies you whistle at? And what in good heavens are you doing to the poor girl? If you’re not going to help her, at least don’t make things worse.” She grabbed a red pepper shaker off a table, poured a handful of powder into her hand, and blew it straight into Agatha’s face. Agatha hacked violently, shielding her eyes with her fingers . . . which probed at her soft cheeks.

The boils were gone.

Robin gaped at Marian. “How’d you know how to do that?”

“Forest Groups at school. I did your homework on ‘Antidotes,’” said Marian.

Agatha wheezed, her throat filled with pepper. “You and I have a lot in common.”

Marian’s face fogged over. “No. Not anymore. I used to be like you. Willing to quest into the Woods and fight Evil like we were trained to do at school. But living in this Forest with Robin has changed me. Changed all of us. Turned us just as lazy and complacent as the fat cats Robin robs from.”

Robin and his men glanced at each other and shrugged.

Agatha felt tears coming. “Don’t you understand? Tedros is going to die. The real King of Camelot. King Arthur’s son. We have to save him. Together. I can’t do it alone.”

Robin met her eyes, quiet for a moment.

Then he turned to his men.

“All I need is one more man to say yes,” he spoke firmly. “If any of you wants to ride and take on the king, then we all ride as one. No man stays behind.” Robin drew a deep breath. “All in favor of joining Agatha in the fight . . . raise a hand!”

The men surveyed each other.

No one lifted a finger.

Stunned, Agatha spun to Maid Marian, whose back was turned while she put away beer mugs in the cupboard, as if Robin’s vote didn’t apply to her.

Agatha launched to her feet, staring down Robin’s men. “I get it. You came to Sherwood Forest to drink your booze and have your fun like overgrown boys. And sure, maybe you do raid the rich to give to the poor from time to time, believing it’s all the Good you need to do to avoid real responsibility. But that’s not what Good is. Good is about taking on Evil whenever it rises, no matter how inconvenient. Good is about stepping up to face the truth. And here’s the truth: there is a fake king ruling the Woods and we in this room are the only ones who can stop him. Will it be dangerous? Yes. Will we risk our lives? Yes. But Good needs a hero and ‘sorry, I have to finish my beer’ isn’t a reason to stay behind. Because if you turn a blind eye now, believing the ‘Lion’ and the ‘Snake’ are not your problem, I assure you it’s only a matter of time before they will be.” Heat rashed across her neck. “So I ask again. On behalf of King Tedros, your friend Dot, and the rest of my quest team who need you in order to stay alive, all those in favor of riding out to Camelot beside me and Robin . . .” She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. “. . . Raise your hands now.”

She opened her eyes.

No hands were raised.

None of the men could even look at her.

Agatha froze, her heart shrinking as small as a pea.

“I’ll give you a horse so you can leave in the morning,” said Robin Hood softly, avoiding eye contact too. “Ride on to someone who can help you.”

Agatha glared at him, red-faced. “Don’t you understand? There isn’t anyone else.”

She whirled to Marian for one last appeal—

But there was no one behind the bar, its namesake already gone.

WHILE THE MEN remained at Marian’s, Agatha came back to Robin’s treehouse, hoping to scrounge a few hours of rest before she left at first light.

But she couldn’t sleep.

She stashed Dovey’s bag in a corner and sat in the doorway, gazing out at the other treehouses, her legs dangling over the edge, brushed by bright purple lotus blossoms quivering in gusts. The wind upended the lanterns too, strung between the treehouses in a rainbow of colors, and forest fairies zipped about setting them right, their wings detonating red and blue like tiny jewels.

The last time Agatha was here, it had all felt so magical and safe, a protective bubble set off from the chaos of real life. But now the whole place felt callow. Insidious, even. Dark things were happening in the Woods and here in Sherwood Forest, purple lotuses luminesced and the houses still glowed bright, their doors wide open.

“I used to be like you,” Marian’s voice echoed.

Then she’d come here to be with Robin. She’d come here for love. A love that had sealed her off from the world and made time stand still. Isn’t that what true loves wanted in the end: to hide away in paradise?

After all, if she and Tedros had hidden away, they never would have had to lead Camelot. If she and Tedros had hidden away, he never would have heard her tell Sophie that he’d failed his quest as king.

They’d still have their Ever After.

They’d still have their perfect love.

Agatha let out a sigh.

No. That isn’t love.

Love isn’t locking yourselves in or hiding where everything is perfect.

Love is facing the world and its tests together, even if you fail them.

Suddenly, she felt the need to leave this place right now—to go back into the Woods, no matter how perilous—

But where would she go?

She was so used to taking care of things herself. That’s what had made her set off on her quest to find the Snake after Tedros’ coronation. She’d done it to help Tedros, of course. But she’d also done it because she trusted herself to solve problems: more than she trusted her prince or her best friend or anyone else.

Only this time, she couldn’t work alone. Not with her prince a few days from execution and the whole Woods hunting her and Sophie under Rhian’s thumb and the rest of her friends trapped in prison. If she tried to work alone, Tedros would die. That’s why she’d come here. To forge new alliances. And instead, she’d leave even more alone than before.

The wind turned cold and she glanced back, hoping to find a blanket or quilt—

Something caught her eye in the corner.

A black coat, hanging amongst a sea of green ones in the closet.

As she moved towards it, she saw it was splotched with dried blood . . .

Lancelot’s blood.

Tedros had worn the coat the night they’d come to Sherwood Forest to bury the knight along with Lady Gremlaine. He must have left it here when he’d changed clothes for their dinner at Beauty and the Feast . . .

Agatha clutched the coat in both hands and put it to her face, inhaling her prince’s warm, minty scent. For a half-second, it made her feel calm.

Then it dawned on her.

This could be the last she ever had of him.

Her heart kickstarted, that helpless feeling returning—

Then her hands felt something stiff in the coat pocket.

Agatha reached in and pulled out a stack of letters, banded together. She flipped through the first few.

DEAR GRISELLA,

I KNEW THERE’D BE UNDUE ATTENTION ON ME AT SCHOOL, BUT THIS IS ABSURD. I’VE ONLY BEEN HERE A FEW DAYS AND I’M STILL TRYING TO GET MY BEARINGS, YET EVERY EVER AND NEVER IN THE PLACE KEEPS HOUNDING ME, ASKING ME ABOUT HOW I PULLED EXCALIBUR FROM THE STONE AND WHAT BEING KING OF CAMELOT FEELS LIKE AND WHY I’M AT SCHOOL WHEN I SHOULD BE RULING MY KINGDOM. I TELL THEM THE “OFFICIAL” STORY, OF COURSE—THAT MY FATHER WENT TO THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND I WANT TO HONOR HIS LEGACY . . . BUT THE NEVERS DON’T BELIEVE ME. AT LEAST THEY DON’T KNOW THE TRUTH—THAT THE PROVISORY COUNCIL ONLY APPROVED MY CORONATION ON THE CONDITION THAT I RECEIVE A FORMAL EDUCATION (AKA HAVE TIME TO “GROW UP” BEFORE I RULE). BUT I DON’T INTEND TO TELL PEOPLE THAT MY OWN STAFF WON’T LET ME BE KING UNTIL I GRADUATE THIS PLACE. AND NOT ONLY GRADUATE, BUT GRADUATE TOP OF THE CLASS AND WITH A SUITABLE QUEEN-TO-BE PICKED OUT. I FEEL OVERWHELMED, HONESTLY. I CAN BARELY CONCENTRATE ON MY CLASSES. YESTERDAY, I BOTCHED PROFESSOR SADER’S QUIZ ON THE HISTORY OF CAMELOT. THAT’S RIGHT: I FAILED A TEST ON MY OWN KINGDOM—

DEAR GRISELLA,

THE DAYS AT SCHOOL ARE LONG AND DIFFICULT (ESPECIALLY YUBA THE GNOME’S CLASS IN THE BLUE FOREST—HE SWATS ME WITH HIS STAFF WHENEVER I MISS AN ANSWER AND I MISS PLENTY). BUT YOUR LETTERS FROM THE CASTLE HAVE GIVEN ME GREAT COMFORT AND REMIND ME OF OUR LIVES AT SIR ECTOR’S BEFORE I WAS KING, WHEN WE STARTED EACH DAY KNOWING EXACTLY WHAT WAS EXPECTED OF US—

DEAR GRISELLA,

I’VE BEEN PICKED FOR THE TRIAL BY TALE! EVEN THOUGH MY NEW FRIENDS LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE BOTH PLACED AHEAD OF ME. GUINEVERE I CAN UNDERSTAND (SHE’S BRILLIANT), BUT LANCELOT? HE’S GREAT FUN, BUT NOT THE SHARPEST SWORD IN THE ARMORY. NEEDLESS TO SAY, I’M FEELING THE SPIRIT OF COMPETITION MORE THAN EVER. IF THE NEW KING OF CAMELOT DOESN’T WIN THE TRIAL BY TALE, THE ROYAL ROT WILL BE RIDICULING ME ON THE FRONT PAGE FOR MONTHS. SPEAKING OF ROYALTY, IS EVERYTHING RUNNING SMOOTHLY AT THE CASTLE? I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM YOU IN WEEKS—

Agatha paged through more of them.

These weren’t Tedros’ letters. They were his father’s.

King Arthur must have written them when he was a first year at the School for Good. But who was Grisella? And why did Tedros have his father’s letters in his coat?

Then she noticed something stuck to the back of the last letter . . . a handwritten label . . .

Camelot Beautiful

And clipped to the label was a business card—

Agatha peered closer. Camelot Beautiful. That was the fund that Lady Gremlaine used to refurbish the castle, the one that never seemed to have any money, despite Agatha’s relentless fundraising for it. Had Tedros kept the label for a reason? And what about the business card? The only Albemarle she knew was the spectacled woodpecker that tallied ranks at the School for Good and Evil, and he certainly wasn’t a bank manager in Putsi . . .

Something rustled behind her and Agatha turned sharply.

She dropped the letters in shock.

“Hello, my dear,” said a tall woman in the doorway with wild, canary-yellow hair, an overabundance of makeup, and a leopard-print caftan billowing in the wind as she stepped off a hovering stymph into Robin’s treehouse.

“Professor Anemone!” Agatha said, gaping at her former Beautification teacher as her bird-boned vehicle flew down to the ground below. “What are you doing he—”

Then she saw Maid Marian climbing into the treehouse behind her professor.

“Emma and I were classmates at school,” Marian explained. “I sent her a crow the moment you came to Marian’s Arrow. I knew Robin and his men wouldn’t help you the way you needed. But the least I could do was find you someone who could.”

Professor Anemone rushed forward and pulled Agatha into an embrace. “The faculty’s been searching for you ever since we heard what happened. You have to understand: Clarissa kept us in the dark. Spent all her time cooped up in her office with her Quest Map and that crystal ball. She must have thought that if the teachers knew what was happening in the Woods, then the first years would find out something had gone wrong on your quests. She wouldn’t have wanted them to worry or be distracted from their work. Always thinking of her students, even at her own expense . . . Her office is still locked no matter what spells we do on it and we can’t get a hold of her Quest Map; that’s why we couldn’t find you. . . .”

Agatha teared up. She thought she’d been alone this whole time, when instead, her old teachers had been looking for her. For the briefest of moments, she felt safe again like she once had in their glass castle. “You don’t know what we’re up against, Professor. This is Evil like we’ve never seen. Evil that you don’t teach in your classes. The Lion and the Snake are working together. They have the whole Woods on their side. And we have no one on ours.”

“Yes, you do,” said Professor Anemone, pulling away and staring hard at her charge. “You see, Clarissa might believe in sheltering students, but neither I nor the rest of the teachers do. Which means the king might have the whole Woods on his side, but you have something far stronger on yours. Something that has outlasted any king. Something that has always restored the balance between Good and Evil, even in the darkest of times. Something that was born to win this fight.”

Agatha looked up at her.

Professor Anemone leaned in, her eyes glittering. “My dear Agatha . . . you have a school.”