One True King

by Soman Chainani

  This time, there were no tears.

  Instead, her eyes twinkled right back.

  29

  AGATHA

  Chateau Sugar East

  She’d never seen that kind of pain in Sophie’s eyes.

  Not in Gavaldon, not at school, not in the years that followed.

  Something had happened to Sophie in their time apart. Something that changed her.

  And yet, Sophie was still alive.

  Not just alive, but with an army.

  She’d found Excalibur too.

  Just like Agatha and her prince had.

  Of course she did, Agatha thought.

  She expected nothing less of her best friend.

  As if The Tale of Sophie and Agatha had never really ended, the Pen still writing their fates with inextricable symphony, even when they were apart, harmony and melody to the same score—

  A gob of snow slapped her in the face.

  The giant black rat bounded across the Frostplains, weaving between swords, kicking up icy snow, forcing Agatha to hold tighter to Tedros’ waist and duck behind his back like a shield. Her prince gripped the leash around the rat’s neck, absorbing a stinging spray of cold as he kicked the rat’s flank, driving it faster. On a second rat behind them, Anadil and Hester rode with Merlin, the boy wizard puking over the side as Anadil’s rat pulled next to Tedros.

  “It’s because you ate all that junk from your hat,” the prince chided.

  “You’re . . . not . . . my . . . dad,” Merlin wheezed, before retching again.

  “This is why I don’t like boys,” Hester growled. “Can’t go through puberty without making a mess of it.”

  “To be fair, you don’t like boys for a lot of other reasons,” said Anadil.

  “How’d you find us?” Agatha asked the witches.

  Hester nodded up at her demon, high in the blue night sky, scouting the landscape for danger. “After Shazabah, I told him to fly over the Woods and look for you two.”

  “Told her not to do it. If her demon dies, she dies,” Anadil said sourly.

  “Found them, didn’t he? And when he did, I felt it, just like you felt your rats nearby before we found them in the Woods. A little worse for wear, maybe,” said Hester, stroking the bald patches on the rat’s fur where it had been hit by camel fire, “but aren’t we all.” She turned to Agatha. “And you’re sure the sword’s at Chaddick’s house?”

  “Has to be,” said Tedros, almost to himself, still thinking about what happened in the Lady’s cave. “Only place that makes sense.”

  “And Sophie confirmed it,” Agatha said to the witches, who seemed unsettled by everything she and Tedros had told them after they retrieved their friends from Avalon.

  “Chaddick, the King,” said Anadil softly. “Doesn’t seem right, does it?”

  “Which is why Chaddick never became king,” Hester surmised. “Storian finds a way of making things right, even if its way of doing it feels all wrong.”

  Witches and Agatha looked to Tedros, gauging his emotions, but the prince kept his eyes on the icy path.

  “Are we . . . there . . . yet?” Merlin rasped—

  He puked again, waking a cluster of fireflies in the rat’s fur. They flickered slightly, then went back to sleep, exhausted from the journey and helping Agatha see Sophie.

  “Gnomeland fireflies . . . There must be some with Sophie too . . . That’s how she saw us . . . ,” Tedros said, glancing at Agatha. “Which means the gnomes know where she is . . .”

  She caught on to his thinking.

  Reaper.

  Her cat was king of the gnomes.

  The wind picked up, the rats grunting loudly, laboring against it. “Sophie found the sword. Which means she knows where Chaddick’s house is, while I don’t have a clue,” Tedros called to Hester. “Told her to meet us at Snow White’s cottage in Foxwood. First place I thought of. Been deserted since Rafal’s zombies killed the dwarves. If Sophie knows where Chaddick lived, she can take us there.”

  Agatha saw Hester and Anadil eyeing each other. “What is it?”

  “Japeth must know the sword’s in Foxwood,” said Anadil. “That’s why Lionsmane’s message disappeared.”

  “These rats are as fast as his horses,” Tedros started—

  “Japeth’s only one of your problems,” Hester cut off. “The entire Woods is sending armies to protect him until he wins the third test. We saw them on the move. Right after Lionsmane’s message vanished. Which means if the sword’s at Chaddick’s house, then there’s thousands of soldiers heading there too.”

  “Which means getting you anywhere near Foxwood will be . . . a challenge,” said Anadil.

  Agatha thought of Sophie last’s words over the firefly broadcast: “No! Foxwood’s a death trap!”

  She could feel Tedros’ muscles steel under her arms. “Whatever is waiting for us, I’ll handle it,” he said soundly.

  Agatha didn’t argue.

  Which was . . . strange.

  She was so used to being afraid for her prince, a fear that made her meddle with his quests and strain to protect him. But something had changed in Tedros ever since he’d heard the Lady’s story. His old doubts had vanished, replaced with a sureness of mission. Agatha trusted him now. Because he trusted himself. Over his shoulder, she could see the heat in his stubbled cheek, the crystal blue of his eye. His chest was proud and full, his golden curls wild in the wind. Agatha stayed silent, letting him be, the same way she’d stayed back as he’d said goodbye to the Lady at the shore of her lake. Agatha had watched their silhouettes, Tedros’ strong and straight, the Lady’s shrunken and cowed, the prince whispering to her, before the Lady’s expression suddenly changed. Something Tedros said had broken through, the darkness and pain in her beginning to lift. Behind them, her frozen lake thawed. From its silver waters the Lady drew an apple, greenest of greens, and bestowed it on the prince as a gift. It would have no magic, Agatha thought, for the sorceress’s powers were lost. But Tedros didn’t seem to care. He kissed her on the cheek, his own gift of forgiveness for the Lady’s mistakes. Gone was the anger, the secrets, all washed away. This would be the last time they’d see each other. That Agatha knew for sure. The Lady was at peace now. Her days soon over, by her own wish. But Tedros still had more days to fight for. A fight that had an uncertain end. Agatha held him tighter, hand on his chest, the apple there in the lining of his coat, firm against her prince’s heart.

  “Let’s share it,” she said. “The apple, I mean. We haven’t had anything to eat since Shazabah.”

  Tedros pulled her hand away and kissed it.

  “Where’s Dot?” he asked the witches.

  “Her mother took her to a witch doctor in Sherwood Forest to try and de-age her,” said Hester.

  “Dot’s mother knows Sherwood Forest well,” Anadil quipped.

  Agatha gave them a surprised look and Hester winked back. They’d figured it out too.

  “Her mother?” Tedros said, eyes still ahead. “Who’s Dot’s mother?”

  “Don’t worry. Not yours,” Merlin croaked, finally righting himself.

  Tedros’ head swung to the wizard boy. For a second, Agatha thought the prince might beat him up. Then Tedros burst out laughing. “Same old Merlin . . .”

  Night deepened, the sky bruising black. Still, the rats carried on, their eyes glowing in the dark, Merlin clearing swords in front of them with strikes of pink lightning, growing bigger and stronger as the young wizard gained control. Soon light cut over the iceplains with angry whipcracks, lashing out in every direction, a teenager’s chaos given full outlet to bloom, sending the ashes of Arthur’s game up in pink smoke. Then, all at once, trees encroached around them, closer, closer, trapping them in the darkness of a forest. Movement rustled in the branches, the glint of white bones and hollow eye sockets, leering down at the trespassers, before the birds reared back, letting them pass. Here in the Stymph Forest, there would be no enemy forces, since it was school territory and no one tres
passed near the School for Good and Evil without consequences. (Rafal’s zombies and Rhian’s pirates learned that lesson harshly.) Even now, it was the only part of the Woods untouched by phantom swords, as if Arthur too had known the school was beyond his power, equal and separate to Camelot. Hester’s demon returned to her neck, its job done, as the rats hurtled faster down swordless paths. Tedros’ rat pulled ahead, leaving the witches and Merlin behind. His pace was so smooth, Tedros’ back so warm and taut against Agatha’s breast, that her eyelids grew heavy. When her prince spoke at last, she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.

  “Agatha, when we get to Foxwood, I need you to make me a promise.”

  “Mmm?”

  “If anything happens to me, don’t mourn for me.”

  Now she was awake. “Tedros—”

  “Listen to me. You’re to go on. You’re to keep fighting. You’re to do what needs to be done. Don’t let what happens to me stop us from getting to The End. I’m with you in life and death.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Promise me you’ll keep going. Promise me you’ll fight on.”

  “Tedros, you and I . . . we’re one. Whatever happens to you happens to me—”

  “Promise me, Agatha.” He gripped her thigh. “Please.”

  There was such clarity in his voice, as if they couldn’t go further without her vow. How could she tell him she would never agree to such a thing? That his death would be her own? But he’d left no room for her feelings. This was the king commanding something of his princess. For the sake of his kingdom. For the greater Good. And Goodness was sacred to Agatha, even more than love.

  “I promise,” said Agatha.

  Tedros exhaled, his shoulders easing, as if her words had unchained him.

  “Will you make the same promise?” Agatha asked. “If something happens to me?”

  But now the second rat was catching up, Merlin and the witches snapping at each other.

  “You couldn’t have found a useful aging potion? Something that doesn’t work at a glacial pace?” the wizard boy was saying. “You could have gone to any witch—”

  “This was my mother’s recipe and she was a witch,” Hester retorted. “Teachers at school didn’t have anything better.”

  “Then use a library,” Merlin bit back. “There’s a thousand aging potions more effective than this one. The old me could recite them in my sleep!”

  “Then make one yourself!” Anadil scolded.

  “Your potion is so worthless I can’t remember my spells!”

  “And here I thought you’d be grateful to us for everything we’ve done for you,” Hester griped, like an aggrieved parent.

  “If it wasn’t for us, you’d still be a baby in a cave instead of here picking fights and harassing us with your mood swings,” Anadil piled on.

  The wizard boy groaned. “This is insufferable, being ganged up on by two girls who have no interest beside each other’s loyalty.”

  “That’s what a good girlfriend does,” Hester trumped.

  “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?” Anadil said, peeking back at her. “Shouldn’t that warrant some conversation?”

  “Girl friend. Two words,” said Hester.

  “That’s not what it sounded like,” said Anadil.

  “God, please let me not be a teenager much longer,” Merlin begged.

  “You want me to say ‘I love you’ like all the Everboys?” Hester baited Anadil.

  “Say it like that and I’ll cut your throat,” Anadil spat.

  Agatha could hear Tedros chuckling, the seriousness of the promise between them passed, her own question to him forgotten. She knew not to press the point. The witches’ voices faded as the rats diverged onto separate paths around a patch of trees, leaving Agatha and her prince alone.

  “I can hear you thinking back there,” Tedros teased.

  “Oh, just about all the different kinds of love,” said Agatha.

  “You mean, like what happens if Hester and Anadil get married? Does it end in a massacre instead of a dance?”

  “Only of closed-minded princes.”

  “I’ve kissed boys, turned into a girl, and am marrying you. No one can say I’m closed-minded.”

  “Funny, isn’t it? So many ways to love,” Agatha said wistfully. “You and me, me and Sophie, you and . . . Filip.”

  “I am ashamed of nothing. Other than who Filip turned out to be.”

  “Sophie did make a beautiful boy.”

  “No argument. But what good is beauty when it’s based on a lie?”

  “Sometimes your whole world seems like a lie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that nothing is as it seems here. I always have the story wrong, right when I think I’ve figured it out.”

  “It wasn’t the same in the Reader realm?”

  “Here, anything is possible. In real life, people are afraid of what they can’t understand.” Agatha thought of her mother, Callis, hunted by those who thought her a witch. “That’s why only children read fairy tales where I come from. At some point, people become afraid of life’s mysteries. With age, their lives get smaller and smaller. They judge with their fears instead of their hearts. In your world, not everyone can have a happy ending. The Pen won’t allow it. But in my world, every Man thinks they deserve one. They turn on each other when things go wrong. They try to beat back the hand of fate. And when they can’t . . . that’s when Evil is born. Real Evil. The kind that killed my mother.”

  “Sounds like Japeth would fit right in there,” said Tedros.

  Agatha held the thought in her head. “Tedros?” She looked up at her prince. “What if Japeth cheats? What if he has Chaddick’s blood hidden on him like Rhian did? What if Excalibur thinks he’s the heir?”

  Tedros smiled back at her. “I’m counting on it.”

  Agatha had no idea what he meant, but the pureness of his gaze preempted any questions, as if for once, her prince was well ahead of her. The forest opened up into a field of willow trees with silver, shimmering leaves, like Christmas tinsel, the glow of dawn pressing against the dark. Agatha looked back to see the second rat lag out of the Stymph Forest, well behind theirs. Hunger stirred in Agatha’s stomach, with no time to stop and Merlin’s hat out of reach.

  “Do you think Chaddick would have made a good king?” Tedros asked.

  “No, not really,” said Agatha. “He would always look to you.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  “Too hungry for that. Chaddick was a born knight.”

  “A loyal knight,” said Tedros.

  He paused, thinking about his friend and liege.

  “But not meant to lead,” he admitted.

  The prince and his princess fell quiet.

  Agatha kissed the back of his neck. “Can I eat your apple?”

  Tedros sighed. “Think I’m going to hang on to it a little while longer.”

  He sounded far away, Agatha’s head suddenly heavy and slow. Sleep assailed her, stronger than before, a strange powerless feeling she knew. She looked up at the willow trees, shedding silvery leaves over her like stars . . . Sleeping Willows . . . She grabbed at Tedros’ chest to warn him, her eyes closing, but he showed no signs of flagging, muscles hard and eyes flared, his will and desire fending off the spell. Agatha strained to stay awake, fists clenched, determined to protect him . . .

  The next time she blinked, it was morning, the sun bright over Foxwood.

  Her prince was gone.

  So was the rat.

  AGATHA WAS CURLED up deep under a magnolia bush, a sweet honey smell breaking through her dull senses, along with the buzz of a crowd and the crisp clanging of metal. She pried apart a bough of flowers and spotted the thin towers of Foxwood’s royal castle fanned against the horizon. But in front of that castle was a wall of soldiers, thousands of men deep, dressed in varied armor and shields, gathered under flags of different kingdoms: Kyrgios in pea green, Netherwood in glossy purple,
Hamelin in checkered yellow and orange, Akgul in red and black . . . Then, from behind, Agatha heard voices: two Akgul guards in helmets and armor, hacking through bushes with their swords, coming straight towards her.

  “Saw him myself. Prince Tedros it was,” grunted one. “Ridin’ somethin’ like a big rat.”

  “Must be with his witch friends,” guessed the second guard.

  They slashed through more bushes, getting closer and closer to Agatha. She pulled out of the bush to flee—

  —only to be yanked back.

  She spun to see Hester and Anadil, fingers to lips. Agatha started to ask something, but Anadil’s rats hissed “Shhh!” from her pocket. Hester pointed across, to Tedros and Merlin, camouflaged in a bush. Tedros mouthed to Agatha: “Don’t move.”

  The two guards eviscerated the bushes, only a few feet from Agatha’s. With fingers, Tedros counted at Hester: 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

  Merlin and Hester sprung out of the bushes, each shooting a spell at a guard. Hester’s knocked her guard out; Merlin’s didn’t, instead swelling his guard’s helmet ten sizes, so the guard bumbled inside it like a barrel, slashing his sword blindly. The boy wizard shot another spell. This one turned the guard’s sword into a ferret. Merlin tried one more, only to vanish the guard’s pants.

  “For God’s sake, Merlin,” Tedros growled.

  He punched the guard out.

  “It’s that age potion. I’m telling you,” Merlin complained.

  “Don’t even start,” said Hester, freeing the ferret into the bushes.

  A few minutes later, two soldiers in red-and-black armor crammed into the mob of armies, who were all on the lookout for Tedros of Camelot.

  “Snow White’s cottage is to the east,” Tedros whispered through his helmet.

  “It’ll be guarded too. The whole kingdom is,” Agatha whispered back. “Let’s go straight to Chaddick’s house—”

  “We don’t know where it is! That’s why we need Sophie!” said Tedros.

  Through her eyehole, Agatha spotted Merlin, Hester, and Anadil scuttling to the citizens’ checkpoint, where guards hunting for Tedros assessed them with Matchers and allowed them to pass (Merlin’s name popping up made them give the well-suited teenager a second glance, before they shrugged and let him go). Tedros knew that he and Agatha would never survive the Matchers, which is why he’d suggested sneaking through the armies and meeting the witches and Merlin at Snow White’s. But now the plan seemed foolish.