"Have you seen the news?"
I looked up from my position on the couch to see Japeth standing in the doorway of Rhian's study, handfuls of papers clenched in his fist.
"Which story are you talking about?" Rhian asked coolly, leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk. "The one where the Snake's body was validated as being buried in Necro Ridge? You're welcome, by the way."
Japeth crossed the room and slammed the papers down on the desk.
"I mean the one about the Snake being alive. Or the one about you conversing with the Mistral Sisters. Or the one about Sophie secretly trading for her friends' release."
"We're taking care of those, Japeth," Rhian said. "Our men are hunting the reporters as we speak—"
"What if people start actually believing this!" Japeth shouted.
"Japeth," I warned. "That's your king you're speaking to."
Japeth laughed. "Oh, that's rich."
I stood and crossed to the desk, gazing down at the reportings. "As of right now, this is seen as nothing but conspiracy by the rest of the kingdom."
"But—"
"The reporters are being hunted, as Rhian said. Besides, we have dozens of other papers printing our story—that the Snake is dead, and the Lion has come to reclaim his throne."
Japeth's jaw tensed.
I sighed. "We mustn't make a big deal of this. If we create a panic, we won't look like very reliable rulers, will we?" I said, raising a brow.
"You already look suspicious to some," Rafal said from the corner. "Why do you think the Courier is after you?"
I ignored him.
Japeth stared at me for a moment, then shook his head like a chastised dog.
"The Courier will be taken care of," Rhian said. "It's only a matter of time."
"But how much time do you have?" Rafal asked.
I shot him a look.
Japeth grumbled and wiped his temple. It was only then I realized he was bleeding.
Everywhere.
Rhian must have realized the same thing. "What happened to you?"
"Protests to support Tedros," he explained. "Put up a fight, those dogs. Could have used a king's help, but you were too busy making deals to let prisoners free." He wiped blood from his lip. "Didn't matter in the end. There was nothing left of 'em."
"Don't ignore me, darling," Rafal said softly. "I'm proud of you for everything. I am. But if you're to retain your power, you must control this Snake." He tossed a glare at Japeth. "He can't hurt the people to the point where they resist more than they already are."
I locked eyes with him.
"Go find Sophie and have her heal you, then," Rhian dismissed. "Can't have my liege all banged up for the Blessing at the Church today, can I?"
Japeth muttered something under his breath before rushing out the door.
"Y/n?"
I jumped. "Hm?"
"I asked when you were going to begin getting ready for the Blessing."
"Oh." I blinked rapidly, trying to think. "Um. . .I'm not sure. Soon, I think."
Rhian stared at me, before he followed my eyeline to the corner of the room.
"You're seeing him again, aren't you?"
"And if I was?" I shot back. "I don't see a problem with it."
Rhian shot to his feet. "You nearly lost your cool at the dinner with Sophie! If we want her to trust us, you have to get this more under control."
"I'm trying," I groaned.
"I don't understand why you can't get this through your head. Rafal is dead."
I grit my teeth.
"You think I don't know that?"
Then I turned away, wiping my eyes before he could see the tears.
Rafal smiled sadly at me.
I heard Rhian sigh behind me. "Y/n," he said, softer, his voice closer than before. "I know it's hard. Especially with you marrying me—"
"This is not a marriage," I said immediately. "This is a business partnership. There is no love between us."
"Maybe not the kind you had with Rafal," Rhian conceded, "but I do care about you. As a friend. As a partner." His voice was closer now. "I want to make sure you're okay."
I glanced down at the ring on my finger, and my eyes filled with fresh tears.
"It was supposed to be him," I choked out, voice cracking.
I turned back to Rhian.
"All of this." I glanced around the room. My lip quivered. "He was supposed to be here too."
Rhian touched my shoulder sympathetically, and that's when I broke down.
He drew me into his chest as I sobbed.
"I know," he soothed, smoothing back my hair. "I know."
Rafal was still with me by the time I had changed into a dress made of white lace and donned a diamond tiara.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"Thank you, darling," I said to the empty wall before exiting the queen's chambers, ready to get this Blessing over with.
***
I sat on the throne, Rhian atop his own to my side. He was clutching a mug as he perused a large box of green marbles, holding up each one and peering into it like a spyglass.
And we weren't alone. The Mistral Sisters lurked at the base of the steps beneath the stage, cloaked in shadow. Two pirate guards in helmets and full armor stood on either side of them. The sisters seemed tense, their bare feet twitching, as they watched Rhian gaze into each green marble in the box.
"These are the RSVPs to the wedding," he said. "Many rulers sent messages, showing me how excited their kingdoms are about their new king and queen." With a lit finger, he floated a handful of green marbles into the air, which cast smoky green projections of scenes from around the Woods: magic carpets departing in Shazabah from a station labeled "WEDDING TOURS," with mile-long lines of passengers waiting their turn; a beachside congregation in Ooty, where thousands gathered to watch Lionsmane's new tale glow against the northern lights; a fierce competition in Maidenvale to see who would represent the kingdom in the Circus of Talents.
"Every kingdom in the Endless Woods accepted the invitation," said Rhian. "Every single one."
Then he held up a red marble from the box.
"Except this one."
His eyes lowered to the three hags. "And its leader was kind enough to send a message too."
A projection leapt out of the ball in Rhian's hand, with a greasy, bearded man glaring daggers at the king.
"I'm sorry to decline your invitation, Your Highness," the Sheriff of Nottingham said, "but as long as my daughter is in your dungeons, Camelot is an enemy of Nottingham." He loomed closer in the projection. "By the way, strange coincidence, isn't it, that the man who robbed my prison and freed the Snake is now the captain of your guard. Kei's his name, isn't it? Why would he want to go freeing the Snake? Hmm? One thing I do know: you robbed me . . . and soon I'll rob you."
The message flew back into the marble, which rolled out of Rhian's hand and clinked gently into the box.
The king looked at the three sisters. "You have one job. To keep the kingdoms on our side until the wedding. All the kingdoms. And you can't even do that."
The low-voiced sister cleared her throat. "Just release Dot and the problem will disappear. Sheriff won't cause trouble once she's free."
"I agree with Alpa," said the high-pitched one. "You don't need her. Dot's dumb as a slug. That's how we sprung Japeth out of prison. By using her."
"Bethna's right," the hissy third nodded. "Nip the problem in the bud. The girl's useless to you."
I raised my brow. "I see. A leader of a kingdom threatens to attack us and you'd like to return his daughter."
The three hags shifted on bony legs like egrets.
I turned to a guard. "Send a team to kill the Sheriff. Make it look like supporters of Tedros did it." Then I gazed darkly at the sisters. "As for you, I'd think long and hard about what happens to advisors whose advice a queen no longer takes. Get out."
The three hags sunk their heads and skittered from the room. As they exited, Kei hustled in and blew past the pirate guards—
"Your Highnesses," he said. "Today's Camelot Courier."
Rhian took it from the captain, holding it so I could see the page headline:
"AGATHA SAFE AT SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL, LEADING REBEL ARMY AGAINST CAMELOT KING AND QUEEN."
"A real captain would be catching Agatha instead of giving me old news," I snapped. "Japeth's map already told me she'd made it to school. Lucky for you and your men, no one outside Camelot will believe it and you'll have her in my dungeons soon enou—" I saw Kei's expression. "What is it?"
Kei handed over two more newspapers.
"THE NOTTINGHAM NEWS: AGATHA SAFE AT SCHOOL! STIRRING A REBEL ARMY?"
"THE SHERWOOD FOREST REPORT: AGATHA LIVES! REAL QUEEN OF CAMELOT LEADING ARMY AGAINST RHIAN!"
Loud cracks detonated behind me and I turned to see a hawk rapping on the glass with its beak, a scroll in its talons and a royal collar around its neck. Then a collared crow flew up next to the hawk with its own scroll . . . then a fairy . . . then a hummingbird . . . then a winged monkey . . . all unfurling notes against the glass.
"Messages from your allies, Your Highnesses," said the guard closest to the window. "They want to know if the Blessing will be secure, given rumors of a 'rebel army.'"
Rhian bared his teeth, turning on Kei. "Catch that princess now!"
"The magical barrier around the school is stronger than we thought," Kei defended. "We've recruited the best sorcerers from other kingdoms, trying to find one who can break through."
Rhian narrowed his eyes. "You got my brother out of prison, out of the Sheriff's enchanted sack, and now you can't break into a school?" the king seethed. "You and I are a team. We've been a team since the beginning. But if you're going to be the weak link, especially after I took you back—"
Kei reddened. "Rhian, I'm trying—"
The king lifted a finger and Lionsmane flew out of his pocket and lined up in front of Kei's brown eye, the pen's razor-tip caressing his pupil like a target.
"Try harder, captain," said the king, needling the pen even closer.
Kei's voice came out strangled. "Yes, sire."
"Guards!" Rhian called, summoning Lionsmane back into hand. "Bring me Sophie."
A short while later, Sophie paced on the throne stage as we gazed at her work, glowing hot pink in midair.
"Agatha has been caught! Another traitor of Camelot, brought down by the Lion. Do not believe other reports."
"Not quite right," Sophie murmured.
Rhian and I watched her from the side of the stage steps. Hort watched her from the other.
I cocked my head, studying the weasel across the way. Back at the School for New Evil, he had been jacked with muscle. But now, since he had been occupied with his and his friends' little quest, he'd started to whittle back down to a weasel's frame.
But there was a new determination in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
Sophie turned to Rhian. "Are you sure this is wise? You said Lionsmane is supposed to rival the Storian. To 'inspire' and 'give hope.' Not be the crown's mouthpiece."
"I choose the stories. You write them," said Rhian curtly.
"Plus, the Storian reports facts," Sophie argued. "So far Lionsmane's stories have been true, distorted as they are. But this is a lie that can be found out—"
"When your dear friend Agatha is being tortured in our dungeons, we can finish this conversation," I said.
Sophie stiffened and went back to work.
"Drat's your name, isn't it?" Rhian asked, stepping next to Hort.
"It's Hort, Your Highness. And thank you for generously allowing me to serve in your castle."
"Mmhmm," said Rhian. "Though you won't serve long if you keep smelling like a sewer. Do us all some good and learn to bathe. I'm not sure that's something they teach you in fairy-tale school."
Hort clenched his teeth.
"Truth is, when Sophie chose you, I couldn't remember you at all," said Rhian. "Had to flip back through Sophie's fairy tale to see who you were. Easy to get you and Dot confused, since you're both deadweight. But you're the one who Sophie wanted free, so here you are . . . for now." The king turned to Hort, hardening to stone. "One wrong move and I'll carve out your heart."
Hort didn't give him the satisfaction of a response.
"Surprise Sophie picked you to be around us," Rhian baited Hort. "From what I read, you're the boy Y/n never wanted."
Hort locked eyes with me.
"He still loves you," said Rafal, standing beside me. "Even after all you've done."
"I don't love him," I said, still looking at Hort, my words for him as much as Rafal.
A muscle in Hort's jaw jumped before he turned back to Rhian. "Well, I'm surprised you're still alive, Your Highness."
"Oh, is that why Sophie picked you?" Rhian asked amusedly. "Because you're going to kill me?"
Hort looked at him quizzically. "No, Your Highness. I meant that Willam and Bogden predicted you'd be dead by now. That you'd have an accident before the Blessing. Saw it in their tarot cards down in the dungeons. And they're never wrong."
"Don't be ridiculous, Hort," Sophie said, turning. "Those two couldn't predict a storm if they were in the middle of one." She turned back to her work. "Oh yes, I see what's missing." She revised with her pink glow—
"Celebrate! Rogue Agatha has been caught! Yet another enemy of Camelot, brought down by the Lion. Scoff at all other reports. There is only one army: the Lion's Army. And it is made of you: the people of the Woods! Live under the Lion and you will be safe forever."
I narrowed my eyes. Something about its wording seemed off—
"There. Ready to post," Sophie said, itching at her starchy white dress. "You know, the writing process is strangely fulfilling. Challenges every part of you." She picked Rhian's mug of tea off the throne, handed it to the guard onstage, and sank down onto the golden seat. "Even if it's in the service of pure fiction."
Rhian inspected her work. Lionsmane floated out of the king's pocket, the gold pen hovering next to him, waiting for him to approve Sophie's message.
Rhian kept rereading it.
"If you think you can do better, you're welcome to try," Sophie mused.
"Just seeing if you've hidden anything inside of it," the king growled. "You know . . . like a message to your friend and her 'rebel' army."
"Yes, that's me. The Sultaness of Subterfuge," Sophie wisped. "Slipping unbreakable codes into a king's propaganda."
Rhian ignored her, still studying her words.
Sophie rose and took the mug back from the guard.
"Your tea is getting cold and I can't stand the smell," she said, walking it down to the king. "What did you make it with? Burnt leather and cow dung?"
Barely looking at her, Rhian swiped it and magically reheated the mug with his gold fingerglow, his eyes still vetting Sophie's message.
"We're going to be late," Sophie said, firing a spell at the message, gilding it in gold, before she magically shot it through the window and into the sky, where it branded against the brilliant blue.
I looked around, now noticing a missing figure. "Where's Japeth?"
"Licking his scales?" Sophie mused.
Rhian turned to the guard. "Fetch my brother, so we can ride with him." Rhian lifted his lips to his cup to take a last big swig of his tea—
I shot the teacup out of his hands with a green bolt of light.
It flew out of his hands and shattered on the throne room floor.
Rhian rounded on me. "What has gotten into you?"
"Look at the tea," I commanded, gaze never leaving his.
Slowly, his eyes moved to the mess of spilled tea and china shards.
Sitting in the puddle were two hazelnuts, clumped together with honey.
Hazelnuts that, when swallowed, would stick to the back of one's throat and prevent any air from passing through.
"I saved your life," I told the king.
Rhian's eyes flicked to mine, then to Sophie. His eyes narrowed.
"It was you."
Sophie flashed an indignant look. "Me?" She flung an arm out in the direction of the window, through which Lionsmane's message could be seen. "And here I thought I was writing your tales."
Rhian took a step forward. "I know it was you."
"Wouldn't the guard on the stage have seen it, then?" Sophie lashed. "Wouldn't my steward's slimy little eel?"
The king turned his head to the guard, who said nothing. Hort's scim gave a confused burble.
"Not to overstep my bounds, sire," said Hort, "but the real question is who made the tea."
Rhian eyed him narrowly. "Japeth brought it from the kitchens." He swiveled to a guard. "Ask him who made it. Whoever made the tea, bring them here and I'll rip out their throat—"
"I made it," said a voice.
Rhian, Hort, Sophie, and I raised our eyes.
Japeth posed in silhouette at the entrance to the Throne Room.
"And I made it exactly how you like it," he said.
"And you didn't notice something in it?" Rhian blasted. "Something big enough to kill me?"
Japeth's blue eyes chilled. "First you indulge the schoolgirl. Then you let a prisoner free. And now I'm trying to kill you with your tea."
"Accidents happen," his brother fumed. "Especially accidents that would make you king."
"That's right. Such a good sleuth," Japeth sneered. "Such a good king."
The two brothers glared daggers at each other.
"Think I'll skip this morning's festivities," said Japeth.
He exited the room, his boots clacking on tile.
A hot, wormy tension stayed behind.
"See? Willam and Bogden were right," Hort whispered to Sophie. "They said the king would die before the Blessing!"
"Don't be an imp," Sophie scoffed. "First of all, the king didn't die. Second, it was a silly accident and third, just because Willam and Bogden had a few lucky guesses, doesn't mean they're harbingers of doom—"
"Wait," said Rhian.
Hort and Sophie turned.
"Guards, bring Willam and Bogden from the dungeons," he ordered. "They'll ride with us too."
Sophie clasped her chest. "Willam and Bogden? Are you . . . sure?"
Rhian didn't answer, already stalking out of the hall.
I was still staring at the hazelnuts on the floor, now being cleaned up with the rest of the mess by a servant.
It couldn't have been an accident. Not when the nuts were perfectly put together and sealed with honey in that manner. Not when there were two people in the room who wished Rhian dead at the exact moment he drank his tea—
"Y/n!" Rhian called.
I lifted my eyes to Sophie and Hort, who were watching me intently.
I shot them a withering glare before exiting the room, heels made of black glass echoing on the floor.