Agatha hurtled off the last steps and onto the ground floor, lunging forward after the guards. She hiked up her dress, slipping on the dusty marble, as she turned the corner into the hall, barreling towards the White Tower— Agatha stopped cold.
In the middle of the hall lay the wooden plank the guards had been carrying.
The guards were gone.
So was the Snake’s body.
Dread cut through her heart.
Slowly, Agatha looked up and saw the Snake standing at the end of the long, dark hall.
He leaned against the wall, barechested, his neck unbroken.
He watched her through his green mask.
Then he turned the corner and walked away.
Agatha stood there, frozen to the spot, blood pounding in her ears.
The Snake was alive.
Which meant Rhian hadn’t killed him.
Which meant . . .
“What could I possibly gift a knight who has given more to me and my people than I could ever ask?” Tedros’ voice echoed.
Panic hardened to clarity.
I have to get to Tedros, Agatha thought.
I have to get to Tedros now.
She ran back towards the staircase, then slid around the corner and saw a fleet of armored guards, at least twenty of them, walking up the steps towards the balcony. She was about to call out to them, thinking these guards were on Camelot’s side— Then she saw their boots beneath their steel armor.
Muddy, filthy, black.
With silver tips.
Pirate boots.
Agatha jerked behind the wall before they could spot her.
“My father felt the same way about Lancelot as I do about you,” Tedros was saying. “And he too struggled to find a gift worthy of his knight.”
I can’t get to the balcony, Agatha thought, watching the guards head that way. I have to get Tedros’ attention from below it— As the last guards climbed the staircase, she scrambled across the ground floor, through one of the doors leading into the courtyard. She flung it open. Sunlight hit her hard as she charged right into the teeming crowd, jostling past men, women, and children.
“So my father offered Sir Lancelot the world instead,” Tedros’ voice boomed above her. “The same gift I give to you today, Rhian.”
Agatha squeezed between bodies, whacking them with Dovey’s bag to get them out of the way, trying to get far enough into the crowd that Tedros could see her.
The clues had been there all along.
The way Rhian had appeared on cue to save them each time the Snake attacked.
The way he had worn the mask of the Lion as if he was playing a part.
The way the terror in the Woods had stopped once the Lion appeared.
The way the Lion had become Tedros’ new knight once the Snake killed the old ones.
The way the Snake had gotten into Camelot before the war had ever begun.
And most of all, that speech the Lion had given about the Snake in the Hall . . .
“He dared us to bring forth a hero. . . . He dared us to sire a king. . . .”
Agatha pushed people aside. Someone shoved her to the ground. But she kept moving— “Who’s his Eagle . . . ,” Tedros had mumbled in his sleep. “Who’s his Eagle. . . . Who’s the Snake’s Eagle. . . .”
Agatha knew the answer.
The Lion.
The Lion had been in league with the Snake from the beginning. The two of them playing both sides of a story, working towards the same goal.
But this Lion wasn’t just the Snake’s Eagle.
This Lion was the real Snake all along.
Agatha looked up. She was still too far under the balcony, out of Tedros’ sightline.
“My dear Rhian,” said Tedros’ voice, “I offer you anything on this earth that a king can give a man.”
Agatha sprung through bodies. She was almost there—
“I ask for only one thing,” said Rhian’s voice.
Agatha dove forward and spun around. She finally glimpsed Tedros high above her, smiling at Rhian, as if Tedros knew what Rhian was about to ask of him.
“I ask for the key around your mother’s neck,” said Rhian.
Tedros’ smile erased. He looked utterly confused. “You want the key?”
“Tedros!” Agatha shouted.
He didn’t hear her. She jammed through more bodies, trying to get closer to him—
But Guinevere had already stepped towards the knight. “He’s asking to keep your sword safe, Tedros,” she said to her son, before turning to Rhian. “You’ve saved my son again and again. Even when choosing your own gift, you think selflessly of him first when you could have asked for anything in the world. You are worthy of Lancelot’s legacy.” She took the necklace with the glass key from her own throat and held it towards Rhian. “And I can think of no one better to protect Excalibur than you, my child.”
“No!” yelled Agatha—
Rhian took the key out of Guinevere’s hands.
“TEDROS!” Agatha cried.
This time he heard her.
Tedros met her eyes from the balcony and for a moment had a cold expression, as if yet again she wasn’t standing behind him where she should be . . . as if yet again she was coming between him and his duty as a king. . . .
But then he turned and saw Rhian in the archway, already slipping the key into the lockbox.
Tedros spun back to Agatha and, suddenly, he understood. So did Merlin and Guinevere, following the king’s eyes to his princess in the crowd.
In a flash, Tedros leapt for his knight. So did Tedros’ mother and the wizard, but it was too late— Rhian seized Excalibur with both hands and pulled it smoothly, the blade sliding clean out of the stone without a sound. He turned to the crowd and thrust King Arthur’s sword towards the sun, free at last, the rays of light spearing the steel and spraying across the balcony, blinding Tedros and his court.
For Agatha, everything slowed to half speed. No one seemed to be moving. Not the crowd. Not Tedros nor their friends, who stood there like statues, the sword’s light streaked across them. Not Merlin, Guinevere, or Dovey, who each seemed unable to fathom the sight of a king’s sword in a knight’s hands. And not Sophie, who watched her betrothed brandishing the most powerful sword in the Woods, a dazed smile on her face, before that smile slowly vanished, her eyes moving to Agatha in the mob.
“I am the eldest son of King Arthur, raised in secret and returned to claim my throne,” Rhian declared, his voice as sharp as a whip. “I am the true heir to the throne of Camelot. I am the one true king come to restore this kingdom to glory.” He raised Excalibur to the people like a grail. “I am your Lion!”
For a moment, the Evers and Nevers of the Woods were quiet as a tomb, their stares shifting from Tedros to Rhian, caught between two kings.
Citizens of Camelot broke the silence first, reacting first with murmurs and boos. They grew louder, as they rallied to the defense of Arthur’s son, a son they’d known since he was a child— But then it came.
A unified roar from the masses around them.
Masses that outnumbered them, from kingdoms Good and Evil that Tedros had once ignored.
This was the ending they’d been waiting for. This was the Storian’s justice. A king for all kingdoms. A fairy tale finally complete.
“RHIAN THE KING! RHIAN THE KING!” they bellowed, madly waving their Lion masks and signs.