A Crystal of Time. Soman Chainani

      “At first, I was going to come down and pretend I’d had a change of heart. That I still love you, no matter what you’ve done. But even I’m not a spry enough actress for that. The truth is, you pulled Excalibur from its stone. That makes you the king. Meanwhile, my friends are either in prison or on the run. So, I have two choices. Resist, knowing my friends will be hurt for it. Or . . . be as good a queen as I can and keep an open mind. Because I heard you say you want to be a good king. And to be a good king, you’ll need a good queen. So here are the terms. You treat me and my friends well, and I’ll be the queen you and Camelot need. Do we have a deal?”

      Rhian picked at his teeth. “You’re fond of the sound of your own voice. I can see why Tedros and every other boy dumped you.”

      Sophie went bright pink.

      “Sit down,” said the king.

      This time she did.

      A maid came in from the kitchen, carrying the next course: fish stew in a red broth. Sophie put a hand to her nose—it smelled like the goo Agatha’s mother once made—but then she saw the maid carrying it was Guinevere, a scim still sealing her lips. Sophie tried to make eye contact, then caught Rhian watching her and she quickly tasted the stew.

      “Mmmm,” she said, trying not to gag.

      “So you think that if you’re a ‘good’ queen, I’ll let your friends go,” said Rhian.

      Sophie looked up. “I never said that.”

      “And if they die?”

      “Murdering my friends will only make people doubt our love and start asking questions. That’s not how you’re going to keep the Woods on your side,” said Sophie, as Guinevere took her time refilling Rhian’s cup, clearly eavesdropping. “That said, if I show you loyalty, I hope you’ll show me loyalty in return.”

      “Define loyalty.”

      “Releasing my friends.”

      “That sounds a lot like letting them go.”

      “They can work in the castle. Under your supervision, of course. The same test you gave the maids.”

      Rhian raised a brow. “You really think I’d free a crew of enemies into my own castle?”

      “You can’t hold them in jail forever. Not if you want me to keep your secrets and play your loyal queen,” said Sophie, well-rehearsed. “And better here in the castle than out in the Woods. Besides, if you and I can come to an agreement, then they’ll come around too. They hated me in the beginning, just like they hate you.” She gave him a practiced smile.

      “And what of Tedros?” Rhian reclined, copper hair catching the light. “He’s condemned to die. The people cheered for it. You think I’ll ‘release’ him too?”

      Guinevere’s fingers shook on the pitcher, nearly spilling it.

      Sophie’s heart pumped faster as she looked up at Rhian, choosing her words carefully. What she said next could save Tedros’ life.

      “Do I think Tedros should die? No,” she said. “Do I think he should die at our wedding? No. Do I think it’s wrong? Yes. That said, you’ve announced your plans . . . and a king can’t very well take back an execution, can he?”

      Guinevere’s eyes flew to Sophie.

      “So you’ll let Tedros die, then,” said the king, skeptical.

      Sophie met his gaze firmly. “If it means saving the rest of my friends, yes. I’m not Tedros’ mother. I won’t go to the ends of the earth to save him. And like you said . . . he dumped me.”

      A raw cry sounded in Guinevere’s throat.

      Sophie kicked her under the table. Guinevere’s face changed.

      “Since you apparently have nothing to do,” Rhian said, glowering at the maid, “fetch the captain of the guard. I need to speak with him.”

      Guinevere was still searching Sophie’s eyes—

      “Shall we kill your son tonight?” Rhian spat at her.

      Guinevere ran out.

      Sophie probed at her soup, seeing her own face reflected. A drop of sweat plunked into the stew. Did Guinevere understand? If Tedros was going to survive, she needed his mother to do her part.

      Sophie looked up at the king. “So . . . we have a deal? My friends working in the castle, I mean. I could use them for the wedding—”

      Two more maids came out of the kitchens, carrying gruel lumped on brass trays as they headed towards the stairs.

      “Hold,” said Rhian.

      The maids stopped.

      “Those are for the dungeons?” he said.

      The maids nodded.

      “They can wait,” said the king, turning to Sophie. “Like I had to wait for you.”

      The maids took the trays back into the kitchen.

      Sophie stared at him.

      The king smiled as he ate. “Don’t like the soup?”

      Sophie put her spoon down. “The last chef was better. As was the last king.”

      The king stopped smiling. “I proved I’m Arthur’s true heir. I proved I’m the king. And still you side with that fake.”

      “King Arthur would never have a son like you,” Sophie blazed. “And even if he did, there’s a reason he kept you secret. He must have known how you and your brother would turn out.”

      Rhian’s face went murder-red, his hand palming his metal cup as if he might throw it at her. Then slowly the color seeped out of his cheeks and he smiled.

      “And here you thought we had a deal,” he said.

      Now it was Sophie who swallowed her fire.

      If she wanted her friends released, she had to be smart.

      She poked at her soup. “So, what did you do this afternoon?” she asked, a bit too brightly.

      “Wesley and I went to the armory and realized there isn’t an axe sharp enough to cut off Tedros’ head,” said the king, mouth full. “So we considered how many swings it would take to sever through his neck with a dull axe and whether the crowd might cheer harder for that than a clean blow.”

      “Oh. That’s nice,” Sophie croaked, feeling ill. “Anything else?”

      “Met with the Kingdom Council. A gathering of every leader in the Woods, conducted via spellcast. I assured them that as long as they support me as king, Camelot will protect their kingdoms, Good and Evil, just as I protected them from the Snake. And that I would never betray them, like Tedros did, when he helped that monster.”

      Sophie stiffened. “What?”

      “I suggested it was Tedros who likely paid the Snake and his rebels,” said Rhian, clear-eyed. “All those fundraisers his queen hosted . . . Where else could that gold have gone? Tedros must have thought that if he weakened the kingdoms around him, it would make him stronger. That’s why he has to be executed, I told the Council. Because if he is lying about being Arthur’s heir, then he could be lying about everything.”

      Sophie was speechless.

      “Of course, I personally invited all members of the Kingdom Council to the wedding festivities, beginning with the Blessing tomorrow,” Rhian went on. “Oh, almost forgot. I also proposed demolishing the School for Good and Evil, now that it no longer has its Deans or a School Master.”

      Sophie dropped her spoon.

      “They voted me down, of course. They still believe in that decrepit School. They still believe the Storian needs to be protected. The School