A Crystal of Time. Soman Chainani

of resentments beneath.

      “But the day will come when every kingdom in the Woods changes its tune. When every kingdom in the Woods believes in a King instead of a School, a Man instead of a Pen . . .” He stared right at Sophie, the outline of Lionsmane pulsing gold through his suit pocket like a heartbeat. “From that day, the One True King will rule forever.”

      “That day will never come,” Sophie spat.

      “Oh, it’ll come sooner than you think,” said Rhian. “Funny how a wedding can bring everyone together.”

      Sophie tensed in her chair. “If you think I’ll be your good little queen while you lie like a devil and destroy the Woods—”

      “You think I chose you because you’d be a ‘good’ queen?” Rhian chuckled. “That’s not why I chose you. I didn’t choose you at all.” He leaned forward. “The pen chose you. The pen said you’d be my queen. Just like it said I’d be king. That’s why you’re here. The pen. Though I’m beginning to question its judgment.”

      “The pen?” Sophie said, confused. “Lionsmane? Or the Storian? Which pen?”

      Rhian grinned back. “Which pen, indeed.”

      There was a twinkle in his eye, something sinister and yet familiar, and a chill rippled up Sophie’s spine. As if she had the whole story wrong yet again.

      “It doesn’t make sense. A pen can’t ‘choose’ me as your queen,” Sophie argued. “A pen can’t see the future—”

      “And yet here you are, just like it promised,” said Rhian.

      Sophie thought about something he’d said to his brother . . .

       “I know how to get what you want. What we both want.”

      “What do you really want with Camelot?” Sophie pressed. “Why are you here?”

      “You called, Your Highness?” a voice said, and a boy walked into the dining room wearing a gilded uniform, the same boy Sophie had seen evicting Chef Silkima and her staff from the castle.

      Sophie tracked him as he gave her a cursory glance, his face square-jawed, his torso pumped with muscle. He had baby-smooth cheeks and narrow, hooded eyes. Sophie’s first thought was that he was oppressively handsome. Her second thought was that he’d looked familiar when she’d noticed him in the garden, but now she was certain she’d seen him before.

      “Yes, Kei,” said Rhian, welcoming the boy into the dining room.

      Kei. Sophie’s stomach lurched. She’d spotted him with Dot at Beauty and the Feast, the magical restaurant in Sherwood Forest. Kei had been the newest member of the Merry Men. The traitor who’d broken into the Sheriff’s prison and set the Snake free.

      “Have your men found Agatha?” Rhian asked.

      Sophie’s whole body cramped.

      “Not yet, sire,” said Kei.

      Sophie slumped in relief. She’d yet to find a way to send Agatha a message. All she knew from her Quest Map was that her best friend was still on the run. Inside Sophie’s shoe, her toes curled around her gold vial, out of Rhian’s sight.

      “There is a map in the Map Room tracking Agatha’s every move,” the king said to his captain sourly. “How is it that you can’t find her?”

      “She’s moving east from Sherwood Forest, but there’s no sign of her on the ground. We’ve increased the size of the reward and recruited more mercenaries to track her, but it’s as if she’s traveling invisibly or by air.”

      “By air. Has she hitched herself to a kite?” Rhian mocked.

      “If she’s moving east, we think she’s headed towards the School for Good and Evil,” said Kei, unruffled.

      The school! Of course! Sophie held in a smile. Good girl, Aggie.

      “We’ve sent men to the school, but it appears to be surrounded by a protective shield,” Kei continued. “We’ve lost several men trying to breach it.”

      Sophie snorted.

      Rhian glanced in her direction and Sophie went mum.

      “Find a way to beat the shield,” Rhian ordered Kei. “Get your men inside that school.”

      “Yes, sire,” said Kei.

      Sophie’s skin went cold. She needed to warn Agatha. Does she still have Dovey’s crystal ball? If she did, maybe they could secretly communicate. Assuming Aggie could figure out how to use it, that is. Sophie had no idea how crystal balls worked. Plus, Dovey’s seemed to have made the Dean gravely ill . . . Still, it might be their best hope. . . .

      “One more thing,” Rhian said to Kei. “Do you have what I asked for?”

      Kei cleared his throat. “Yes, sire. Our men went from kingdom to kingdom, seeking stories worthy of Lionsmane,” he said, pulling a scroll from his pocket.

      “Go on, then,” the king responded.

      His captain peered at his scroll. “Sasan Sasanovich, a mechanic from Ooty, has invented the first portable cauldron out of dwarf-bone and demand is so high that there’s a six-month waiting list. They’re called ‘Small-drons.’” Kei looked up.

      “Small-drons,” Rhian said, with the same tone he usually reserved for Tedros’ name.

      Kei went back to the scroll. “Dieter Dieter Cabbage Eater, the nephew of Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, has been named assistant dumpling chef at Dumpy’s Dumpling House. He will be in charge of all cabbage-based dumplings.”

      Kei glanced up. Rhian’s expression hadn’t changed. Kei spoke faster now: “Homina of Putsi chased down a burglar and tied him to a tree with her babushka. . . . A maiden named Luciana created an igloo from cheese rinds in Altazarra to house the homeless from milk monsoons. . . . Thalia of Elderberry came second in the Woods-wide Weightlifting Championships after bench-pressing a family of ogres. . . . A baby son was born to a woman in Budhava after six stillbirths and years of praying. . . . Then there is—”

      “Stop,” said Rhian.

      Kei froze.

      “That woman in Budhava,” said Rhian. “What’s her name?”

      “Tsarina, Your Highness,” said Kei.

      The king paused a moment. Then he slipped open his suit jacket and Lionsmane floated out of his pocket. The golden pen twirled in the chandelier glow before it began to write in midair, gold dust trailing from its tip, as Rhian directed it with his finger.

      Tsarina of Budhava has borne a son after six stillbirths. The Lion answered her prayers.

      “Lionsmane’s first tale,” said Rhian, admiring his work.

      Sophie guffawed. “That? That’s your first fairy tale? First of all, that’s not a tale at all. It’s barely two lines. It’s a blurb. A caption. A squawk into the night—”

      “The shorter the story, the more likely people are to read it,” the king said.

      “—and second of all, you couldn’t answer a prayer if you tried,” Sophie spurned. “You had nothing to do with her son!”

      “Says your pen, maybe,” Rhian replied. “My pen says that Tsarina of Budhava didn’t have a child until I happened to take the throne. Coincidence?”

      Sophie boiled. “More lies. All you do is lie.”

      “Inspiring people is lying? Giving people hope is lying?” Rhian retorted. “In the telling of tales, it’s the message that matters.”

      “And what’s your message? That there’s no Good and Evil anymore? That there’s only you?” Sophie scoffed.

      Rhian