“But loafing around on a cloud isn’t going to solve the problem either,” he said, sitting up.
“You’re forgetting the most important thing Merlin said. He said it isn’t only our quest that’s run into trouble. It’s our whole class.”
“That would explain all those strange attacks in the Woods,” said Tedros. “So you think whoever is messing up their quests is messing up ours too?”
“Maybe Merlin’s two theories are actually one,” Agatha nodded. “The King of Camelot is supposed to be the leader of the Woods. If something Evil is happening out there, you have to go and find it. You have to figure out what—or who—is disrupting our missions and set things right again. Maybe then you’ll be able to pull the sword loose. Maybe that’s your real quest.”
Tedros’ face glowed with hope . . . then dimmed. “Agatha, a king can’t just desert his people and go questing in the Woods. Not when they already doubt me. Who knows how long I’d be out there? Look what became of this place while I was gone at school. Total chaos. Even if my reign has begun badly, if something happened to me, Camelot would end up in the wrong hands again. Maybe forever this time.” He shook his head. “I can’t go.”
“But I can,” Agatha jumped in, as if she’d known this would be their conclusion.
“Agatha, I asked you for help. Not to take over my test,” said Tedros impatiently. “You heard Merlin. This isn’t your quest. It’s mine.”
“And my quest is to be your queen. Helping seal your place as king is more worthy of a queen’s attention than picking frosting for our cake. All I need is a few knights for the journey. Chaddick will be back any day with a new fleet for your Round Table—”
“He hasn’t answered my letters in weeks,” Tedros said. Then his face changed. “You don’t think something went wrong on his quest too?”
“Even more reason for me to go, then, and to go right away,” Agatha replied. “I need to find out what’s stopping all of us from fulfilling our missions, Good and Evil. This is as much my test as it is yours, Tedros. You’re not in this alone anymore.”
Tedros saw the steely resolve in her big brown eyes and suddenly he knew that if he didn’t let her go, she would go on her own.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to butt in,” he muttered.
“We’re going to be married soon, Tedros,” Agatha reminded him. “I’m supposed to butt in.”
Tedros said nothing, picking at his shorts. “So how long would you be gone?”
“A few weeks. I’ll send you letters each night.”
“A few weeks in the Woods . . . alone?”
“But I’d see all our friends again,” Agatha pressured. “And it would mean I can get away from Lady Gremlaine.”
Tedros bit his lip, as if he couldn’t deny her such a pleasure. “Even so, it’s too dangerous,” he said, shaking his head.
“I survived Aric. I can survive anything.”
Tedros grimaced at the name of Lady Lesso’s sadistic son. “Questing in the Woods alone is a death sentence, Agatha—”
“Then I’ll take someone with me. Like . . . Willam.”
“Willam? The altar boy? He can’t even look me in the eye, let alone fight.”
“Do you make it a habit of looking altar boys in the eye?”
“All I’m saying is—”
“The matter’s settled. I’ll leave tonight,” Agatha declared. “And I suspect that’s what Merlin wanted all along, because he dropped a clear hint of how I could escape the castle without anyone knowing. . . .”
Baffled, Tedros started to ask what this was, but Agatha added: “The only question is who will take over wedding planning.”
She looked at him hopefully.
“You’re joking,” said Tedros. “I have enough on my plate, thank you.”
“I could hire someone.”
“With what money?”
“Someone who would do it as a favor to the kingdom.”
“And this someone would have good taste, be as invested in the wedding as you and me, manage all facets of a royal occasion that has to go off without a hitch, and also work for free?” said Tedros incredulously.
“I should think so.”
“It will take months of searching to find such a person, Agatha. If such a person even exists.”
“Mmm, not really.”
Tedros cocked his head. “You have someone in mind?”
“Do you trust me?” Agatha asked, eyes twinkling.
“You know I do.”
“And I can pick anyone I choose?”
“Of course. You’ll be queen soon.”
“Then promise me this is my choice and no one else’s.”
“I promise, but honestly—”
“Good,” said Agatha, climbing into his lap, “then I’ll pay her a visit on my first stop into the Woods.”
Tedros peered at her, mystified. “Pay who a visit? Who’s ‘she’—”
He choked.
“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMNED MIND!”
“You said it yourself. We can’t just cut her off,” Agatha replied, hands sliding up his chest.
“Not we! You!” Tedros shouted. “You think I’ll let her plan our wedding? I’d rather eat glass for a month—I’d rather drown myself in hot lava—no no no no no—”
But now she was clasping his cheeks and kissing him, long and slow, and it’d been so long since she’d kissed him that suddenly he could think of nothing else . . . only her soft lips on his and his beautiful, brilliant bride-to-be . . .
“I love you, Tedros,” she whispered.
“And I love you too,” he breathed. “But no.”
“If only a king’s promise wasn’t stronger than a prince’s,” she said, smiling like a cat.
“A promise doesn’t count if you tricked me!”
“And does that mean your trust doesn’t count either?” Agatha asked intently.
Tedros gawped at her, knowing he’d been beaten. “But . . . but . . .”
He barked with frustration and kissed her again, hard and deep, because he couldn’t possibly think about everything he’d just agreed to. He kissed her so long they ran out of air until Agatha pulled him backwards, dragging him off their perch, and they fell through clouds, the two of them still kissing, tangled in each other’s limbs like interlocked stars.
7
CHADDICK
The Liege and the Lady
He had been stabbed twice in the back and once in the flank, but he was still alive.
Concealed behind a white wall, Chaddick listened for his attacker, but all he heard was a faint crashing of waves. Blood leaked through his shirt into his lap. He felt no pain, just cold, prickly shock.
It had happened so fast.
Five minutes ago, he’d been riding his horse on the snowy shores of Avalon, searching for the entrance to the Lady of the Lake’s castle. He’d bought a map of the island from a nosy beaver, but the map only seemed to take him round in circles. At last, when he was frostbitten and ready to give up, he’d found it: towering iron doors as high as a mountain, guarded by two stone lions, concealed in shadow on either side.
He didn’t expect the gates to open for him. They opened for no man except Merlin and the King of Camelot. The stone lions would devour anyone else who tried to enter.