Quests for Glory (The School for Good and Evil: The Camelot Years #1)

“I’m here on behalf of King Tedros of Camelot,” Sophie rasped, mouth dry. “We’re looking for the Lady of the Lake. We need her help burying our friend in King Arthur’s grov—”

An old hag spun to face her, milk-white flesh hanging over bones and ruined with warts. Her teeth were rotted away and her coal-black eyes and thick peeling lips hung open in a foul, empty gape.

Sophie ate her own scream and stumbled back, bracing to run— “Wait,” the hag said.

Sophie froze.

The voice was low and husky . . . and beautiful.

It was a voice she knew.

Sophie inched back around. “It’s . . . you. You’re the Lady of the Lake—”

“I’m sorry for not letting the others see me like this, but they wouldn’t understand,” the Lady of the Lake said softly. “You are the only one who knows what it’s like to lose who you are. Except you found your way back to your true self. I never will.”

“This is permanent?” Sophie said, staggered. “But—but I saw you! Merlin brought us here to hide us in your waters. You were beautiful and magical and powerful! You didn’t look like . . . like this. . . .”

The Lady sagged deeper, glancing away. “He said he loved me . . . that if I protected him, he would save me from my eternal loneliness . . . and I believed him.”

“Chaddick?” Sophie said. “But he—”

“No,” said the Lady, her voice catching. “Not him.”

“Who, then? And what does love have to do with—”

But then Sophie remembered what the beaver had said when they started their tour . . . a tale of how the Lady of the Lake came to be. . . .

“You kissed someone,” Sophie breathed. “You lost your powers. . . . It’s why the gates to Avalon are open. . . .”

The Lady’s eyes were bloodshot and wet. “I thought he’d take me away from here. That’s why I gave him shelter.”

Sophie’s heart started hammering. “You kissed the Snake? You gave up your immortality . . . your magic . . . to kiss a monster? Do you know what he’s doing in the Woods? Do you know what he did to our friend—” She caught herself. “Wait a second. If you kissed him, that means you saw him. Without a mask. You know who he is—you saw his face—”

“And it was beautiful,” the Lady said, beginning to cry. “I know you won’t forgive me. For letting your friend die. But I had no choice.”

Sophie stared in horror. “You watched Chaddick get killed . . . and you didn’t help him?”

The Lady sobbed harder.

Blood scorched through Sophie’s veins. Once upon a time, she too had been willing to commit any Evil for love. But this was Excalibur’s maker! This was Good’s great defender!

“You watched him die! For a stupid kiss?” Sophie seethed. “You vowed to protect Camelot forever! You vowed to protect its king!”

“It’s not that simple,” the Lady stammered into her hands. “I—I—I had to protect him. Even Merlin would understand. I had no choice.”

“You keep saying that! I had a choice. You had a choice. We all have choices! And you let a boy be murdered inside Avalon! Why? Because the Snake was pretty?” Sophie snarled. “Chaddick was the liege of King Arthur’s son. Chaddick was Tedros’ knight. That is your first loyalty—”

“No,” said the Lady. “My first loyalty is to the king.”

“And Chaddick was the king’s best friend,” Sophie spat. “A king you promised to defend until the end of time. Chaddick had Tedros’ trust! Chaddick had Tedros’ faith! What does a Snake have?”

The Lady of the Lake slowly lifted her head. The light had gone out of her eyes, replaced by a cold, dead glare.

“He has Arthur’s blood,” she said.

Sophie bleached white, the voice ripped out of her. “Wh-wh-what?”

“I’ll take care of your friend as you ask,” the Lady said stonily, turning back around. “It’s the only power I still have.”

Sophie couldn’t breathe. “But—but—”

The Lady of the Lake vanished.

Shaking, Sophie whirled to the shore and saw Chaddick’s body vanish too. And all that was left in her blurred, darkening vision was Agatha in the water, flailing towards her as if her friend knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.





13


TEDROS


Like Father, Like Son


Tedros was dripping blood all over the castle and he had no idea how to stop it.

It wouldn’t have happened if he’d just stuck to the routine.

He’d gotten up at half past four to exercise in King’s Cove, but as he’d snuck his way to the basement pool, he sensed that festering dread in his stomach: the dread he’d felt ever since Agatha left a week ago.



He’d lied to Lady Gremlaine and anyone who’d asked about the future queen, saying she’d suffered a bout of homesickness and taken the Igraine to Woods Beyond to see some old friends. Luckily, the newspapers hadn’t reported any sightings of her, so he’d held firm to his story, insisting she’d return any day. He couldn’t admit the truth: that Agatha was on a quest to save his kingship, while he stayed behind like a lady-in-waiting.

On their last night together, Merlin had told them their friends’ quests were all failing and that Tedros’ own failed coronation might be part of a bigger story. Any real leader would have instantly set sail for the Woods to find this story . . . to find the villain behind it . . . but Agatha had insisted she take his place and he’d gone along with it because he was afraid to leave Camelot without a king.

At the time, he was sure that remaining at the castle was the right decision. But ever since Agatha had left, he’d been having dreams about his father again, silently glaring at him with those harsh blue eyes, eyes that Tedros had gouged out of his statue in order to stop these dreams. So why did he keep having them? Was it because his father would have never let Guinevere hijack his quest the way Tedros had let Agatha? No matter how dicey the situation at home, his father would have forcefully addressed the masses, explained the threat that faced them all, and convinced his kingdom to await his return.

Tedros had done none of those things. Instead, he’d helped Agatha escape like some piddling sidekick, distracting two guards on the bridge while Agatha boarded the Igraine with Willam, silently turned it invisible, and went off to sea.

First he’d almost gotten his mother and Lancelot killed at his coronation by ignoring everyone’s advice. And now he’d put his future queen in danger by passing off his own quest to her. Both times he’d thought it was the Good thing to do. But why did Good things keep turning bad?

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