“Then he wouldn’t be in this predicament, would he?” said Omeida.
Tedros had enough. “I’ve seen the ledgers. The ‘Camelot Beautiful’ funds are a fraud. You took all our gold and hid it somewhere.”
“Check our pockets,” Alpa quipped.
“Give us a good frisk,” Bethna said.
“Tee hee,” Omeida giggled.
Tedros felt his ears smoldering. “If you don’t tell me where you hid it, I’ll—”
“Shouldn’t you be asking Lady Gremlaine?” Alpa mused. “She’s the one up there while we’ve been down here minding our own business. Ask her.”
“If you can find her,” said Bethna.
Her sisters snickered.
Tedros furrowed. They knew his steward had left the castle? How? She’d only been gone a few hours— Unless . . .
Kei had said Lady Gremlaine had the only other key to the prison. Had she been secretly in cahoots with these three this whole time? Had she deliberately been stonewalling Tedros meeting them? It was such an obvious idea—the advisors were the ones who’d brought her back to the castle—yet he’d never considered it until now. Lady Gremlaine had been so loyal to Camelot these past six months. Had his mother been right to mistrust Lady Gremlaine all this time? He had to find out what happened between his mother and his steward when his father was alive. . . .
“See that, Bethna? He’s thinking,” Alpa said.
“Like a candle without a flame,” Bethna piped.
“Should stick to what he’s good at,” Omeida chipped in.
“What’s that?” said Alpa quizzically.
“Nothing,” said Omeida.
The trio tittered.
“Shut up,” Tedros barked. “You set up the Camelot Beautiful fund long before Lady Gremlaine returned to the castle. You gave the orders to hide Camelot’s money in that fund. And you know exactly where that money went.”
“Indeed,” said Alpa, slouched against the bars, biting her blackened nails. “To an endeavor far beyond the comprehension of your puny pea brain.”
Tedros grabbed her by the throat through the bars, his fingers pressing into her larynx. “Tell me or I’ll kill you.”
“Touchy touchy,” Alpa wheezed.
“Even that ugly knight behaved better,” sneered Bethna, sidling beside her.
“Go ahead. Kill all of us,” said Omeida, flanking Alpa’s other side. “But it would be a very poor decision. Things are just beginning, little boy.”
“At the Four Point, the real story begins,” said Alpa.
“Four Point?” Tedros said urgently. “What about the Four Point—”
“You’ll need us when he comes,” said Bethna.
“Who? Your White Knight?” Tedros mocked. “In six months, no one has tried to rescue you. No loyal spies have tried to kill me. No one has made a peep over your arrest. So tell me, Sisters Freaks, who is coming that will make me need you?”
The sisters leaned in, grinning. “The Snake,” they hissed.
It hit Tedros like a blow to the chest. He let go of Alpa’s throat, fumbling for words: “Y-y-you know who he is—”
“Your father did too,” Alpa offered.
“That’s why he gave you your test,” said Bethna.
“A test you failed,” Omeida cracked.
They hewed together, like a three-headed serpent.
“War is coming, little boy,” Alpa crowed.
“War between the Lion and the Snake,” said Bethna.
“The winner will be the one true king,” Omeida added.
They jammed their faces between bars: “The one with Arthur’s blood.”
Tedros felt nauseous, his heart sucked into his throat. It was what the Lady of the Lake had told Sophie. The same two words.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, faking calm. “No one has Arthur’s blood besides me.”
“The Snake does,” Alpa corrected.
“You’re lying,” Tedros attacked.
Bethna yawned. “Only a half-wit confuses lying with the withholding of information.”
“Tell me, then,” Tedros pressured. “Tell me who the Snake is.”
“Tell you where the money is. Tell you who the Snake is. Tell tell tell tell,” Alpa mimicked.
“Besides, it’s obvious,” Bethna taunted.
“Staring at you right in the face,” said Alpa.
“Only you don’t want to see it,” said Omeida.
“Should we spoonfeed the poor boy?” Bethna simpered to her sisters.
“Only if he feeds us better food,” Alpa proposed, picking up a brass cup of murky water off a rusty tray in the corner of the cell. She shunted the tray towards Tedros under the cell door. It had a bowl of gruel crawling with ants.
“Done,” said Tedros.
“Ham and mashed potatoes?” said Alpa, wide-eyed.
“Done.”
“Chicken livers and wine?” said Bethna, hopefully.
“Done.”
“Caviar and rampion salad?” said Omeida, breathless.
“Done, done, done. You have my word,” Tedros hurried, his face glowing red. “Tell me who the Snake is. Now.”
“Tell him, Alpa,” Bethna sighed.
Alpa sipped her water, eyes on Tedros. Then she stalked towards him, step by step. “Should have just asked your mousy old mum. She knows everything no matter how dumb she plays,” she crooned, glaring hard. “But a deal is a deal, little boy. You want to know who has Arthur’s blood? Then listen closely. . . .”
She slipped her face through the cell bars, her nose almost touching his. “The Snake’s name is . . .”
She splashed her dirty water in his face. “Ring a king a bees will sting so dance a timba tumba!”
Her sisters screeched laughter.
“Fools,” Tedros spat, wiping his face. “You’re as crackbrained as you were when you were raving on your stoops for coins. Let’s see how you do with no food for a week!” He kicked the tray back under the bars, sending bowl and gruel flying and the women cowering. Vibrating with anger, Tedros turned for the stairs. “No one in this world has my father’s blood but me. You hear me? No one! No uncle or brother or sister—”
“Or son?”
Tedros stopped dead in his tracks. He whirled back towards the cell, staring into its dark, empty silence.
“What did you say?” he breathed.
He lit up the cell with his glow, but the sisters had flattened against opposing walls with catlike smiles.
“What did you say!” he shouted.
“Bush banana poo the panda!” sang Alpa.
The three Mistrals danced like hags around a cauldron. “Bush banana poo the panda!”
Tedros slammed the bars, yanking at the door, trying to get inside. “WHAT DID YOU SAY!”
But the three sisters just hopped and sniggered as Tedros ripped at their door the way he had his father’s sword until at last he showed his teeth through the bars— “I’m going to kill the Snake,” he vowed. “And then I’m going to kill you.”
He raged down the hall and up the stairs. Breathing fire, Tedros threw his weight against the stone door— It didn’t move.
“Kei!”
He wasn’t waiting to build an army. He wasn’t waiting for summits or wizards to be a king. He wasn’t waiting for anything anymore. He’d ride to the Four Point right now and find this Snake.
Blood pumping, Tedros pummeled the door, drowning out the cackles from the dungeons below.
Tonight the Lion would roar.
17
SOPHIE
The Map Room