He approached the black pen dangling over its painting of the girls.
“But what if there was a new pen? A pen that told a different truth?”
The storybook rose into the air, tilting towards Agatha and Sophie. It began to flip backwards through pages, the captions beneath the paintings lit up in green glow.
Agatha’s heart fluttered as she saw a painting of Tedros, safe and sound, gathered with Merlin, Professor Dovey, Lancelot, and Guinevere at a dining table. But then she saw the caption—
Back at Camelot, the Snake plotted with his henchmen to keep his throne.
“The Snake?” Agatha blurted. “Tedros?”
“Henchmen?” Sophie said.
But the book had flipped back to a painting of Agatha and Sophie dragged through the pirates’ pavilion on a chain—
The two girls were led towards the castle to meet the Lion.
“You’re not the Lion—” Agatha fought.
Only there were more paintings of Tedros and more captions—
The Snake tried again and again to pull King Arthur’s sword, failing every time. . . .
The Snake stood by and did nothing as kingdoms in the Woods appealed for his help. . . .
The Snake was a coward, so he let his princess take over his quest. . . .
But now the book returned to the very first page of its fairy tale. The painting of Chaddick dead on Avalon’s shore, precisely matching the image the Storian had drawn in its book.
Except the caption was different—
Once upon a time, a Lion made its way into the Woods. Its plan was simple: take down the Snake.
The book snapped closed with a thundercrack, jolting the two girls, before it plopped onto the table.
“It’s lies,” Agatha spat. “All of it. That’s the side you’re on. Truth versus Lies. That’s what this story is about. And you’re the liar. Look at you! You’re the Snake—”
“You of all people should know better than to judge by looks,” said the Snake. “But if you listened closely, I’ve already told you how this story will end. With your fairy tale shattered and the real story laid bare. With everything you thought true turned untrue.”
“But Tedros is the Lion! You’re the villain here,” Agatha retorted. “You have the whole story backwards—”
“Says your pen. Mine says differently,” the Snake spoke calmly, using his finger like a wand and lifting the scaly black pen into the air over the stone table. Silvery smoke trailed out of its tip, playing out scenes in front of the girls. “Your pen says Cinderella is about a kind girl rescued from her wicked family; my pen says Cinderella is about a clever dowager trying to save her daughters from poverty, only to see an intruder steal the life she planned for them. Your pen says Peter Pan is about a hero who saves his friends from a lethal pirate; my pen says Peter Pan is about a brave, hook-handed captain who defends himself against the children who mutilated him. Your pen says Rapunzel is about a fair maiden seeking to escape her cruel mother; my pen says Rapunzel is about a witch promised a child as repayment for a crime, only to see a man violate the terms of agreement. . . .”
The ghostly smoke curled into the silhouette of a silver mask, blue eyes blinking beneath.
“And while your pen says The Tale of Sophie and Agatha is about two girls battling an Evil School Master . . .”
The pen’s phantom mask turned green—
“My pen says it’s about a young man’s soul traveling through generations, who finally found True Love with a girl . . . only to learn it was a Lie.”
The smoke dissipated, revealing the green-masked man behind it, his gaze on Sophie.
“I-i-it’s not possible,” Sophie sputtered. “You can’t be back—”
But from the way Agatha saw her looking at him, Sophie seemed to have no doubt he was.
“It all comes down to this. Your pen thinks I’m the Snake. My pen thinks I’m the Lion. So which pen is right?” he asked. “Yours that writes Lies?” He glared at the two girls, his black, scaly pen spinning over his black, scaly hand. . . .
“Or mine that writes the Truth?”
Instantly all the scales of his body broke apart into a thousand eels, lifting off him like puzzle pieces and suspending in midair, so that for a moment his head was separated from this fractured body. The slimy eels squirmed as they floated, with no visible heads or tails, each one identical to the Snake’s pen, which now hovered right above where his heart should be. But most startling of all were their squeals, high-pitched and knifing like the sound of amplified rats, growing louder and louder until Agatha and Sophie both cowered, shielding their ears—
In a flash, the eels went quiet and flew back into formation, rebuilding his shiny black suit.
The pen had become part of him.
The Snake loomed over the girls. “We’ll see which is right in The End, won’t we?”
From the way his eyes shimmered, Agatha knew he was smiling.
She could see Sophie’s face change: there was something here Sophie didn’t recognize . . . something that didn’t match up with her once-Evil prince. . . .
“Who are you?” Sophie breathed.
Agatha felt it too. The School Master had been Good’s greatest nemesis. But the School Master believed in the Storian. The School Master believed in its Truth. Or at least the same Truth they did. This Snake saw Lies as the Truth and Truth as Lies. For a second, Agatha was back at school, trying to reconcile two sides that once seemed so clear and were now blurring into one. . . .
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the open book, lying on the table, the painting of her and Sophie lit by green torchlight—
One of them would die today. But which one?
More Lies?
Or was it the Truth?
Danger shot up Agatha’s spine.
Get out of this room.
Get out of this room now.
But how? She could feel a word flitting through her mind like a fly, trying to get her attention. She caught it—
Plan.
“And yet you wear a mask,” Agatha challenged. “For one who speaks the ‘Truth,’ hiding your identity is rather suspicious. Unless, of course, your face is so terrible you want no one to see it.”
“I’m afraid that’s you,” the Snake threw back. “The girl who wears the mask of a queen.”
Agatha didn’t flinch, sticking to Nicola’s plan. “We can understand why you’d hide your face, of course. The Lady of the Lake showed it to Sophie. The lake waters are magic. Preserved your reflection. Sophie saw it. Said you’re the ugliest man she’s ever seen—”
The Snake’s eyes flicked to Sophie.
Sophie gawked at Agatha, as if she might be betraying her to save her own skin. But then Sophie saw her friend’s expression. Just like that, Sophie understood.
“Agatha’s right,” Sophie confirmed, pivoting to the Snake. “The Lady of the Lake said that’s why you forced her to kiss you. That’s why you drained her of magic and left her a hag. Because you like to punish beautiful girls who don’t want to be with you—”
“Lies,” the Snake hissed.
“No more Lies than your Truths,” said Agatha.