Sherwood Forest was the only possible place to meet this so-called Lion. For one thing, it was less than a day’s ride from Camelot. But more importantly, the Forest was a secure stronghold guarded by Robin Hood and his Merry Men, its routes so dense that the Snake or his minions couldn’t possibly attack there. Luckily, Tedros’ father had a long-standing alliance with Robin Hood, so the king and the Lion could convene safely—and privately—at Marian’s Arrow, where the door was password protected and where everyone knew the only rule of the pub: what happens inside stays inside.
Standing at the balcony, Tedros watched the twilight cast shadows on the Pool Garden. King Arthur hadn’t wanted his bedroom smelling of flowers, so he’d had the royal gardens ripped up and replaced with a landscape of reflecting pools, some small, some big, in a variety of shapes, with a maze of paths swirling around them. Tedros could remember running about as a boy in wet shorts, hopping in and out of pools, chasing his mother, who was always one step ahead of him.
The king took a deep breath, his first after the fever of the day. When the unexpected summit was over, he’d managed a quick bath and wolfed down a dinner of steak, broccoli, and sweet potatoes, pounding down double portions so he’d be ready for the ride to come. His stewards were preparing the horses with Lancelot and packing bags of provisions; Agatha’s maids, who’d been acting like headless chickens without Lady Gremlaine or Agatha to direct them, were put to work cleaning swords.
Tedros was about to close his balcony door when he noticed a shadow sitting out on the stone bench by the biggest reflecting pool. He stepped out on the terrace and walked down the steps, passing a guard stationed at the entrance. In the dark, he could hardly see the thin path around the pools.
“Hello,” he said, coming up behind the shadow.
His mother smiled up at him, barefoot on the bench.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Soon,” said Tedros, sitting beside her.
“Did you—”
“Eat? Believe it or not, if you don’t worry about me eating, I will still do it. And in sufficient quantities over the past six months to make the cooks despise me as much as the guards do. Which is . . . a lot.”
His mother sighed. “They weren’t especially fond of you as a child either.”
“Thanks, Mother,” said Tedros.
They both looked at each other and cracked up.
Slowly their laughter trailed off.
“I wish I’d been here instead of hiding with Merlin and Lance these past months,” said Guinevere. “The reason I came back to Camelot in the first place was to stop hiding after all these years. To help you be king. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”
“I’ve gotten used to not having parents, to be honest,” Tedros said.
His mother sat quietly, watching the wind sweep across the pools.
“When I’m gone, keep your eye on the guards,” said Tedros. “No one can find Kei. The guard who locked me in. The other guards say they’ve never even heard of anyone by that name. But I don’t know what’s Truth and Lies anymore. Nor do I know who to trust. If anyone tries to kill you for the bounty, you’ll have nobody to help you.”
“The price on my head is the furthest thing from my mind right now,” his mother said, dipping her foot in the pool. “But I’ve learned my lessons about trust. When I was queen, I snuck out of the castle every night for months to see Lance. I had to figure out which guards would keep my secret. In the end, I chose the wrong one. That’s how your father found out.”
Tedros glanced at her, surprised. It was the first time she’d ever talked so honestly about deceiving his father.
“Sometimes I worry about whether you know who to trust, though,” said Guinevere. “You seemed to have grown close to Lady Gremlaine while I was gone.”
Tedros flinched. She was talking about that moment in the Hall of Kings when she, Merlin, and Dovey had returned. His mother’s first image of her son after six months of being away was seeing him coddled by a woman she hated.
“I was surprised she was still in the castle,” said Guinevere briskly. “I thought you were going to fire her after the coronation.”
“I needed her, Mother,” said Tedros, heating up. “The people were revolting, there was a bounty on your head, the kingdom was falling apart. . . . I needed someone who the people had faith in. Someone who could help me. No one was here—”
“Agatha was here for you. That wasn’t enough?” said his mother.
“I was trying to protect her from all that. It’s why I kept Lady Gremlaine in the castle,” said Tedros, defensively. “When you were queen, you ran away with Lance and hid from the world. You abandoned your responsibilities for love. But I have to balance my responsibilities with love. That’s what makes me different from you. Because what Agatha and I have . . . it isn’t a mockery like whatever you had with Dad.”
Guinevere exhaled as if he’d socked her in the chest.
“It wasn’t a mockery,” she said.
“It wasn’t love. Let’s agree on that,” said Tedros. “If it were love, I wouldn’t have spent my whole life trying to figure out what love is. I wouldn’t wake up every day desperate to keep it now that I’ve found it. You can’t fathom how alone I felt, knowing my mother’s true love wasn’t my father. And every day I’m not with Agatha, that loneliness comes back. Because she’s the only person who has ever fought for me when I’m down. Everyone else just runs. You included.”
His mother said nothing.
“If it makes you feel better, you were right about Gremlaine,” Tedros mumbled. “Pretty sure she was conspiring with the advisors the whole time.”
“I doubt that,” his mother said softly, almost to herself. “As little as I care for Lady Gremlaine, she cared for the Mistral Sisters even less. If I hadn’t fired her back when I was queen, she would have made sure Arthur never brought them into the castle. So we all paid a price for our mistakes in the end.”
Tedros frowned, the plot he’d worked out in his head between Lady Gremlaine and those three hags suddenly growing fuzzy. . . .
“Do you know where she lives?” he asked. “Lady Gremlaine?”
Guinevere paused. “No.”
It was pitch-dark now, save the torchlight coming from the windows of the castle behind them. Tedros could hardly see his mother’s face anymore.
“Did the Mistrals tell you anything? About what they did with the money?” his mother asked.
“No. They hid it somewhere, though. That’s for sure.” Tedros hesitated, picking at his nails. “They did say you know more than you’re letting on. That you’re playing dumb.”
His mother pulled her toes out of the pool and slipped both feet back into her slippers, about to leave.
Tedros grabbed her shoulder. “Why did you fire Lady Gremlaine? Please. I need to know.”
Guinevere’s shadow was very still. Finally she slackened, as if there was no running from this anymore. “She grew too close to your father, Tedros. This was before you were born. Gremlaine had always been in love with him—the whole kingdom knew that—so when he came back from school with me on his arm, she absolutely loathed me. To the point that I never drank from any glass she offered, fearing it was poisoned.”