“Whether Excalibur has a message for you,” said the wizard.
“That’s what you asked the Lady of the Lake? Not what the Snake’s face looks like or who he is or how we beat him or if he’s really my father’s son?” Tedros said, aggrieved. He stared at his mentor. “Well? What was her answer, then? What was Excalibur’s message?”
Merlin pulled a crinkled scrap of paper from his robes and handed it to him. Tedros looked down at its light, ethereal script: Unbury Me
“Rather cryptic, but at least it’s something,” Merlin sighed. “Though the more I think about it, the less I—” He suddenly noticed Tedros’ expression. “What is it?”
“My father. He said it in my dream,” said Tedros anxiously. “The same message. ‘Unbury me.’”
Merlin pulled at his beard. “Do you have any idea what it means?”
“Looking to me for wisdom already? You’ll be sorely disappointed,” said Tedros. “What’s strange, though, is both my father and Excalibur had the same message. It can’t be literal, then. If I could unbury Excalibur from the stone, I would. And my father can’t possibly want me digging up his grave. So there must be something that connects my father and the sword . . . something hidden that I have to figure out. . . .”
“And you must figure it out soon, Tedros,” Merlin pressured. “Your father and the Lady of the Lake are trying to help you. ‘Unbury me.’ Those two words are the key. You must find out what they mean. Before it’s too late.”
“But why more riddles?” Tedros asked, frustrated. “Why can’t they just tell me?”
“Perhaps answering that riddle is as much a part of your coronation test as pulling the sword,” the wizard replied. “I’m assuming you haven’t tried your hand at Excalibur since you’ve returned to the castle?”
“No. Not until the Snake is dead. I won’t feel like a king until then.”
The wizard gazed deeply at him. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who sat upon this cloud only recently, insisting you were a king by birthright. That there was no quest to be had in putting a crown that you already deserved upon your head.”
“Doesn’t feel like I’ve come a long way,” Tedros replied glumly. “Snake is still loose. Lance is dead.”
“Let me ask you a question,” said Merlin. “When you looked into the Snake’s eyes, did you see a brother?”
“No. I saw pure darkness,” said Tedros. “Loathing and fury like I’ve never witnessed before. Not even in Rafal or Aric or Evelyn Sader or . . . anyone. How could someone hate me so much? Why?”
“And yet he didn’t kill you.”
Tedros looked at him. “Maybe he wants to kill me in pieces. By killing everyone I love first. By murdering everyone I’m supposed to protect. By shoving my failures in my face.”
“Is he succeeding?” Merlin asked.
The young king didn’t answer. Finally, he looked at the wizard. “If I didn’t have Rhian, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Merlin smiled. “Ah. Nicola was telling me about this Rhian boy, who’s saved your lives and showed so much courage and skill. I’m not surprised, really. Foxwood boys are exceedingly well-trained. Ask him what house he was in at the Foxwood School for Boys. My old friend Brunhilde was the Housemaster of Arbed House at that school. Though he certainly won’t have been in her house—”
Tedros didn’t have time for diversions. “Listen, Agatha said something to me. That the Snake has a fake Storian. A pen that writes the story from his point of view, where he is the Lion and I am the Snake. The Snake said our Ever After isn’t real. That our fairy tale wouldn’t really end until everything that is true becomes ‘untrue.’ But that’s impossible. No one would believe I’m the Snake and he’s the Lion. Not after what he’s done.”
Merlin considered this. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my long life, it’s that every villain thinks they’re the hero of their own story. And yet it’s curious that the Snake focuses on undoing the Truth as his ultimate goal. That’s the lesson of The Lion and the Snake after all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about the original tale. The Snake said that under his reign, the Eagle would be free from his rule. Meanwhile, the Lion said that under his reign, the Eagle would have to obey him. So the Eagle naturally chooses the Snake to be king,” said Merlin. “The Snake believes he’s told the Eagle the Truth. He didn’t try to subject him to his rule, after all. He only tried to kill him. The Lion, on the other hand, believes the Snake has told a Lie—for how could the Eagle be free if the Snake tried to murder it the very same night? So what’s the true moral of the tale? Both the Lion and the Snake believe they are king. Both lay claim to the Truth. It just depends on who is telling the story. And it appears the Snake in your fairy tale thinks his version is as right and as true as yours. Only he forgets there is a third party in the story . . . a third party whose loyalty decides the fate of the king. A third party who can make all the difference between who lives and who dies at the end of this fairy tale.”
“The Eagle,” said Tedros.
“And as the Lion, you’ve found your Eagle in Rhian. A knight standing by the rightful king,” said Merlin. “Which leaves us with one question that you would do well to consider while I’m gone. The Snake thinks he’s the Lion, right?”
The wizard locked eyes with Tedros.
“So who’s his Eagle?”
He swept the cloud from under Tedros like a cape and the young king went tumbling down into the stars.
“Who’s his Eagle. . . . Who’s his Eagle. . . ,” Tedros murmured. “Who’s the Snake’s Eagle. . . .”
“Tedros?”
His eyes fluttered open.
“It’s me.”
He stirred in bed to see Agatha at the door of the guest room.
“What time is it?” he said, jolting upright.
“They’re about to serve lunch,” she said.
Tedros sighed with relief. “I’ve only been asleep a little while, then.” He noticed the purple cape was gone from beneath the sheets. He looked up at Agatha. “I was with Merlin in the Celestium. He’d visited the Lady of the—” He suddenly noticed his princess’s face, tense and unsettled. “What is it?”
“I just got back from Maker’s Market,” she said evenly.
“And?”
“I think you should come and make sure you’re happy with how army recruitment’s going.”
Tedros frowned. “But Rhian’s there. He should be handling it—”
“He is handling it,” said Agatha. “I just think you should—”
Nicola barreled through the door. “The Snake,” she gasped.
Instantly Tedros leapt out of bed, sprinting with Agatha after Nicola into the hallway and through the passage to the Blue Tower. They rushed into the dining room, past the full lunch spread, to the balcony, where all of Tedros’ team and the maids and cooks were pressed against the stone rail, staring up into the dark, storming sky.
Green scims flew over Camelot, forming a giant phantom snake like a beacon, its head rearing through dark clouds.
Screams resounded from the city and market, where the people could see it too.