close beneath Lionsmane. “Now two of the same blood rule over a new pen. Not for Good. Not for Evil. But for the people.”
The crowd erupted, singing the new liege’s name: “Japeth! Japeth! Japeth!”
That’s when the Snake turned and looked right into Hester’s projection, revealing his face to the imprisoned crew, as if he knew they were watching him.
Taking in the Snake’s beautiful, high-boned face for the first time, Hester’s whole body went slack.
“What was that about staying one step ahead?” she breathed to Professor Dovey.
Good’s Dean said nothing as Sir Japeth grinned back at all of them.
Then he turned and waved to the people alongside his identical twin brother, King Rhian . . .
The Lion and the Snake now lording over the Woods as one.
While the guards held her offstage, Sophie saw all of it.
The Snake becoming the Lion’s liege.
Rhian’s brother unmasked.
Lionsmane declaring war on the Storian.
The people of the Woods cheering on two frauds.
But Sophie’s mind wasn’t on King Rhian or his snake-eyed twin. Her mind was on someone else . . . the only person who mattered to her right now . . .
Agatha.
Even with Tedros set to die, at least she knew where he was. In the dungeons. Still alive. And as long as he was alive, there was hope.
But the last she’d seen of Agatha was her best friend being hunted by guards through the crowd.
Did she escape?
Was she even alive?
Tears sprung to Sophie’s eyes as she looked down at the diamond on her finger.
Once upon a time, she’d worn another ring . . . the ring of an Evil man who’d isolated her from her only real friend, just as she was now.
But that was different.
Back then, Sophie had wanted to be Evil.
Back then, Sophie had been a witch.
Marrying Rhian was supposed to be her redemption.
Marrying Rhian was supposed to be true love.
She’d thought he’d understood her. When she looked into his eyes, she’d seen someone pure, honest, and Good. Someone who acknowledged the shades of Evil in her heart and loved her for them like Agatha did.
He was gorgeous too, of course, but it wasn’t his looks that made her take his ring. It was the way he looked at her. The same way Tedros looked at Agatha. As if he could only be complete by having her love.
Two by two and four best friends. It was the perfect ending. Teddy with Aggie, Sophie with Rhian.
But Agatha had warned her: “If there’s one thing I know, Sophie . . . it’s that you and I don’t get to have perfect endings.”
She’d been right, of course. Agatha was the only person Sophie ever truly loved. She’d taken for granted that she and Aggie would be in each other’s lives forever. That their ending was safe.
But they were far away from that ending now . . . with no way back.
Four guards grabbed Sophie from behind and yanked her into the Blue Tower, their bodies reeking of onions and cider and sweat beneath their armor, their filthy nails digging into her shoulder before she finally flung out both arms and shoved them away.
“I wear the king’s ring,” Sophie seethed, smoothing her plunging pink dress. “So if you would like to retain your heads, I suggest you take your stultifying stench to the nearest baths and keep your grubby paws off me.”
One of the guards doffed his helmet, revealing sunburnt Wesley, the teenage pirate who’d tormented her in Jaunt Jolie. “King gave us orders to take yer to the Map Room. Don’t trust yer to git there on yer own, case you run like that wench Agatha did,” he sneered, flashing a squalid set of teeth. “So either we walk yer nicely like we were doin’ or we git you there a little less nice.”
The three other guards removed their helmets and Sophie came face-to-face with the pirate Thiago, bloodred carvings around his eyes; a black boy with the name “Aran” tattooed in fire on his neck; and a supremely muscular girl with shorn dark hair, piercings in her cheeks, and a lecherous glare.
“Your choice, Whiskey Woo,” growled the girl.
Sophie let them drag her.
As they goaded her through the Blue Tower rotunda, she saw a cadre of fifty workers, repainting columns with fresh Lion crests, refurbishing marble floors with Lion insignias in each tile, replacing the broken chandelier with one dangling a thousand tiny Lion heads, and switching out frayed blue chairs with spruced-up seats, the cushions embroidered with golden Lions. All remnants of King Arthur were similarly replaced, every tarnished bust and statue of the old king usurped with a buffed one of the new.
Sun sifted through the curtains, setting the circular foyer aglow, the light dancing off the new paint and polished gems. Sophie noticed three skeletal women with identical faces moving across the room in matching silk lavender robes. They handed each worker a satchel that clinked with coins, the three sisters gliding as one unit with imperious stiffness, as if they were the queens of the castle. The women saw Sophie watching them and gave her a simpering smile, bobbing together in a tight curtsy.
There was something off about them, Sophie thought. Not just their fake monkey grins and that bungled bow, like they were freak-show clones . . . but the fact that under those clean pastel robes, they weren’t wearing any shoes. As the women continued to pay workers, Sophie peered at their grimy, bare feet that looked like they belonged to chimney sweeps, not ladies of Camelot.
No doubt about it. Something was definitely off.
“I thought Camelot had no money,” Sophie said to the guards. “How are we paying for all this?”
“Beeba, say we cut her brain open, what we gonna find,” Thiago asked the girl pirate.
“Worms,”
