A Crystal of Time

Rhian watched her with a trace of pity. “You called my story a lie, but it’s already come true. Don’t you see? Only I can save you.”

She met his eyes, trying to hold his stare.

Rhian prowled forward, his elbows on the table. “Say it.”

Sophie waited for the fight to swell inside of her . . . the witch to rear her head. . . . But this time nothing came. She looked down at the tablecloth.

“Only you can save me,” she said softly.

She saw Rhian smile, a lion enjoying his kill.

“Well, now that we’ve made our deal . . . ,” he said. “Shall we have cake?”

Sophie watched the candles in the Lion centerpiece melt wax onto their holders.

Cheap candles, she thought.

Another lie. Another bluff.

A dark flame kindled inside of her.

She still had a bluff to play of her own.

“You think I’m afraid of death? I’ve died before and that didn’t stop me,” she said, standing up. “So kill me. Let’s see if that keeps the Woods on your side. Let’s see if that makes them listen to your pen.”

She swept past him, watching Rhian’s face cloud, unprepared for her move—

“And what if I agree to your terms?” he asked.

Sophie paused, her back to him.

“One person from the dungeons that will serve as your steward, just as you asked,” he said, sounding composed again. “Anyone you like. I’ll free them to work in the castle. Under my supervision, of course. All you have to do is write Lionsmane’s tales.”

Sophie’s heart beat faster.

“Who would you pick to be freed?” Rhian asked.

Sophie turned to him.

“Tedros included?” she asked.

Rhian stretched his biceps behind his head.

“Tedros included,” he said decisively.

Sophie paused. Then she sat back down across from him.

“So I write your stories . . . and you let Tedros go,” she repeated. “Those are the terms?”

“Correct.”

Sophie watched Rhian.

Rhian watched her.

Now I know the game, she thought.

“Well, in that case . . . ,” Sophie said innocently. “I choose Hort.”

Rhian blinked.

Sophie stretched her arms behind her head and held his stunned glare.

It had been a test. A test to make her pick Tedros. A test to call her bluff and prove she could never be loyal. A test to make her his slave from this moment on.

A dirty little test he expected her to fail.

But you can’t beat Evil with Evil.

Which meant now they had a deal.

She would write his stories. Hort would be freed.

Both would be her weapons in time.

Sophie smiled at the king, her emerald eyes aglow.

“I don’t eat cake,” she said. “But tonight I’ll make an exception.”

7

(#ulink_14952609-bc57-5b20-96fa-777953837bf8)

AGATHA (#ulink_14952609-bc57-5b20-96fa-777953837bf8)

Agatha’s Army (#ulink_14952609-bc57-5b20-96fa-777953837bf8)

Straddling the spine of a stymph, her arms around her old Beautification professor, Agatha tried to see through the gaps in the canopy of branches as she flew high over the Endless Woods. Autumn was coming, leaves already losing their green.

It must be six o’clock in the morning, she thought, since it was still too dark to see the forest floor, but the sky overhead was starting to simmer with tones of gold and red.

A hand reached back holding a blue lollipop.

“Stole it just for you,” said Professor Anemone. “It’s illegal to take candy from Hansel’s Haven, as you well know, but, given present circumstances, I think we all need to break a few rules.”

Agatha lifted the lollipop from her teacher’s hand into her mouth and tasted its familiar blueberry tartness. Her first year she’d gotten detention from Professor Anemone for stealing one of these lollipops off the candied classroom walls in Hansel’s Haven (along with marshmallows, a hunk of gingerbread, and two bricks of fudge). Back then, she’d been the worst student at the School for Good and Evil. Now, three years later, she was returning to the school to lead it.

“Do they know what’s happened?” Agatha asked, watching her teacher’s lemon-yellow hair dance in the wind. “The new students, I mean.”