Japeth cursed under his breath. “Clever girl. Must have gone before we came and left her stink behind,” he snarled, his scims melding back into him. Then he tensed visibly. “The vault . . . if she got there first . . .” He was already pacing ahead. Sophie could see his hand rustling against his suit, pulling something from inside . . . a furry lump . . . moving in the dark . . .
Whatever it was, it was alive.
Sophie floated closer to get a better look. Japeth’s scim-gloved hands glinted in shadow, caressing the furry form, before he released it into midair.
The creature lit up, electric blue, phosphorescing in the dark, like the Blue Forest at midnight.
Neon glow flooded the chamber, the creature brighter than a torch in a mine, revealing rows of vault doors ahead. Sophie camouflaged herself against the wall, studying the flying rodent made of spotted fur, its body shaped like a . . . key.
The same key the Queen of Jaunt Jolie had slipped Japeth before he’d left for Putsi. The key he said he needed to win Arthur’s first test.
Vault 41. It belongs to the Four Point kingdoms, Sophie remembered. And Jaunt Jolie is one of them. So the queen’s key will open it . . . The answer to the test must be inside.
Pieces of memory returned: a scroll fallen from the sky . . . a Green Knight come to Camelot . . . something he wanted from Arthur . . . hidden where “wizard trees grow . . .”
The key peered down the corridor, assessing its surroundings. The top of the key was the creature’s head, with a big fish eye on each side instead of a hole. The shaft was its snout, ridged with teeth, and the tip the opening to its mouth.
It turned back to the Snake, blinking at its new master.
“Bhanu Bhanu,” it gibbered.
Then it flew down the hall, spotlighting gilded numbers on black doors, left and right, the numbers completely out of order . . . 28 . . . 162 . . . 43 . . . 9 . . . 210 . . . before it turned a corner and vanished.
“Bhanu Bhanu,” the key echoed, like a homing signal to track it.
Japeth followed the key’s calls, with Sophie flitting behind at a safe distance, dripping soot and trying not to cough.
She wanted to kill him.
She wanted to turn human and rip every scim off his body.
And yet . . .
What would Aggie do? Sophie mulled, thinking of her best friend, somewhere in the Woods. A best friend she’d just tried to kill at the wedding to Japeth. Sophie remembered the horror in Agatha’s eyes, seeing Sophie under the Snake’s control, manipulated into hurting those she loved. But now Sophie was free. She’d come this far. Agatha would be proud. What would she tell me to do?
Follow him, she’d say.
Follow the bastard to Vault 41.
Let him find the answer to the first test.
Then steal it from him.
Whatever was in that vault, Sophie had to get it first.
“Bhanu Bhanu,” the key blipped.
Butterfly hunted Snake now, her tiny chest beating with the power of two hearts. Right and left she flew, around bends, whisking between vaults—“Bhanu Bhanu,” “Bhanu Bhanu”—deep into the bowels of the bank, before finally catching up with the key, stopped in front of a door, a vault number gleaming in blue glow.
41
The key stabbed into the lock and yanked the door open, before zipping upwards, gluing to the ceiling, and illuminating the inside of the vault like a skylight.
Japeth swung into the chamber, Sophie’s butterfly hot on his heels. Hiding behind the open door, she poked her head over hinges.
Her bug eyes bulged.
Inside the modest room, four copper walls reflected the contents of Vault 41.
There was no gold, no jewels, no treasures.
Instead, there was a tree.
It was a white birch, rooted in the stone floor, with four spindly branches and a broad trunk, slashed with black patches. From each branch hung a small white box, like a Christmas ornament, carved with Camelot’s seal.
Japeth grazed his fingers across one of these boxes, looking for an opening . . .
A powdery substance chafed off it, as if the box was made of dust.
“I’d be careful if I was you,” said a low, smooth voice. “Human ashes are more delicate than you think.”
Japeth pulled his hand away. Sophie gawked at the four boxes, dangling from the tree.
Human ashes?
“And one more thing,” said the voice.
Suddenly, Japeth’s magical suit curdled, his army of scims crumbling to the floor, like a gameboard upended. The Snake was laid bare, save a strip around his waist.
“No magic in the vaults,” the voice finished.
It was the tree speaking, Sophie realized, its eyes and mouth formed out of the dark slashes in its bark.
“Beyond the door, you may recover your powers, whatever they may be,” said the tree to the Snake.
Quickly Sophie drew back, her wings dangerously close to crossing the plane of the door. One more inch and she would have reverted to human, with nowhere to hide.
The tree continued addressing the Snake. “If you’ve come this far, you must know this vault safeguards the ashes of Sir Kay. Or more officially, Sir Japeth Kay of Camelot, son of Sir Ector of Camelot and foster brother to King Arthur. It was Kay’s will to be cremated and Arthur’s will to protect his once-brother’s ashes, entrusting them to the Four Point leaders, who maintain this vault. None of them know that Sir Kay was the Green Knight. No one knows the truth of what happened between Arthur and his brother. But you do. You have learned what the Green Knight came to Camelot to obtain. This is what Arthur wanted his heir to know. The story behind Sir Kay’s death. The wish that led to it. Because knowledge is the first step to true power. Except the test is not yet passed. Not until you find the answer you’ve come here for.”
The tree bent its trunk towards the Snake. “Yet which bough holds this answer? Four safeboxes . . . but you only get one choice. The true heir of Arthur will feel in his blood where the answer lies. Choose the right box and its contents are yours. Choose the wrong one and . . .”
From the walls, a hundred steel spikes crashed in, slicing towards the Snake’s pale body from every direction, stopping only a hair’s width short.
The tree stared hard at Japeth. “Choose wisely.”
Without a sound, the spikes retracted into the walls.
Sophie watched as Japeth moved across the four boxes, his cold blue eyes inspecting each one. That they were made of human ashes didn’t faze him in the slightest, nor did the chill in the vault, his lean torso hunched forward as he moved between boughs.
What is he looking for? Sophie thought. What did the Green Knight want?
It didn’t matter.
Whatever it was, she couldn’t let Japeth have it.
Assuming he chose the right box, that is.
If he didn’t, well . . . problem solved.
At the moment, the latter seemed more likely. The Snake seemed no closer to choosing a box, the four casings of ash identical in every way—
Except then he paused.
The second box.
Something about it stopped him.
The Snake drew closer, his nose to the ashes.
Now Sophie spotted it: the subtle green glow pulsing at its center each time Japeth drew close.
“Oh, that is unexpected,” said the tree smoothly. “It’s not Arthur’s soul you’re kin to . . . it’s the Green Knight’s . . .”