“Anything you wish,” said Aric.
Japeth held his gaze. “Can I kiss you? Like we used to?”
Aric hesitated, taken aback. He stood straighter, his lips pressing together. “Oh.” He nodded with a smile. “Of course.”
Japeth’s face sharpened. “Well, in that case . . .” He stepped back just as Aric leaned in. “Let me reconsider. Because we never kissed when you were alive. Your rule.” His fingers were shiny with Aric’s blood. “The real Aric would have known that. The real Aric was ashamed of our love. Which means you must not be Aric at all. You’re exactly what you warned me about. Tedros, with the power to turn into whoever you wish. And that second Aric over there was just a trick to make me believe what you were saying—your mother, I’d bet, from her bumbling pose. She must have the genie’s magic too, a decoy made to sell me your plan. So close, Tedros. So close to getting me to give up. Only one wrinkle in your plan, arrogant prince. I have your blood on my fingers. Your genie-hexed blood with shape-shifting powers . . .”
The Snake bit his own lip, splitting it open. He licked his fingers, letting his and Aric’s blood mix.
“. . . and now that blood is in mine,” said Japeth.
Aric’s irises suddenly went blue—Tedros blue—the prince’s eyes bright with panic.
The Snake smiled at him. “Let the games begin.”
In his sky, the light snuffed out, like a door slammed shut.
24
THE STORIAN
The Agatha Quartet
Tedros had his plan.
But everyone has a plan until they’re kicked in the face.
Then the plan isn’t worth very much, is it?
But it’s not only the prince who is in danger . . .
At the moment, the Snake Sky was black-out dark. Agatha and Sophie remained huddled inside their cloud, Merlin whimpering between them. They couldn’t see Tedros anywhere. Or the Snake. Just the ragged shapes of clouds and the glint of steel-edged stars. Japeth was out there somewhere. And now with Tedros’ blood in his veins, he’d also absorbed the genie’s powers . . . the power to become anyone he wished.
“Tee Tee need help,” Merlin squeaked, eyes wet.
“Shhh,” said Sophie, but the six-year-old was distraught, blubbering louder.
“Tee Tee!” Merlin fretted, poking his head through the cloud hole. Agatha grabbed him back.
“Merlin, stay still!”
But the wizard was already lurching out of their hiding place, Agatha and Sophie scrambling with him, the little wizard wildly swishing his hand—
The sky flooded with blazing white light, like a storm paused during a lightning strike.
“Tee Tee!” Merlin smiled with relief.
Then his smile vanished.
Because there were three Tedroses in the lit-up sky.
On three different clouds.
Each armed with a sharp-bladed star from the sky.
“Aggie . . . what’s happening . . . ,” Sophie croaked.
“One is Tedros. One must be Guinevere,” said Agatha, pale with terror. “So the third is . . .”
Merlin gaped at the two girls. “Hiss.”
All three Tedroses looked at each other. Then at Agatha.
Instantly, they sprinted for her.
“Agatha, it’s me!” cried one.
“No, it’s me!” yelled the second.
“Don’t listen to them!” shouted the third.
Three princes with gem-blue eyes, golden waves of hair, and a torn black cloak. Each as Tedros as the other.
“Which one’s real?” Sophie gasped.
But Agatha was already running, diving off her cloud and burying into one far below. Sunk in cold green puffs, she closed her eyes and tried to focus. In that split second, she’d scouted the Tedroses closely. The way they carried themselves, the way they targeted her . . . The real Tedros wanted to protect her; the Snake’s Tedros wanted to kill her; while Guinevere had surely taken Tedros’ form to throw off the Snake. And yet, they all looked the same. Sounds of chaos echoed above; no doubt they’d seen where she landed. She had to keep moving. But where to? Her only hope was to pick a Tedros: a two-in-three chance of being saved; a one-in-three chance of being gutted . . .
A body plunged into fluff next to her. Agatha turned to flee—
“It’s me,” Sophie panted, blinking emerald eyes, her black-feathered dress bunched in the cloud. “Stay with me. Don’t move.”
Agatha exhaled. Then her heart kick-started. “Wait . . . how do I know you’re . . .” She backed up. “What’s the name of my cat?”
“Aggie—”
“What’s its name!”
“Reaper.”
“And he’s King of the—”
“Gnomes. Agatha, listen—”
“What’s the name of the runty, bucktoothed boy in Gavaldon who was obsessed with you?”
Sophie stared at her blankly. “Ummm—”
“Stay back,” Agatha choked, crawling away, before she felt Sophie’s arm grab her. Agatha whirled around, finger lit, about to shoot a spell—
Only to see Guinevere, where Sophie had just been.
“It’s me, Agatha. I thought you’d trust me if I took Sophie’s form. Listen to me: the Snake is out there, looking like Tedros. You and I have to stick together or he’ll—”
But Agatha was in a blind panic, questioning if Guinevere was really Guinevere, her body already lunging out of the cloud and dashing into open light with no direction or plan. Guinevere chased her. “Agatha, wait!”
“You’re supposed to protect her, Mother!” one of the Tedroses barked at Guinevere veering towards Agatha.
Agatha whirled to this prince, the real Tedros . . . but then she glimpsed the other Tedros throttling from the opposite direction, closing faster, faster, the blade-sharp star raised in his hand, both Tedroses about to flying-leap onto her cloud, with Agatha trapped between them—
A third body cannonballed from above: Sophie with young Merlin piggybacked to her, crashing on top of Agatha. By the time Agatha recovered, Sophie’s dress of feathers was sweeping the two girls upwards like a black swan, away from the twin Tedroses, both princes receding and indistinguishable, before little Merlin swished his hands and doused the sky’s light.
Pure darkness reigned once more.
Sophie’s black dress magically expanded, hiding her and Agatha in a round cocoon that floated midair, while Merlin perched atop the cocoon, keeping watch.
“Please tell me it’s you,” Agatha rasped to Sophie, huddled in feathers. “The real you.”
“As real as the bran biscuits I generously made you in Gavaldon that you used to dump in your graveyard when I wasn’t looking. Listen, there’s two Tedroses. One is Teddy. One is the Snake. And yet, somehow I can’t fathom which is him. Teddy did a magnificent job playing Aric and now is doing an odious job playing himself. Maybe if Teddy had more substance or character, he’d be easier to recognize—”
“Now I know it’s you,” Agatha snapped. “Can’t Merlin tell them apart?”
“Tee Tee Tee Tee. Two Tee Tees,” a child’s voice pipped.
“That’s a no. Aggie, what’s something only Tedros would know about you? Something Japeth can’t know.”