They waded into an oak glen, between more snow-buried swords, past the twin graves of Tedros’ father and Tedros’ knight, to the old Wish Fish pond.
“It’s frozen over,” said Agatha, knocking on the solid surface, the fish obscured by ice.
Tedros rankled. “Merlin, what are we doing here—”
But the young wizard was elbow-deep in his hat, rustling around, before gently extracting a single, perfect strawberry.
He laid it on the ice, seeded dimples catching the last rays of sun.
Tedros and Agatha exchanged glances. Before either could speak, a bony hand stabbed through the ice, snatching the strawberry and drawing it under. Two dark eyes glared through the hole at the boy wizard. Then they widened, recognizing him. Merlin winked. The Lady of the Lake held her stare . . . then vanished beneath, the ice resealing.
The prince and his friends were alone again, swords surrounding them, the snow hard and wet under their knees. Silence misted through the glen.
“So,” said Tedros. “That was helpf—”
By the time he finished his sentence, they were someplace else.
A WHITE STONE tunnel.
They’d magically reappeared between cold, cramped walls.
“I know this place. It’s her castle,” Agatha remembered. “Sophie and I were trapped here once.”
Tedros had never been inside the Lady of the Lake’s lair. Neither had Merlin, from the way the boy was probing around the tunnel. The few times Tedros had seen the castle within Avalon’s gates, he’d taken note of its smooth white stone, laced with vines of bright green apples, the castle free from any doors or openings. Only the Lady could grant permission to enter. Yet the Lady was nowhere to be found.
“Which way do we go?” said Tedros.
They were at a fork in the passage. Four routes they could take.
“This way,” said Merlin, crouching on the floor.
Agatha shined her fingerglow where he was pointing.
Strawberry juice, dripping to the east.
They followed the trail down a maze of damp, chilly corridors, halting at a dead-end wall. Only it wasn’t a dead end, Tedros saw now. The wall had been propped open like a hidden door, smoky light spilling through.
Agatha took a deep breath, as if she knew precisely where they’d been led. Tedros and Merlin followed her inside.
The Lady of the Lake was crouched against the wide rim of a cave, opening to a view of Avalon’s coast. Swords dotted these snow-soaked shores, the sunset glow of Lionsmane’s message reflected in the Savage Sea. The Lady watched the waves, her hands under her chin, her thighs drawn to her chest. White coils of hair matted her skull, her face a shriveled mask.
“Every king or queen who wanted something from me brought me gold and silks and the rarest of jewels. But not you, Merlin. All those years ago. You brought me a strawberry. Me, the Woods’ most powerful sorceress, who lives on the dew of the wind.”
The young wizard smiled. “Just because you don’t need something to live—”
“—doesn’t mean it’s not worth tasting,” the Lady finished, turning to him. “How bold you were. I thought you’d come to set me free. To love me for who I am, instead of what I can give. One kiss was all I asked, a kiss of true love . . . But you too wanted something. You asked that I watch over your young ward who had become king. That I help Arthur if he came to me for protection.” She took in the wizard’s moppy hair and rosy cheeks. “But now look at you. Younger than even that king was, with your old wisdom intact. However you’ve managed it . . . I’d make a deal with that devil.”
“You already have. The same devil who kissed you and stole your magic,” the boy wizard cut back. “He is responsible for what I am now. And you know full well, Nimue.” Merlin glared through her. “Any deal made with that devil must be undone.”
Nimue. It was the first time Tedros had heard the Lady of the Lake called by a name.
She returned a fake, rotted smile. “I can’t undo anything, remember? No magic. A few powers are still left, of course. I am a born sorceress, after all. Until I use my Wizard Wish and take leave of this world. That day is coming . . . ’Til then, I have nothing to help you or anyone else. It’s a relief. No more visitors asking to see the future. No princes and wizards lurking in my realm to get something from me.”
“That’s not why we’re here—” Tedros said.
“Liar,” the Lady flamed. “You want to find the sword. The sword I made for your father. The sword he left for a king. And you want to know if you are that king. Except I cannot tell you, dear prince. The future I showed your father has many possibilities. But only that. Possibilities. The rest is your fate to find out.”
Tedros’ legs jellied. He could hear Agatha holding her breath. Merlin, too, looked startled.
“Possibilities,” said Tedros carefully. “Possibilities you showed my father.”
The Lady gazed out at the herd of red-orange clouds. “When I looked into your father’s eyes, I saw a kindred soul. A soul blessed with great power and yet hungering for real love. At first, I thought he might be the one to set me free. But just as Aladdin saw a genie only as a path to a throne, Arthur saw me only as a means to protect his. But I believed in Arthur’s goodness. It’s why I gave him Excalibur, so that he could defeat any enemy from the outside. Little did I know the true enemies in Arthur’s life would come from within.”
She paused, the sun sliding deeper into the sea.
“One evening, after Guinevere and Merlin had deserted him, he came to me, looking nothing like himself. His hair was wild, his eyes frenzied, his breath smelling of drink. He’d made a mistake, he told me. A mistake long ago that he thought had no consequences. But someone had come to his court who’d suggested otherwise . . . a Green Knight who Arthur then killed . . . Even so, Arthur was afraid others might know what the Knight did. That Arthur’s secret would come to light and destroy not only him but his kingdom and those he loved. He needed to see what would happen. He needed to see the future, so that he could fend off any harm that might be done . . . He’d already gone to the School for Good and Evil, to his friend August Sader, but a seer like Sader cannot answer questions of what is to come, not without losing decades of life as punishment. Desperate, Arthur went to the School Master too, asking if the famed wizard had a spell or a crystal ball that might reveal the future. The School Master offered no answers and yet seemed amused, Arthur recalled, as if he knew precisely what disturbed the king . . . But then, Arthur noticed the Storian behind the School Master’s back. The Storian that was telling King Arthur’s tale at the time—a pen that Arthur and his new advisors believed responsible for the downturns in the king’s fate. Indeed, Arthur had been considering ousting the Storian and taking its powers for himself as One True King. Except now the enchanted pen was writing something behind the School Master’s back . . . something only the king could see . . . ‘Ask the Lady.’ By the time the School Master had turned, the words had vanished. Arthur was stunned, of course. The Storian doesn’t address the reader. The Storian doesn’t jump ahead. And yet, now it had, as if the story was trying to lead him . . . So he came to me, just as the Pen told him, asking to see the future. I didn’t question the Storian’s orders; I knew the Pen did not write out of turn without good reason. I pulled an apple from my breast, greenest of greens, and told the king any question he asked would be answered with a bite. I am not a seer, of course. But the Storian knew my power: to see all the routes a story might take, like an eagle from above . . . Arthur spoke his question out loud: ‘Who will have my throne?’ He bit into my apple. The future flashed through his mind. All the futures. All the possible answers to his question, like a wizard tree bloomed from a single fruit, his eyes filling with surprise, regret, terror . . . and hope. That is what I remember most. That delicate look in his eyes, two gleaming pearls of hope.”