Voices rose from next door.
Lady Gremlaine’s room.
“That’s them,” said Agatha. “Lady Gremlaine and Evelyn Sader. They’re about to come in.”
And indeed, now Tedros could hear Gremlaine’s voice on the other side of the wall—
“Only Arthur and I have the keys,” she was saying. “When he came from school with that tramp, acting like she was already queen, I tried to leave. He begged me to stay. Built this room as a place for us to meet without Guinevere knowing.”
A secret door in the wall pushed open, two figures entering from Lady Gremlaine’s room. Tedros broke into a cold sweat. Agatha had already described this scene to him, but now it was real, the prince witnessing the younger Grisella Gremlaine in lavender robes, her tan face unlined, brown hair loose to her shoulders. At her side was a hooded figure in a black cloak, gripping a knotted piece of rope in her hand. A rope that looked like it was made out of human flesh.
The spansel, Tedros thought.
Beneath the hood, he could make out Evelyn Sader’s forest-green eyes, glinting like a snake’s.
Nausea coated the prince’s throat.
“I put hemp oil in his drink like you told me to,” Lady Gremlaine said to Evelyn. “Fell straight to sleep.”
“We must move quickly, then,” said Evelyn, holding out the rope. “Place this spansel around his neck.”
Lady Gremlaine swallowed. “And then I’ll have his child?”
“That is the power of the spansel,” Evelyn replied. “Use it and you will be pregnant with King Arthur’s heir long before Guinevere marries him.”
Tedros felt light-headed, hardly able to listen.
The Evils of the present were seeded in the past. This past. Right here, in this room.
He looked up to see Lady Gremlaine standing over his father as he slept, her shoulders stiff, her lips quivering.
With a choked gasp, she spun to Evelyn and grabbed the rope into her hands. Her shadow stretched over the sleeping king, her fingers firm on the spansel. She stared down at Arthur, cheeks pink, breaths rushed, her thirst for him fighting the sin of what she was about to do. Fingers shaking, she reached the spansel for his neck.
Tedros averted his eyes, even if he knew how this played out. The idea that this was happening at all . . . that Lady Gremlaine and Evelyn Sader were in cahoots . . . that Grisella Gremlaine, his father’s once-steward and lifelong friend, had drugged him asleep and wanted to have his child—
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Tedros looked back at her.
“I can’t do it,” Lady Gremlaine sobbed. “I can’t betray him like this. I love him too much.”
She dropped the spansel and fled the room.
Tedros exhaled . . . until Evelyn Sader picked the spansel up.
His blood rushed so hard he could feel it in his teeth.
“I won’t watch this,” he said to Agatha, spinning for the door from which they came. “We have to leave—”
“This is where the Snake’s secrets led us, Tedros,” said his princess, not moving. She held him in place the way he’d held her when the Snake charged them across the desert. Each one strong for the other when they needed it.
Tedros let her hold him, his legs steadying. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to Evelyn, pulling back her hood, the spansel pinched between red-painted nails, as she skulked towards Tedros’ father. She had Rhian’s tan and Japeth’s cold leer, so clearly their mother, Tedros could see now. She smiled down at the sleeping king. Then Evelyn hooked the spansel around Arthur’s neck . . .
“This is where the scene ends,” Agatha told Tedros. “It disconnects here—”
Only it didn’t this time.
The scene continued, Evelyn releasing her hands from the spansel, leaving it noosed on the sleeping king’s throat.
Arthur’s eyes opened.
They fixed upon Evelyn Sader, his big blue pools brimming with lust.
Agatha pulled away from Tedros, her face pale.
“What’s happening?” said the prince, watching his father and Evelyn draw close.
“I—I—I don’t know,” Agatha sputtered. “I didn’t see this!”
Tedros wanted to rip the spansel off his father’s neck, to fight the horrors of the enchanted rope, but he was as powerless to stop its magic as his father had been—
From behind Tedros came a whirl of motion, flying past the prince, swinging something down—
Straight into Evelyn’s head.
She fell without a sound, onto the startled king, before she slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Arthur looked up at Lady Gremlaine, hunched over Evelyn’s crumpled body, a brass flowerpot in her hands.
Her eyes spilled tears, her face ghost-white. “I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know what she was doing . . . I had to stop her . . .”
Arthur looked startled for a moment, like a child shaken from sleep. Then his gaze set upon Lady Gremlaine, kindling with the same lust he’d just had for Evelyn—
Lady Gremlaine yanked the spansel off his neck.
Instantly, Arthur snapped out of his trance.
The young king gaped at his weeping steward . . . then at Evelyn on the floor.
Arthur lurched off the bed, backing towards the door. “What’s happening!” he panted. “Guards! Guards!”
“Arthur, I—I—I can explain,” Lady Gremlaine stammered. “It was m-m-me . . . I asked her for the spell . . . I—I—I’ll explain everything . . .”
The color went out of Arthur’s cheeks, his eyes darting between his steward and the flesh rope and the stirring body on the carpet. “Grisella . . . ,” he breathed. “What have you done?”
The room vanished, returning Tedros to the coolness of a dark passage, inside the body of a snake. His heart was leaping out of his ribs, his body vibrating with fear . . . horror . . . relief.
He glimpsed his princess’s eyes shining through the dark with the same emotions.
“Agatha . . . Arthur’s not his father.”
“Or Evelyn his mother,” she said.
Neither prince nor princess finished the thought they were both sharing, but it hung over them like a dagger.
So who are his parents?
“Tedros, look!” said Agatha.
Ahead, an emerald flare of light blinded them. Then two. A new pair of eyes. Only these were moving, racing towards them like green fireballs, a black body attached. A snake within a snake, hissing and flashing massive fangs. Tedros grabbed Agatha to run, but it was coming too fast and too big to dodge. Tedros dove, sheltering his princess with his body. The snake swallowed them whole—
Then it was muggy and hot, like a jungle in summer.
They were in Sherwood Forest.
Marian’s Arrow lay ahead, couched against lush, dewy trees, growing so wild that all the branches had wrangled around each other, giving only peeks of a red sunset.
“Another secret,” said Agatha. “Something the Snake doesn’t want us to see.”
“In Sherwood Forest?” said Tedros, dusting himself off. “What does Sherwood Forest have to do with the Snake?”
Whistles and hoots echoed behind them, along with men’s chants—
“To the three rings of marriage!
The Engagement Ring,
The Wedding Ring,
and the Suffering!”
Tedros and Agatha turned to see a parade of Merry Men, carrying a fresh-faced Arthur on their shoulders towards the Arrow, the young king wearing a donkey-skin cape and a paper crown with the word “BACHELOR” scrawled in red, while he gnawed on a charred turkey leg and responded with a chant of his own.
“Guinevere, Guinevere,
My heart, my love, my dear,
These men are just jealous
For life without you is hellish!”
The men booed.
“Can’t boo a king!” Arthur scoffed.
“In Sherwood Forest, we boo any prat who deserves it, especially kings,” said the le
ader of the pack, boyish and muscular, with strawberry-blond hair and a dashing smile. Robin Hood, Tedros realized, handsome as ever, carrying young Arthur towards the Arrow.
“It’s your last night as a single man, Arthur!” Robin crowed. “Better make good use of it!”
Tedros smiled, seeing his dad and Robin alive and together, a lump rising in the prince’s throat . . . Agatha pulled him towards the pub. “Come on. Must be a reason we’re here.”
Together, they piled into the Arrow. A boisterous party was at its peak, a dozen women to every sweaty, red-faced man, servers splashing beer and tipping plates of chicken wings, all those present chanting “LION! LION!” as soon as they spotted the king. A band of Sherwood fairies streamed through the window playing a jaunty tune on willow violins, whereby three Merry Men took to tabletops, danced a jig, and promptly fell off, before two more swung from the cheap chandelier with the same result. A gaggle of women crowded around a young Maid Marian in the corner, who gave Robin a cheeky grin, as if at once happy to see him and warning him away from other girls. He saluted Marian across the bar, like an obedient soldier.
“Sheriff was in here earlier,” one of the servers whispered to Robin. “Thought he was here to make trouble, but he wanted to talk to Marian.”
“About what?”
“Tried to listen in. Something about Marian going to visit her folks for a few months in Ginnymill?”
“Maidenvale. And yeah, I know. Leaving next week. Wait. Few months? Didn’t tell me that. What else?”
“Sheriff said he wanted to visit her there.”
Robin laughed. “Get your hearing checked, mate.”
He strutted into the mob and swung an arm around Arthur, who was dancing poorly, a chicken wing in his mouth. Robin nodded towards Marian’ friends. “Fine flock of women, Your Highness.”
But Arthur wasn’t looking at them. He was eyeing a woman at the bar, sitting alone, near a couple of brown-hooded Merry Men. A woman with long hair, tan skin, and a lavender dress. Arthur’s face tightened. “Excuse me,” he said, heading over to her.
Robin shrugged. “Bring him a pub full of women and what do you know, goes for the one he already knows.”
Tedros and Agatha were already huddling behind Arthur as he sat beside Lady Gremlaine, the prince and his princess listening close in the raucous pub.
“What are you doing here, Grisella?” Arthur asked.
His steward couldn’t look at him, her hand gripping a full glass of cider.
Arthur exhaled. “I’m assuming you followed me—”
She spun to face him, splashing her glass. “It’s been three months, Arthur. Three months you haven’t said a word to me. Every night I listen for the knock from the guest room and it never comes. And you won’t talk to me when you see me in the castle. What was I supposed to do?”
Arthur drank from her cider. “Forgive me if I haven’t come knocking, Grisella. I don’t especially feel like going into that room.”
“I know you hate me,” said Lady Gremlaine, reddening. “I know you’d have me jailed or punished or killed if you could without Guinevere finding out what I’ve done. That’s why you’re avoiding me. You’re trying to shame me out of the castle. To force me to run away. But I won’t. Not without trying to repair things between us.”
“I don’t hate you, Grisella. I just don’t know what to say to you,” said Arthur. He paused, looking at his hands. “There’s no ill will. I’m nothing but grateful. You’ve been my friend since I was six years old. When I was Wart and you were my Grizzle-Grazzle. You know me as I really am: flawed, restless, impetuous . . . and yet you never make me feel unworthy of my new place. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t feel at home in that castle. I wouldn’t feel like myself, let alone a king. And if it wasn’t for you, that Sader witch would be pregnant with my heir, instead of deep in the Woods, wherever my guards dumped her. Told her if she came within a hundred miles of Camelot, she’d be shot full of arrows at first sight. Put out word to the Kingdom Council that she wasn’t to be allowed in their lands either. Quite quickly Evelyn Sader discovered she’s no longer welcome in these Woods. Hasn’t been seen since.”
“But I was the one who brought Evelyn in! It was me who wanted to use that spell!” said Lady Gremlaine. “I wanted your child, Arthur. I was in love with you.”
“And it’s my fault that you were,” Arthur sighed. “Because I loved you too.”
Grisella stared at him. “What?”
“Boys are just better at hiding it,” Arthur said wryly. “I loved you before I even knew what love was. Maybe because deep down, you and I are the same: perfectly happy with a small, ordinary life, and yet fated for a life that’s neither of those things. Why do you think I wrote you every week during my years at school? Because you remind me of who I used to be and who I can’t be anymore. The real Arthur. You don’t know how much I missed you while I was gone, Grisella. How much I missed our old days, before I ever pulled that sword from the stone. Perhaps you sensed my love in those letters, because I sensed yours, growing stronger and stronger, and yet I kept writing you back—” A beer mug shattered somewhere, followed by a chorus of boos. Arthur took a deep breath. “But then I returned with Guinevere as my wife-to-be. How confused you must have been. Nearly four years of letters. Nearly four years of waiting for me. And then I arrive at the castle with a pretty, strong-willed Evergirl, who insults you in front of your staff at your very first meeting. No wonder you hated her. No wonder you hated each other. She must have known there were feelings between us. But it’s neither her fault, nor yours. It’s my fault for not telling you the truth.”
“That you love her more,” Grisella said starkly. “That you don’t love me as you thought you did.”
“That I can’t love you,” the young king contended. “Now I’m the King of Camelot. The leader of our world. Whoever I marry doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to all the Woods. A queen who must play the part. A queen for the people.”
“Which isn’t me,” Grisella admitted.
“Which isn’t you,” Arthur agreed. “Guinevere is from the right family, the right upbringing. She was top of our class at the School for Good. You should have seen the way Everboys looked at her, Lancelot included. Everyone knew Gwen was meant to be a queen. I had to make her mine. Especially since there’s a good many people who aren’t sure of me as king. But with Guinevere, I look the part . . . like I deserved to pull Excalibur from the stone. Marrying her means I can start my reign the right way. She’s who my kingdom needs. She’s who I need.”
“And do you love her?” Lady Gremlaine asked.
“With her, I believe I’m a king,” Arthur answered.
Grisella teared up.
“Please don’t cry,” said Arthur.
“You might be king, but I only see the boy I knew. You’re as pure a soul now as you were before,” Lady Gremlaine said softly. “Thank you, Arthur. For telling me the truth. For being so decent when I’ve been nothing but lying and deceitful.”
“You’re guilty only of being human, Grisella. Something neither a king nor a queen is allowed to be,” said Arthur, touching her. “Your story isn’t over. You’ll find love one day.”
Grisella shook her head. “Your story is mine, Arthur. You were my one love. Maybe I wasn’t worthy of you. But loving you was enough. The real you.”
Arthur’s eyes misted. “It is I who am not worthy of you,” he spoke. “I chose Guinevere so that I can erase who I used to be. The Wart who was nothing, a nobody, completely insignificant. But you loved that Wart with your whole heart. The way I loved you. And tomorrow that boy will be gone for good. I only wish our story had a different ending. One that let us forever remember what we were to each other.”
Arthur gazed deeply at her, lost in his thoughts. Grisella noticed his hand on hers, warm and soft.
She sighed, pulling her palm away. “One last night as Wart and Grizzle-Grazzle. Better enjoy our time together.”
Through the empty
glass, she saw Arthur still watching her.
“What?” she asked.
“Is there somewhere we could go to talk?” he said.
“We are talking.”
Then she saw the look in his eyes.
“Course there is, laddie!” Robin chimed, swooping in, shunting Arthur and Grisella out the front door. “Use my treehouse. Perfectly empty!”
“Follow them! Hurry!” Agatha hastened Tedros, guiding him to the door, but the prince didn’t move. “Tedros, what are you wait—”
But now Agatha saw what he did.
A blue butterfly tailing behind Arthur and Gremlaine as they went into the forest.
Slowly Tedros and Agatha turned, looking back in the direction from which the butterfly came.
Those two strangers in the corner. The brown-hooded ones near where Grisella had been sitting. Tedros had thought them Merry Men. But now they slipped off their hoods, watching Arthur and Lady Gremlaine leave together.
They weren’t Merry Men at all.
“Funny what you see in Sherwood Forest,” drawled Evelyn Sader, eyes on the door.
“Everyone here has their secrets,” her male companion replied. “It’s why both of us found our way here too. In Sherwood Forest, we’re all sinners.”
He was thick and muscular, a few years older than the young Arthur. But that’s not what made Tedros recognize him.
It was the green tint to his skin.
As if Sir Japeth Kay had only begun his transformation into the Green Knight.
“The spansel was her idea, of course. And now he acts like I’m the villain, while those two serpents cozy up,” Evelyn groused to Sir Japeth. “And to think they call him the Lion! I see a Snake, through and through. Had me banished from every kingdom, that coward. I managed to find a home at the School for Good and Evil—School Master doesn’t answer to Camelot—but ended up expelled from there too, thanks to my traitorous brother. For months, I skulked around in pits and caves, a homeless hag. And then to fall ill . . . terribly ill . . . and to be in my condition, while winter raged . . .” She shifted in her chair, looking uncomfortable. “If it wasn’t for you, coming upon me and shepherding me here, I’d have been food for rats.”
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