The blood has barely dried on the throne room floor when I stumble through the woods, crown still clutched in my trembling hands. The metallic scent of death clings to me like a second skin, my father's final gasp echoing in my ears. How could this happen? They were supposed to be safe.

I'd been warned about threats to the crown, trained my whole life to protect them. Yet when the assassins came, I was miles away, arguing with Quentin about some arranged marriage. The last thing I said to him was that I hated him.

Now the trees part to reveal a clearing I've only seen in stories. And there she is - Jane Chatwin, the Watcher Woman my fathers spoke of. Her eyes hold centuries of knowledge as she smiles gently.

"You're going to save your family, obviously," she says, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

My heart stops. "That's not possible."

"Of course it is," she replies, turning to gather herbs with surprising casualness.

"How?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Honestly, it's as if nobody's told you who I am."

Before I can process her words, she turns back, suddenly serious. "The answer isn't in Fillory, Todd. It's in the past, on Earth. You'll be a spy for the future. Find who they upset, what shortcuts they take."

Her gaze softens. "You'll get to know your mother."

Tears burn my eyes. Margo died when I was a toddler, but Eliot and Quentin told me stories. Now I might actually meet her - the legendary Queen of Fillory, my mother.

Jane places her hand on my shoulder, and the world begins to spin. "Good luck, Todd."

The next thing I know, I'm crashing into something soft. Warm sheets. Not the forest floor. And the unmistakable sound of someone entering the room.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

I freeze. That voice. I'd know it anywhere - stories or not. It's her. Margo. Younger, angrier, but undeniably my mother.

She glares at me, hands on hips, and I realize with horror that I've somehow landed in her bed. The first time I meet my mother, and I'm trespassing in her room at Brakebills.

"I - uh - got lost?" I manage, mentally cursing Jane for not giving me a better cover story.