Sophie waited for Rafal to get angry, to threaten her, but he looked oddly entertained.

She nodded, distracted by Rafal’s smirk. “I promise.”

Rafal snorted.

“See?” Tedros pressed Agatha. “All I have to do is be willing to follow my heart and everything will end happily.”

Agatha could see his frustration, as if she was the problem here, not him. It only rankled her more. “And what about my heart? Tedros, how can you stand there and look me in the eye and—”

She froze, finally feeling the clarity of her prince’s blue stare.

He was lying.

Tedros was lying.

The prince bound to his promises, bound to the truth, was lying for her.

He was telling Sophie only what she wanted to hear. He’d do whatever he had to in order to rescue their best friend from Evil’s clutches and destroy that ring, including pretending to give Sophie a real chance at his heart.

This whole time Tedros had been trying to tell her the stakes were worth it. A ring destroyed. Good heroes spared. Her best friend saved. Her prince still hers . . .

And all Agatha had to do was go along with the lie.

So much for being 100% Good, she thought, resisting tackling and kissing him right there.

“Do you understand the terms?” her prince smiled, seeing the change in her face.

“You’ll give Sophie a chance and follow your heart . . .” Agatha smiled back, her face glowing.

Sophie was beaming now too, glancing between them obliviously.

“. . . straight to Camelot’s future queen,” said Tedros, eyes on Agatha.

Agatha’s smile vanished.

Queen.

That word again. That word that never seemed real.

From the moment they came back to the Woods, she’d put off thoughts of ever making it to Camelot, assuming Tedros and her would break up first or she’d die rescuing Sophie or the Woods would go dark and kill them all. Indeed, the closer they got to finding Sophie again, the more she’d fought with Tedros, as if unconsciously trying to tell them they couldn’t ever get to Camelot.

But here she was, on the cusp of her future as queen of the most famous kingdom ever known. As a queen who the people would judge so closely after Tedros’ mother failed them. As a queen who must restore the legend of her crown.

And nothing standing in the way between her and that crown except one big little lie.

Right then and there, in a moment where Agatha had accused Tedros of doubting their future, only to see he was, in fact, rock solid . . . it was she who suddenly had the doubts.

Me. A queen? A real queen?

Tedros saw her face darken and his smile dissipated too, as if he knew she’d stalled before the last hurdle.

“Aggie?” said Sophie’s voice.

Agatha looked up.

“I still feel like his queen,” Sophie said, reading her expression. “Which means something in our story’s still wrong, isn’t it?”