“No. You look really, really good. Trust me,” Tedros said, forcing eye contact. “But I’m pairing up with Agatha. Merlin can set the pace ahead of us and you can follow with the weasel at a distance. He is your bodyguard, isn’t he?”

Sophie’s face fell. “Oh yes, that does makes sense, doesn’t it?”

She looked at Agatha for the first time since they’d met behind the curtain. But there was no apology on Sophie’s face, no sign of the guilt-racked Sophie who’d tried to justify taking her prince. Instead, Sophie gazed hopefully at Agatha, as if they were old friends working towards a new goal.

“It’s just . . . ,” Sophie started, “I’m quite sure Agatha would prefer you walk with me.”

“What?” Tedros snorted.

Agatha glared back at Sophie, suppressing the instinct to bash her head with a rock. Because Agatha knew Sophie was right: this was the decisive moment. If Sophie walked the trail alone with Tedros, then by the time they reached the safe house in two days, she could be that much closer to earning his kiss. That much closer to killing the School Master.

That is, as long as Tedros wasn’t still holding on to his old princess.

“Agatha?” Tedros said, frowning.

She could see Merlin’s eyes on her between Sophie and the prince. She couldn’t dare waver. It was like a bandage. She had to commit to the pain and rip it off.

“Yes,” she said on a breath. “Take Sophie with you, Tedros. I’ll keep Merlin company.”

Tedros’ cheeks pinked, like an instant sunburn. “But Merlin loves to be alone! It doesn’t make any sense. Agatha, this is two days in the toughest part of the Woods, with villains on the loose and sleeping in close quarters and protecting each other from whatever we might face—”

Agatha’s expression didn’t change. Tedros grabbed her by the arm, hissing in her ear so Sophie couldn’t hear: “Listen, I know we said to pretend, but this is going too far! I’m your prince and I’m not letting you out of my sight. We need to be together—”

Agatha pulled away.

Now Tedros saw it in her face. That same halting expression he’d seen in the tower.

“Oh my God. You meant it for real, didn’t you? You’re questioning our happy ending for real,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “But we’re so close—Camelot’s waiting for us—”

Agatha tried not to look at him, focusing instead on Sophie behind him . . . on the ring circling her finger . . . on the thousand of Good lives depending on that ring. “You and I had our time together, Tedros, and I’m not sure me being your queen will make either of us happy,” she forced, turning from him so Sophie would hear. “Sophie took a lethal risk to leave school with you. You and she need space to get to know each other again.”

Stunned, Tedros looked at ravishing Sophie, ogling him with a princess’s ardor . . . then at Agatha, rigid in her black cloak. “You can’t mean that!” he fought back. “You don’t want all of Camelot to see you standing next to me in your crown? You don’t want to be the face of a kingdom as its rightful queen?”