And Sophie’s moment was when she’d almost won Tedros’ kiss two years ago, only to lose it.

All this time, Agatha had believed that she and Tedros were the true loves in this fairy tale. That Sophie was never meant to get the prince’s kiss their first year.

But what if she’s right? Agatha thought. What if Sophie is Tedros’ true love and we made a wrong turn? What if Tedros was never meant to be with me?

Agatha’s chest hollowed. Her face softened with understanding. The only way she’d ever know is if she let Sophie and Tedros be together. If she didn’t hate Sophie for trying to be his queen, but instead gave her that chance, just as Agatha had promised her in the School Master’s tower. For a month Agatha had Tedros to herself, which turned out to be a lumpy, potholed stretch of tension and misunderstandings, with a cloudy and doubt-riddled future. She’d had her turn at being happy with him and couldn’t find The End. Now it was Sophie’s turn.

And if their kiss is real? If his name on her skin is right?

If Tedros is really Sophie’s true love?

Agatha held her breath.

Then I’m meant to be alone.

She stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Sophie and Tedros at all now against the waterlogged landscape.

“Dear girl, it will be a very long road if you spend more time looking backwards than forward.”

Agatha turned to see Merlin far ahead on the trail. Veiled in fog, with a severe countenance, floppy cone hat, and a walking stick in hand, he looked like the Great White Wizard of epic storybooks, who had all the answers. Then a wasp landed on his nose and he fled up the path, shooing and cursing at it, his robes riding up over lime-green socks.

Agatha exhaled. Either Merlin had gotten too old to be a Great White anything or she’d gotten too old to believe in answers at all.

“What will happen to the League members?” she asked when they were side by side again. “Yuba was putting up more storybooks—all of them had new endings—”

“Eleven. Eleven more dead, including Jack Horner, Puss in Boots, and Anya, the Little Mermaid, all found in ripe old age and dispatched by Nemeses returned from the grave,” said Merlin gravely, wiping his fogged-up spectacles. “It was only a matter of time before the Dark Army began to have more success in finding their old targets. But I trust the members of our League to survive in the Woods until Sophie decides to destroy her ring. Once upon a time, those same heroes were trained in a Blue Forest, just like you. The only difference is they made it to graduation without the world ending.” He gave Agatha a droll smile.

Up until now, it had seemed too fantastical, too cartoonish for Agatha to think that the sun that rose and set every day for thousands of years was melting because of them. But the tenor of Merlin’s voice suddenly made it real.