But because in the four hours since she’d left her prince and friend to their own story, his wise, young Agatha hadn’t looked back once.

23

Two Queens

Sophie watched Agatha recede on the trail, smaller, smaller, until she was a speck on the horizon.

“Sophie, it’ll take thirty seconds!”

She swiveled to Tedros. “Absolutely not. I’m not watching you urinate in broad daylight.”

“Why can’t you turn around—”

“And listen to it? As if I’m in a horse trough?”

“Sophie, if I don’t pee I’m going to explode and I can’t leave you alone on a hill, even with Gillie fairies scouting for us.” Tedros inhaled a lump of chicken pot pie and shifted in his shorts, looking highly uncomfortable. “Suppose one of the zombie villains shows up?”

“Then I’ll defend myself, thank you. Besides I can think of nothing more villainous than you swaying back and forth, tugging at your pants like you’re doing some baleful interpretive dance,” said Sophie, reaching for watercress, only to see it magically devoured. “These fairies come a close second. Now hurry before Hort gets here and challenges you to a duel.”

Tedros stood as Sophie nibbled on a watercress leaf. “Don’t eat all the pie,” he cracked.

Sophie smiled coyly and watched the prince dart down the slope. Beyond the hillcrests, she glimpsed the beginnings of Gavaldon behind a protective shield, and her smile flattened. Rafal’s ring suddenly felt like a heavy weight on her finger.

I have to destroy it soon, she thought.

Old heroes were dying because of her, Good’s stories were turning Evil because of her, Readers were in danger because of her. Smash the ring with Excalibur here and now and their fairy tale would end before Rafal ever made it to Gavaldon—storybook closed, sun restored, Good and Evil back the way they once were.

Sophie nervously picked at the pie.

She couldn’t do it.

She needed that kiss first.

Once Tedros finally kissed her, he’d feel it in their lips like an answer to a riddle: that they were meant for each other from the first day they locked eyes at the Welcoming.

But destroy the ring without that kiss and she’d have nothing to ensure their Ever After. No matter how many heroes’ lives were on the line, she couldn’t throw away her own happy ending to save theirs. Martyrdom sounded Good in theory, but in reality, it was pointless, idealistic, insane. Even with all of Good in peril, no one in their right mind would willingly sacrifice their true love—

Agatha would, thought Sophie.

Agatha would do whatever it took to save Good, just like Agatha had found it in her heart to let her best friend and Tedros have a chance at Ever After, risking her own . . . while Sophie had tried to kill Agatha for the same offense.