Sophie stroked his cheek. “And here you are.”

Tears sprang to Tedros’ eyes.

“I told you,” Sophie smiled. “I told you we belonged together from that very first day.”

Her prince took her by the waist. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Sophie.”

“And was the truth . . . enough?” she asked, red-hot.

Tedros nodded, his fingers moving up her back. “You only left out one thing . . .”

She inhaled his sweet breath. “What’s that?” she whispered, leaning in.

Tedros held her neck and slowly pressed his lips to hers, soft as a cloud. With a gasp, Sophie fell into his kiss, heart pumping against his chest.

At last.

At last!

She tasted every morsel of his perfect mouth, waiting for the rapturous swell between them that would seal their end . . . for a spark as electric and strong as love could bear . . .

But all Sophie tasted was dead hollowness, as if kissing a stone.

Shaken, she seized Tedros tighter, kissed him harder, but she felt nothing from his side, nothing from her side, absolutely nothing at all, as their lips grew lifeless, repelling each other, until finally she pulled away.

Tedros glowered at her, ice-cold. “You left the part out about being my queen because you love me.”

Sophie’s heart was a black hole.

“I’m not your true love, Sophie. I never was,” said the prince. “We don’t belong together.”

Sophie sputtered for breath. “But . . . but—the ring—” She glanced down at her hand urgently, only to see the stain of Tedros’ name vanish beneath the gold, as if it had never been there at all.

A loud clink jolted her and she turned to find Excalibur on the ground next to her.

Sophie looked up at Tedros, tramping out of the cave.

“By the time I come back, I want it destroyed,” he commanded.

Then he forged into the night air and veered out of sight.

Slowly Sophie looked down at the ring, flickering beneath the candle.

Rage ripped through her blood . . . rage so thick and primal it made her whole body rattle—

She tore the ring off her finger and hurled it at the sapphire wall, before it crashed into dirt across from her.

Lancelot was right.

The ring had lied to her. It had carved the name of a prince who she never belonged to. It had knowingly led her down the wrong path. It had made an utter fool of her.

And so had the boy who’d given it to her.

Teeth gnashed, she grabbed Excalibur with both hands, picturing Rafal’s twisted grin. Evil’s Master would learn his lesson for betraying her.

Sophie raised Good’s sword high over the ring and brought it down with a scream—

The blade stopped a sliver short.

But had he betrayed her?

Why would Evil’s ring lead her to Good’s prince in the first place?

And why would Rafal let her go off with that prince without chasing her?