Sophie paused, letting these words echo in the quiet room. “I was with Merlin, Tedros, and Agatha the past two weeks. I was face-to-face with all those wretched heroes in their cave. I know their weaknesses and how to beat them. And if you still doubt me, then perhaps you should remember that the last rite of any coronation is a queen’s wish for her kingdom. I didn’t have a chance to make my wish then, but I’ll make it now. My wish is to do what I couldn’t do the first time I was at this school: to lead this war against Good and know that righteousness is on our side. All of you may not trust Evil can win this war. You may choose to stay behind with the students and cower from the future. But not me. I’ll prepare our Dark Army for war. I’ll stand with Rafal at the front line. I’ll do whatever it takes to show the world that Evil can win. Because this isn’t just my fairy tale now. It’s all of ours. And in the end, my life is worth risking if it means more rebel hearts will finally have a happy ending.”

Her cheeks were red, her chest thumping.

The teachers gazed back at her. They weren’t snickering anymore. Instead their eyes shined with a new hope, as if Evil finally had a chance indeed.

Rafal clasped Sophie’s hand. “Well, then,” he said proudly. “I believe we’ve found our Training Leader.”

Sophie gave him a regal smile and turned to Lady Lesso, expecting her to be just as proud of how far her former student had come . . .

Only Lady Lesso didn’t look proud of her at all.

Once lunch was served, Merlin cleared his throat and prepared to speak, but no one paid the slightest attention. They were far too busy with the food.

With more than twenty people to serve—thirteen old heroes, three young witches, a former queen and her knight, a future queen and king, and a loveless weasel—Merlin’s hat had hidden away in the kitchen, letting out shrieks of stress, until one by one, silver platters began magically floating through the swinging door. Soon the dining table was a smorgasbord of colorful, cosmopolitan delights: truffled crab salad, curried venison with beetroot jelly, shredded duck in a citrus marinade, peppered-ham pizza on roasted pitas, a yogurt-and-mint olive tapenade, fennel and wildflower salad, and a chocolate bouchon cake with crispy honeycomb.

With the old League heroes starving from their travails in the Woods and the youngsters deprived of breakfast by the morning’s events, the dining room quickly turned into a battle scene, so crowded and muggy with jostling bodies and hands stabbing for pizza and cake that Agatha didn’t even bother looking for Tedros. Nor did she search for her prince after lunch, for she’d eaten too much and too fast and had to hide behind a sofa in the den where she could clutch her belly and burp in private. Glancing up, she saw everyone else had the same idea; each nook and cranny of the farmhouse was filled with a young or old body, nursing indigestion or passed out in a food coma.