“But then again, you have hope and faith on your side, those never-failing weapons,” Sophie said cuttingly, “when all we have are axes, armies, and youth on ours.”

“Is that all we have, my queen?” Rafal asked playfully.

Sophie read his face. “How could I forget?”

Fingertip searing pink, she thrust it skywards, directing the cloud of fairies higher into the trees and lighting up the Forest overhead.

Thousands of bony, fleshless stymphs snarled down from the branches with their eyeless sockets, cawing with high-pitched screams at the sight of their Master and his new queen.

Agatha and the heroes shielded their ears from the terrible shrieks, but Rafal just hummed along, as if listening to beautiful music.

“They can scream all they like,” Tedros growled, trying to endure the sounds. “Stymphs won’t attack the Good. You only trained them to attack the Evil.”

Rafal tried not to laugh. “What I admired most about your father when he was a student was that he never thought he was more than he was. He knew he was about as sharp as a flint stone, so he kept his mouth shut and made up for it with a pretty face.”

Tedros reddened, looking unnerved.

“You, on the other hand, despite having even less brains than Arthur, have somehow convinced yourself that you have something going on in that exquisite little head of yours,” Rafal cooed. “Must have your mother’s blood. Always thought she was quite the know-it-all.”

“Whoever birthed you would slay herself on the spot if she knew you had her blood!” Tedros spat. “I’m proud to be my mother’s son.”

Rafal’s stare chilled him to the bone. “Well, she won’t have a son after tonight.”

Agatha felt Tedros tense against her.

“And as for those stymphs . . . they are indeed trained only to attack the Evil,” Rafal said, leering at the prince. “But the Woods are no longer the Woods you once knew, little prince. Good used to be the side with happy endings. Good used to be the side with true love’s kiss. Good used to be the side with Evers fighting for it. But Evil has all those things now. Evil has become the new Good.”

He raised his arms to the stymphs with a malevolent smile. “Which means to them . . . Good is the new Evil.”

The young School Master bared his teeth. “KILL THEM!”

The Dark Army roared with bloodlust and charged for the heroes—

Rafal held his hand up and they skidded to a stop.

He was still staring at the stymphs, who hadn’t moved from their posts. They weren’t screeching anymore either.

“I said . . . kill them,” Rafal bellowed.

The birds didn’t flinch.

The Forest was quiet.

“Yoo-hoo! Over here!” a voice pipped.

Slowly Rafal raised eyes to Merlin, high in an elm tree, astride a stymph. “You see, I’m afraid Evil isn’t the new Good, my dear boy. Not if your Evers and Nevers are both on Good’s side.”