The young School Master stepped aside, revealing Stefan kneeling in the grass, gagged with a stick.

Sophie stood over her father, cold-eyed and still.

“In fact, it’s not me doing the killing at all. My true love will be the one to end this story.” Rafal kissed Sophie’s hand gently, his ring on her finger gleaming against his lips. “Sacrificing her own father’s blood for love.”

Agatha broke out in a sweat.

“The most dangerous person in a fairy tale is the one willing to do anything for love.”

It was never the Readers that Rafal was after in Gavaldon. It was only one Reader. A Reader whose murder could undo the School Master’s slaying of his own brother.

Merlin’s words rushed back to her . . . the ones he’d spoken in the Celestium the night before the war . . . the ones that didn’t make any sense . . .

What if we have the whole story wrong, Agatha?

The day Rafal had killed his own blood, he’d proven that Evil couldn’t love and doomed his side to eternal defeat.

But now he had a queen who would kill her own blood to prove Evil could love.

An original sin erased.

The curse on Evil reversed.

An immortal School Master with no one to stop him until every last Ever was dead. Until Good was only a memory.

Just as he’d promised.

Horror-struck, Agatha looked up at Sophie standing with Rafal, his spiked white hair like icicles against the night sky. As Sophie gazed at her beautiful true love, there was nothing in her eyes but a deep green void.

Beneath her, Stefan didn’t struggle. He knew he was beaten.

Agatha felt her fingertip heat up, knowing Tedros must be nearby. Lancelot and Merlin too. Surely they could help her get to Stefan in time. Somehow they’d get Sophie away from the School Master. The wizard always had a plan—

But now she saw Rafal smirking at her, his eyes on her glowing fingertip, as if she was two steps behind.

Dread rising, Agatha turned to see Rafal’s zombies restraining Merlin’s army, young and old, weapons to each of their necks. Zombie trolls and ogres broke heroes’ bows and crushed the last stymphs with their fists, splintering their bones. Trapped at spear- and swordpoint, the young and old heroes surrendered to their knees like Stefan. First, Hort and Peter together . . . then Jack and Briar Rose . . . Uma, Yuba, and Pinocchio . . . even Hester knew her demon was no match for a knife-wielding zombie witch and dropped to the dirt next to Anadil and Dot.

Petrified, Agatha searched for Tedros, but she couldn’t see him anywhere as she scanned the grove down to the last two trolls tying prisoners to a tree—

Her heart stopped.

The prisoners were Merlin and Lancelot.

The knight had a gash in his cheek, a scorched thigh, and his shoulder looked worse than before as he drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to keep his head up. Merlin had been stripped of hat and cloak, and one of the ogres had hacked off his beard. Slumped in the dirt, in a filthy undershirt, the wizard stared at the sun through the trees, minutes from snuffing out. She could see the despair in his sad blue eyes, reflecting the last trickle of light. Together, they’d failed to destroy Sophie’s ring . . . failed to hold the shield . . . failed to stop the School Master from his ending. Instead, they’d given him just enough time to seal Good’s destruction forever.