King’s Cove was different now. The pool was dark and cold, the water algae-green. The plants were dead, the waterfall a drip, drip, drip. The fairies were gone too, banished from the castle by Arthur after Guinevere and Merlin had both abandoned him, destroying Arthur’s faith in magic.

Tedros looked down at the kettlebells he’d stolen from the gym and stashed by the pool, along with a sad, lowly rope he’d tied to the ceiling to practice climbing.

He couldn’t exercise in that other room. Not if he had to be near that empty case and think about where the sword was now.

Slowly, his eyes rose to his father’s statue in the murky pool, caked with moss and dirt—King Arthur, Excalibur in hand, staring down at him.

Only he wasn’t staring. At least not anymore. His eyes were gone, violently gouged out, leaving two big black holes.

Tedros endured a wave of guilt, more intense than the one he felt in the gym.

He’d done it.

He’d carved out his own father’s eyes.

Because he couldn’t bear the old king looking at him after what happened at the coronation.

I’ll fix it, Father, he vowed. I’ll fix everything.

Tedros tossed his towel onto the mildewed floor and dove into the pool, thoughts wiped out by the harsh, stabbing cold.

Six months before, the day of the coronation had been brilliant and warm.

Tedros was utterly spent after everything that had happened leading up to it—reconciling with his mother, fighting the Great War against an Evil School Master, and an all-night ride from school to Camelot in time for him to be crowned king the next day.

And yet, despite feeling like a sore, sleepless zombie, he couldn’t stop smiling. After so many false starts and twists and turns, he’d finally found his Ever After. He was the ruler of the most legendary kingdom in the Woods. He’d have Agatha by his side forever. His mother (and Lancelot) would live with them in the castle. For the first time since he was a child, he had a full family again—and soon a queen to share it with.

Any one of those would be a wonderful enough gift on this, his sixteenth birthday. But the best present of all? Sophie, his old friend-enemy-princess-witch, had been appointed Dean at the School for Evil far far away, where she’d remain at a safe distance from him and Agatha. Which meant no more Sophie thuggery, no more Sophie skullduggery for the rest of their lives. (He’d learned from experience that he and that girl couldn’t be in the same place without killing each other, kissing each other, or a lot of people ending up dead.)

“Hmm, can’t Merlin do a spell to make this smell better?” Tedros said in front of his bedroom mirror, sniffing at his father’s old robes. “This thing is rancid.”

“Whole castle is rancid,” groused Lancelot, gnawing on a slab of dried beef. “Plus, haven’t seen Merlin since he hopped out of the carriage in Maidenvale. Said he’d meet us at the castle. Should be here by now.”