Sophie curled her knees to her chest and glanced at the Storian, paused over a blank page. It hadn’t drawn a new scene since early in the evening, when it painted Agatha and Tedros disappearing into a rabbit hole and Tedros fainting at the sight of a bearded old man. She’d tried to flip back in the storybook to see who this old man was and where Agatha and her prince were in the Woods, but the Storian had stabbed her when she’d tried to turn pages, nearly impaling her hand. Once a story was unfolding, it seemed you couldn’t go back.

Sophie did a few half-hearted yoga poses, trying to take her mind off the two Evers, then gave up and slumped onto the edge of the bed, looking out the window again.

Somewhere out there her best friends were writing their own side of the story. Somewhere out there they were coming to rescue her from a school she would have once done anything to be rescued from . . . coming to convince her to leave Evil and its Master behind forever . . .

Or so they think.

Because now she felt at home here in Evil. Sure, there were a few pitfalls her first day, but she was still a teacher and queen, superior to all the other students. More importantly, she was about to win Evil’s first fairy tale in two hundred years! She was about to be a legend for all time, more famous than Snow White, Cinderella, and every other old, blank-eyed, pink princess who never had a mind of her own . . .

And to think, I used to be like those fools.

But now she was ready to fight for Evil.

Kill, even.

Because unlike all Evil that came before her, she had someone to fight for.

Rafal, she thought, admiring her ring, imagining his gorgeous, snow-cold face in its reflection . . .

Only now she was seeing Hort instead, pink and warm in steaming blue mist . . .

Then violet-eyed Aric, primal and perspiring in the Forest . . .

Sophie shrank against the wall, nauseous.

After finally finding her true love, now she was fantasizing about Hort? About Aric? After everything she’d done to find love?

Rafal had to be the one, after all.

No one else loved her anymore.

Not even Hort.

I need proof, she thought. That’s all.

I need proof Rafal is the one.

Then I’ll stop doubting.

Then I’ll stop thinking of other boys.

She lifted her eyes to the dark, empty room.

Prove it, she begged her heart.

Prove he’s my true love.

The School Master’s chamber was dead silent.

All of a sudden, the ring on her finger started to move.

Slowly it slid down her finger by its own power, settling below the knuckle.

It was still for a moment, cold against her left hand. Then the ring magically melted before her eyes, the gold turning darker and darker, softer and softer, deconstructing into a circle of gleaming black liquid.