I do as I’m told. We sit for a moment, and as the chamomile works its magic, a hot flush of humiliation washes over me. Anyone who saw me shout at the Regents could be thinking anything about me right now, and some of them won’t care to hear about Arthur and uncontrollable ancestral bleed-throughs. I probably confirmed the worst assumptions of any racists in the crowd, too, like Theresa who already treats me like I’m unkempt and out of place. I can’t care about them, not really, and don’t. But I don’t want this job to become harder either.

How much damage will I have to manage from things that aren’t my fault?

I chance a question to William. “I made a fool of myself out there, didn’t I?”

“Little bit.” William takes a tiny sip of his tea, eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry, when you ascend the throne, you can order everyone to forget it happened.”

I snort. “Isn’t that what Merlins and mesmers are for?”

William rolls his eyes. “Knew you’d be a despot.” He studies me for a moment, humor fading, then sets his tea down. “Speaking of, there’s one other thing.”

I raise a brow. “Yes?”

“You broke Lark’s hand, Bree.”

I grimace. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I saw what happened. You didn’t mean to harm him,” William says evenly, “but you also didn’t care if you did.”

I flush under his scrutiny and don’t bother denying it. Of course William would notice Lark’s injury and take me to task for my carelessness. “I hadn’t even felt like me” is what I want to say. But I don’t think it would make the situation any better or excuse things. I may be a Medium, and Arthur and his strength may be a part of me, may be leaking into my life, but it’s my body doing the damage.

“It appeared to be a small break, and Merlins heal fast.” He stands to take his empty mug to the sink. “But Lark was only doing his job. You’ll need to apologize to him.”

“I will.”

“As his Crown Scion.”

“I know.”

William fixes me with a stern gaze. “You of all people cannot afford to use your inheritances recklessly, especially to injure those in your service. That is not what kings do.”

“I know.” I hang my head and sigh. “God, is this the berating part?”

“Yep, but I’m done now.” He squeezes my shoulder on the way to the door. “Room service stocked the fridges for us; get something to eat. You’ve got to get dressed for the Rite, and I need to get back to the Lodge. If I see Alice in the archives, I’ll give her a hug for you.”

“A big one,” I call after him, sitting up. “Like, the biggest hug.”