“Actually, I have,” Emry said, lifting her chin. “People talk. About princes, but also about wizards.”

“At least you know where you stand,” Arthur pointed out. “The girls at court behave like I’m some object to win so they can become queen.”

So that was why he didn’t keep company with any of the ladies who so eagerly vied for his attention. She had wondered.

“Maybe Guinevere will be different,” Emry said, trying to make him feel better. “People can surprise you, but you have to give them a chance.”

Arthur’s gaze met hers, and for a long moment, neither of them looked away. His eyes were really something. Deep and brown and endless. She wanted to let go of everything holding her back and drown in them forever. Instead, she wrenched her gaze away, and slouched against a bedpost in imitation of her brother.

“Well, I have plenty of advice,” she said, “on how to get girls to like you.”

“This should be good,” said Arthur. “Go on, wizard.”

Sard, she had really done it now.

“First, you compliment her hair, or something she’s wearing,” Emry advised. “Don’t be bawdy about it. Or gape at her bosom. Even if it’s on display.”

“Okay. Then what?”

“You should talk about your feelings,” Emry went on.

“My feelings?”

“Just enough so she knows you’re vulnerable and sensitive. And don’t hog the conversation. There’s nothing worse than listening to a boy boast for hours. You should ask her about herself, and listen attentively when she answers.”

Arthur burst out laughing. “Now you’re screwing with me,” he said, shaking his head. “Talk about my feelings. Ask her about herself. What do you know about girls, wizard?”

Emry’s cheeks heated. “Far more than you,” she snapped, her temper flaring. She didn’t know why she’d even bothered. “Fine. Wear those ridiculous heels and brag about your magic sword for all I care.”

She glared at him, expecting a sharp retort. Instead, he just sighed, defeated.

“You’d think Excalibur would make a difference,” Arthur said sadly. “But no. I’ve tried arguing it every which way. My father still insists we go forward with the wedding.”

“Wedding?” Emry yelped. Before, she’d thought Arthur was overreacting at the princess’s arrival, but now she wondered how he wasn’t in more of a panic.

“It’s a good alliance,” Arthur said diplomatically. “We do share a border. Cameliard’s not as prosperous as it once was, but they do have a strong western seaport.”

“So sign a treaty.”

Arthur grimaced. “It’s too late. Our fathers have already arranged it.”

“And Guinevere doesn’t have a say in any of this?” Emry asked, incensed on the girl’s behalf.

“Neither do I,” Arthur said, offering her a thin half smile. “Guess we both should have checked the job description before being born.”