And how on earth had Guinevere gotten dragged into it?

“Snapped it against my bow,” Lance said. “Hurts like a bi—” he glanced at Guinevere. “Um, well, it stings.”

“Lancelot saved my life,” Guinevere piped up. “And injured himself most terribly in my protection. I am in his debt, and I beg you to heal him, Master Apprentice Wizard.”

She blinked prettily at Merlin, who burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” gasped the wizard. “Does she always talk like that?”

Guin’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and her mouth fell open into an indignant, round O.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice low in warning. That was no way to speak to a lady. Much less a princess. “Apologize.”

Merlin shot him an incredulous look. “But—” the wizard began.

“Now,” Arthur insisted.

“My apologies, Princess Guinevere. I am a lowly commoner, unaccustomed to the flowery language of nobility,” Merlin said, eyes glittering sarcastically. Arthur hoped that was the end of it. But the wizard flashed an infuriating grin and instructed, “Also, I’ll thank everyone to refer to me as Master Apprentice Wizard from now on.”

“If you’d like a nickname, I can think of far more fitting ones,” offered Lance.

“And I can think of a spell that turns nipples into garden slugs,” Merlin replied.

Guinevere looked horrified.

“He’s joking,” Arthur assured her, daring Merlin to say otherwise. Honestly, the wizard’s behavior was appalling.

“Let’s make this quick,” Merlin complained. “I have a potions exam this afternoon, and I need to study.”

“And I have bloodstains all over my new gown,” Guinevere replied, unfazed. “I climbed all the way up this ridiculously steep tower because Lancelot promised you’d do something to fix it.”

“All over” was a gross exaggeration, Arthur thought. It was a few streaks at worst. Judging from Merlin’s expression, the wizard felt rather the same way.

“He’d be happy to help you with that,” Arthur said smoothly, arching an eyebrow in Merlin’s direction and daring him to disagree.

Merlin grumbled the spell, and Guinevere’s eyes went wide as the stains disappeared, replaced by the overstrong smell of roses.

“Thank you,” Guinevere said, sinking into a curtsey. “Master Apprentice Wizard Merlin.”

“I’m just glad I could save the day,” Merlin replied dryly.

Arthur had hoped Guinevere would leave after Merlin restored her dress, but no such luck. She flounced over to Master Ambrosius’s favorite chair and settled her skirts around her.

“Before the wizard fixes you up, I’d like to hear what happened to your arm,” Arthur said.

Lance explained about Percival and the falcon. Guin kept interrupting, adding in small, insignificant details, unaware that everyone was glaring at her.

“Was Percival hurt?” Arthur asked.

“Nah, he’s fine,” said Lance. “Screamed like a little girl, though.”

Arthur turned his laugh into a coughing fit.

“Are you quite well, Your Highness?” Guinevere asked, her brow knitting with concern.

“I am,” Arthur hastily assured her.