There had been the lady-in-waiting who was thrilled to be caught in his bed the next morning. Another girl who’d gathered a flock of courtiers eager to hear every sordid detail. A third who’d seized the opportunity to whisper in his ear about her father’s debts, hoping they might be forgiven. A fourth who had come to his room smelling of herbs that increased fertility, and had sworn it was merely perfume.

At sixteen, he’d been too eager to care about the girls’ motivations. But with each betrayal, he’d felt more and more foolish.

So he’d begun to make excuses, or slip unnoticed from the banquet hall through the servants’ stair. Alone in his room, he’d told himself a story about the girl he’d meet at university. He’d imagined her whenever he felt lonely.

And then his mother had died, and his heart had broken, and when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t imagine anything, or anyone, that would make him feel better.

So he didn’t understand what it was about the boy wizard that made his heart pound and his trousers go tight whenever the lad got near.

Merlin was on his mind whenever he went riding, or sipped a mug of coffee, or ducked into the library. And he couldn’t take his eyes off the wizard at supper. That was the worst. He didn’t understand how he was so painfully aware of Merlin’s presence, even from the other side of the Great Hall.

Sard, this was a mess. He was a mess.

And on top of everything, guests would start arriving for his father’s birthday festivities in a matter of days.

Focus, he told himself, loosening his stance and trying an overhead pass with the sword. With the pain in his shoulder gone, the move was easier than it had been before. Or perhaps that was all the training. He could feel himself improving, and more often than not, Captain Lam and Master Lionel offered him an approving nod, rather than a correction.

But the training fields weren’t the wizard’s workshop. And he knew which one he preferred.

You will be a great king with this wizard by your side, the Lady of the Lake had said.

He wished, for the thousandth time, that he’d asked what she’d meant.

Arthur put away his sword, locking the door to the armory behind him. Perhaps he should get a book from the library before bed, to distract from his problems.

Yet when he reached the library, he paused. The doors were ajar, and there were voices inside.

Merlin and Gawain sat hunched over a chess set. Gawain moved a bishop and leaned back in his seat with a smirk.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d do that,” Merlin gloated, capturing the bishop. “It’s check, by the way.”