He thought of what he’d seen on Avalon, the image of Merlin and himself, kissing. Which of course made him think about the other things—the girl on the ship. The child. The dungeons. His own untimely death. And his dream, where he’d been unable to rescue the wizard. A dream that Merlin had shared.

What was fiction, and what was truth? More important, would all of those things come to pass?

He looked out at the crowd of courtiers, searching once again for Princess Guinevere. Her dark, glossy curls caught the light, and her lips were painted a deep, vibrant red to match the elaborate gown she wore. She noticed him looking, and glanced away with a demure smile. No smirk, or wink, or eye roll over the king’s impatience. No indication that they were anything to each other at all beyond polite acquaintances.

Why had he done it? Why had he kissed the young wizard? The worst part was how much he had enjoyed it. Followed by the moment—that humiliating moment—when they’d pressed together and he’d realized Merlin wasn’t having the same reaction. That the wizard’s blush was out of embarrassment, not arousal.

He’d been so sure that Merlin felt the same way, and he didn’t quite know what to do now that he’d miscalculated so badly.

Arthur held back a sigh as he stared out at the sea of nobles and royal guests, enjoying themselves.

Of course King Yurien was late.

The others had arrived—his uncle from Cornwall, thankfully without his spoiled, petulant son, Maddoc. The duke’s eyes had narrowed when he’d spotted Arthur at his father’s side, and at the unmistakable message it was meant to convey.

Next had been King Leodegrance and Queen Isabella, along with Prince Gottegrim, a balding, mild-mannered man in his late thirties, who seemed closer in age to the queen. The king and queen had eagerly embraced their daughter, Guinevere, and presented Uther with a citrus tree from the queen’s native Andalusia, its branches heavy with exotic orange fruit.

After that was the Queen of the Isles, with three of her five unmarried daughters, dressed in matching gowns of pink ruffles. The girls hadn’t stopped whispering since the moment they’d stepped into the hall.

The queen had exchanged empty platitudes with King Uther, excusing her husband’s absence due to illness, and offering a case of sweet wine as a birthday gift.

It looked as though King Yurien wasn’t coming after all.

“The hour grows late,” said King Uther. “And we have a concert for tonight’s entertainment—”

The trumpets blared again.