“I’m not sure,” Emry admitted. “When you cast off a spell, it’s not like snuffing a candle. You’re essentially freeing the magic. But maybe you don’t have to. Maybe you can redirect it somewhere specific.” Emry bit her lip. “Master Ambrosius might know.”

“But he wouldn’t be able to do it himself,” Arthur guessed, plucking her unspoken sentence from the air. “Cornwall and the Isles have court wizards of their own, neither of whom are present. There are some old wizarding families in Camelot, but the last time my father checked, none of the Ninianes or Dulacs had much in the way of magical talent.”

“You mean none of the sons,” Emry corrected.

Arthur nodded slowly, processing that. “It’s possible Camelot has some powerful sorceresses that we don’t know about.”

“Just say wizards,” Emry instructed. “ ‘Sorceress’ and ‘witch’ always feel like accusations.”

“Wizards, then,” Arthur said with a wave of his hand. “You know what I mean. And based on the poison in my wine, it stands to reason that they had a particular goal in mind.”

“Could it be an act of war?” Lance asked.

“If someone wanted me dead, they would have used nightshade. Or hemlock.”

“Not if they were hoping for a terrible accident in the ring,” argued Lance. “One that they couldn’t be tied to.”

“And if anything happens to you, the duke has a clear path to the throne?” Emry said uneasily.

Arthur nodded. His cousin Maddoc was only thirteen.

“Whoever did this doesn’t think we know,” said Lance. “That’s the important part. And they probably think the poison didn’t work. So if they’re going to strike again, their best chance is tonight, at the ball.”

“And if they have the enchantment from your scabbard, they’ll be unkillable,” said Emry.

Arthur winced, realizing she was right. The question of what someone would do with that ability was troubling.

There was a knock at the door, and Gawain poked his head inside.

“I tried the library first,” he said, which might have been a joke.

Arthur waved him in, noticing the fresh bloom of a bruise against his cheek.

Gawain caught him looking and shrugged. “Courtesy of my father,” he said curtly.

“You need to put something cold on it,” Lance said. He deliberated before adding, “I’ve used plate armor before, in a pinch.”

“I know something better,” said Emry.

“No!” Lance said, at the same moment Arthur said, “You’re injured!”

“I meant the healing salve,” Emry said, sounding annoyed. “Stop fussing.”

Gawain cocked his head and frowned, as though working something out. “And you said no one knew,” he accused.

Emry shifted in her seat. “It’s been an eventful day,” she muttered.

“Hold on, Gawain knows you’re a girl?” Arthur demanded.

That was entirely unfair.

“Really, cousin, it’s obvious,” Gawain drawled. “And you should note that I’ve said nothing. For weeks.”

“It’s true,” Emry agreed. “He didn’t even blackmail me.”

“And I could have,” Gawain added. “I did take her to a brothel, though. Just to watch her squirm.”