Tired was an understatement. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for a week. Instead he was here, at his father’s grand birthday ball, with the Queen of Lothia and no idea whether their next dance step lasted six counts or eight.

“I wasn’t aware the Duke of Cornwall intended to enter,” she said.

“Nor was I,” said Arthur.

“I admire a man who knows what he wants,” the queen said silkily. “But somehow, I find that very quality abhorrent in the duke.”

Arthur bit back a laugh. “Then we are in agreement,” he pronounced.

Their palms were inches apart, held aloft as they circled one another. A large emerald ring glittered on the queen’s finger, and a matching stone swayed on a long golden chain around her neck. Her veil was a similar shade of green, embroidered with silver to match her gown. And her eyes were rimmed with thick smudges of dark makeup that flicked up at the corners in a way that was almost catlike.

“Was your journey to Avalon very difficult?” the queen inquired.

“I did have some trouble with the boat,” Arthur allowed. “Luckily, I had our apprentice wizard Merlin with me, or else I might have arrived soaking wet.”

The queen’s eyes glittered with interest. “I’ve heard of the wizard Merlin,” she said. “I expected him to be older.”

“This was his, uh, son,” said Arthur.

The queen looked surprised. “I didn’t know he had children.”

“Twins,” Arthur said absently, trying to remember the count. Were they supposed to circle twice or three times? He glanced at the couple on their left, who was no help, unless he was looking for instruction on where to place his hands should he wish to be slapped. “A boy and a girl.”

It was three times, Arthur realized, completing the final round. The dance floor burst into applause for the minstrels, and he clapped politely as well. He really hoped he didn’t have to dance with her again. There was something a little unsettling about the queen.

Arthur never thought he’d be relieved to see King Yurien, yet as the man approached, he truly was.

“Come, Morgana,” said King Yurien, extending an arm, “I must show you the gardens.”

The queen inclined her head at Arthur. “A pleasure,” she said.

Arthur bowed in return. When he straightened, he caught sight of Emry in the doorway and nearly lost his balance.

He wasn’t prepared for it. For her. For this beautiful girl in a dark, glittering dress, her neckline plunging dangerously low, revealing assets he hadn’t known she possessed. Long black hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her whole face lit up as she laughed at something Gawain had said. He wondered why the entire room hadn’t ground to a halt, why every courtier in the place wasn’t staring.

He couldn’t reconcile the fact that this impossibly lovely creature was the shabby apprentice he’d sat across from in the wizard’s workshop for weeks.