Emry rather agreed. She would like to see London. And to study magic again, properly. All she had to do was take on the role of an understudy. Except this wasn’t the theater. It was the royal court. And she’d be playing a living, breathing person, which wasn’t at all the same as reciting someone else’s lines in a play.

Not to mention, her magic wouldn’t help make the masquerade any more believable. Spells could only be cast outward, not inward. And while there were potions she could brew to change her appearance, she didn’t have enough time.

She stared down at her brother, weighing their similarities and their differences. He was broader through the shoulders, but some padded clothing could mimic that. His height was close enough. They both had the same wide mouths and strong chins, the same dark eyes and raven hair.

And if they could fool their father, surely a doddering old wizard could be deceived. It wasn’t as though she’d have any reason to interact with the royal courtiers.

But if she was found out, she shuddered to think of the consequences. Of the king’s legendary temper, and what he’d do to a girl who had deceived her way into a position at his court.

She could do this. She had to do this. Or else she’d spend the rest of her life trapped in this too-small town, scrambling to keep a roof over their heads, cursing Emmett’s foolishness and her own lack of nerve.

She was going to Castle Camelot as her brother. And when he came to his senses and learned what she’d done, he’d thank her for it.

She realized she had been silent for too long, and Gran was frowning at her.

“Well,” Gran prompted. “Were my tea leaves wrong?”

Emry shook her head. “I’ll be careful,” she promised. “No one will suspect a thing.”

“I should hope not,” warned Gran. “The king has ordered men executed for less.”

Emry swallowed nervously, knowing her grandmother was right. But what other choice did she have?

“I’ll ask Marion to stop by often,” Emry promised.

She bent down to kiss Gran on the cheek, and then straightened, trying to look brave. Gran was watching her again, with a sharp eye. Emry wondered what was the matter now, when her grandmother tsked.

“You’d better cut your hair,” the old woman said decisively. “This isn’t the theater, dear. A hat won’t fool anyone.”

“If it isn’t the fairest maiden in Brocelande!”

Marion blushed furiously as she saw her friend’s handsome brother sweep into the theater, flashing his pirate’s grin.

“Evenin’, Emmett,” she said. “Your sister ’ent here.”

He made a face at the news and slouched against the wall. “You’re sure?” he asked. “I was hoping to say goodbye.”

“I—” Marion began, but then she narrowed her eyes, realizing. “Emry?!”