The duke wasn’t a man with access to magic. Of that Emry was certain. Or else he would have revealed his hand long ago. Which meant there was someone else. Someone Emry was missing.

She glanced around, noticing that two of the pink princesses had cornered a horrified Prince Gottegrim. The duke was dancing with Lady Elaine, who wore a pained look on her face, although that could be due to the tightness of her bodice. Where was King Yurien?

Emry shifted, trying to find a better vantage point. And bumped into something.

No, someone.

“Hi,” a boy’s voice said.

It was Arthur. He was leaning against the wall, half cloaked in shadow, and he looked exhausted.

“Hi,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d found your hiding place.”

“I’m willing to share,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I believe they’re meant to accommodate two.”

Emry glanced at the other alcoves and blushed at the amorous couples.

“So,” Arthur said. “How goes your night of spying? What have you observed so far?”

“Jereth is a shockingly good dancer.”

“What else?”

“Sir Kay has eaten four slices of cake. Which doesn’t seem the thing if he was up to anything nefarious.”

“What else?”

They stood so close. Eyelash to eyelash. Lip to lip. Emry’s breath caught.

“Have you observed,” breathed Arthur, “how badly I want to kiss you?”

Oh, she wanted to kiss him, too. But not here. He took her hand, rubbing his thumb in slow, maddening circles against her palm.

“You are being rather obvious about it,” Emry murmured.

“Do you object?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Not at all.”

Her heart pounded as Arthur led her through the castle, darting into a servant’s stair, and then through an unmarked door behind a tapestry.

He pulled her through the labyrinthine stone corridors and stopped at an ancient wooden door, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.

He pulled away, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Not when we’re finally getting to the good part.”

His lips met hers again, more insistent this time. Her mouth opened to him, and she lost herself in Arthur. In his smell, his taste, his arms.

He fumbled a hand behind her back, and she tilted her head with a frown, wondering what on earth he was trying to do.

“Shortcut,” he explained as the door swung open.

The candles burned low in the sconces, and the balustrade was entirely in shadow. Narrow rows of books stretched up on either side of them. They were in the library stacks.

Emry laughed, because it was so entirely Arthur to duck out of a ball and bring her to the library. But her laugher was cut off as he pressed another urgent kiss to her lips. They became a tangle of hands and mouths, and caught in his embrace, Emry realized just how much she had wanted this, and how much it had hurt to believe it would never happen.