“That won’t be necessary,” Lord Agravaine said coldly.

“We must find out who did this—” the king began.

“I already have that covered,” Arthur assured him. “If Gawain, Merlin, Lance, my guards, or I find out anything useful, you’ll be the first to know.” He paused before adding, “And of course I’ll have my guards return Excalibur to the vault before tonight’s festivities, where I’ll be stationing them as extra security until Captain Lam can rearrange his men’s assignments. I trust that will be all, sire.”

Arthur strode from the room before his father could dismiss him, or get in another word edgewise.

CHAPTER 34

Emry couldn’t believe she’d let Gawain talk her into this. Dressing up as her brother was one thing, but pretending to be a courtier at a royal ball was quite another.

“Well?” Gawain called from the sitting room. “Can I see?”

“Not yet!”

Emry stared in the mirror in Gawain’s dressing room. The girl who gazed back was an impossible, improbable version of herself, all dark eyes and dark hair and mysterious glamour.

Her dress’s neckline plunged almost to her navel. A black lace bodice hugged her curves and skimmed over her waist. Layers of pale gray silk cascaded from her shoulders, darkening to almost black at the bottom. The skirt was studded with swirls of crystal that took the shape of tangled branches. The effect was both terrifying and beautiful. Like an enchanted forest filled with thorns.

She had never worn anything so fine. A couple of spells had taken in the waist and lengthened the hem. She only wished she had something stronger than Master Ambrosius’s salve to take care of the still-tender wound across her ribs. Well, he could show her what to do in the morning. At least she had plenty of spare bandages to wrap it.

Emry gave her wig a tug, settling the glossy dark waves over one shoulder.

She looked like someone who belonged, and she couldn’t help but think how much easier everything would be if the girl in the mirror was real. If she was attending tonight’s ball as the daughter of the court wizard. Or as the court wizard herself.

“Does the dress fit all right?” Gawain called.

“It’s fine,” Emry said, smoothing a wrinkle from her bodice.

She hadn’t fully thought through what it meant, shedding her disguise for the first time in months. And how it would feel to put on another, with no chance to be herself in between. It was disorienting, seeing herself with long hair and a ball gown. The speed at which she was expected to be someone else, yet again, was dizzying. Especially when all she wanted was to be herself.

Someone pounded heavily on the door to Gawain’s apartments, and Emry’s heart thudded in alarm.

“A word, before the festivities,” a familiar voice called. Lord Agravaine.