Emry shook her head over her friend’s terrible joke. But Marion bit her lip, suddenly serious. This entire plan wasn’t just foolish—it was dangerous. But danger came with the territory when you had a wizard for a best friend. And Marion had learned long ago that once Emry set her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it.

Marion leaned forward, throwing her arms around Emry. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Of course you are. You’re going to be so tired of washing pig’s blood from the costumes that you’ll weep tears of joy upon my return.”

Marion groaned. The costumes! How had she forgotten?

CHAPTER 5

The sun was melting toward the rooftops by the time Emry reached the city gates. She was exhausted and stiff, and she definitely smelled like the back of the tanner’s wagon she’d hitched a ride on, but London made her forget all of that.

Wherry boats glittered with lantern light as they cut across the Thames. Market stalls snaked along the river’s edge, merchants calling out their wares in a dozen different accents, selling everything from fortunes to fresh-caught fish. Timbered buildings rose four stories high, pressed so close together that Emry could hardly tell where one ended and another began, and the spire of St. Paul’s soared high above it all.

She craned her neck, staring up at it. Prince Arthur had pulled the sword from the stone in that very churchyard, she knew. When news of it had reached Brocelande, she’d waited for everything to change, for Arthur’s action to mean something. But nothing had happened, other than the townsfolk suddenly singing the praises of the prince they’d grumbled over only a day before.

Maybe it was like Gran’s tea leaves. A prediction of what might happen, rather than a prophecy of what would. Well, fate better hurry up, because even predictions have an expiration date.

In a week’s time, she’d meet her brother in the tavern next door to switch back. But she pushed the thought from her mind, because there was so much to get through before she could even think of her adventure’s end.

She kept going, following the river so she wouldn’t get lost. London was both larger and smaller than she’d imagined, the kind of place you could easily cross on foot, but which could still swallow you whole without warning.

“ ’Ent you a handsome lad?” a woman in a low-cut dress purred from a dark alleyway.

Emry blushed, hurrying past.

The buildings grew shabbier, and the merchants’ wares became more suspicious. She spotted more than one dubious seller of cure-all tonics, and a man in a soot-stained cloak with a sharp dagger in each hand selling, well, Emry wasn’t exactly sure.

Maybe following the river wasn’t the best idea.