“Rub what in?” Gawain asked with a frown. “The fact that our prince is marrying a perfectly acceptable princess from a perfectly respectable kingdom, with whom we just happen to share most of our northern border?”

When he put it that way. Still. Emry sunk down in her chair.

Gawain studied her. “I knew there was something between the two of you!”

“There’s nothing between us.”

“Anymore,” Gawain finished.

“He’s really going to marry her.” Emry shook her head in disbelief.

“Of course he is. Because when it comes down to it, all my cousin wants—all he’s ever wanted—is his father’s approval. Even at the expense of his own happiness.”

“And what about you?” Emry asked, nibbling a piece of toast. “What is it you want?”

“When I figure that out, you’ll be the first to know,” Gawain promised.

“Same,” said Emry. “I just . . . don’t know what to do. I can’t stay disguised like this forever.”

“I have an idea.” Gawain’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “You could come to France with me.”

He was joking. He had to be joking. Yet there was a sincerity in his face that made Emry wonder just how much he really meant it.

“Very funny,” she said.

“I’m serious,” Gawain insisted. “You speak the language. And I wouldn’t mind some company. Wear a nice dress, and I’ll introduce you at court as my fiancée.”

Emry choked on a sip of tea. “Your fiancée,” she repeated, incredulous.

“Why not?”

“I’m a wizard!”

“So?” Gawain asked.

“And a commoner.”

“That hardly matters. I’m no prince.”

“Just his cousin.”

“Arthur and I are not the same,” Gawain protested. “Obviously, I’m far more handsome.” He smirked, and Emry rolled her eyes. “Listen, I know what it’s like to pick up the endless slack for a brother who never gets it right. To be desperate enough to run away, and naive enough to think my problems won’t follow me. To prove myself a hundred times over for something that I’ll never have the chance to be. I’m not saying we should call for the bishop tomorrow. But, for the record, I wouldn’t mind a wife who conjures fire, and matches me drink for drink, and gets herself stabbed to protect the heir to the kingdom.”

Emry wished a different boy was saying these things to her. And yet, staring across the table at Gawain, more handsome than he had any right to be in his dressing gown, his eyes bright and his expression hopeful, she wondered how she had ever thought him a villain.