After three days, the castle was beginning to feel less like a confusing hedge maze and more like a city, whose rhythms he was starting to understand. He could do without the guards making noise beneath his window at dawn, though.

The first morning, he’d been so horrified that he’d clamped a pillow around his head and accidentally slept until noon. Which hadn’t been his fault, as he’d explained to Master Ambrosius.

Of course his sister had conveniently forgotten to mention that he needed a pass to go into the city most days. He’d been planning to spin some pennies into gold by playing cards at the city’s alehouses, with the help of a little magic.

Instead, he was stuck in a pungent attic reciting Latin and Greek from morning until night, and proving to the old court wizard the distance from which he could ignite a candle. How dull. The spells he preferred were ones that dazzled and impressed—or at the very least, things that weren’t shortcuts for servants’ tasks.

Arthur had literally asked him to heat up some water for his tea. True, he probably shouldn’t have goaded the prince about kissing his sister. But the way Emry had looked when she’d returned home, as if all the light and happiness had gone out of her . . . And with a stab wound besides! He couldn’t very well say nothing to the boy responsible for Emry’s misery. Even if, knowing his sister, most of it was likely her fault.

At least the food was excellent. And he didn’t have to trek outside to use the jakes. But he was bored. The other lads his age were royals, squires, or guards, and they all seemed to take their positions so seriously.

And the women—sard, they were beautiful. But their eyes slid right past him in the halls, searching for wealthier, more impressive fare. He saw the problem immediately—he didn’t look like an elegant courtier worthy of their attention. Well, he could fix that. He needed better clothing. A silk doublet or two, and one of those fine half-cloaks that clasped at the shoulder. A pair of suede boots wouldn’t hurt, nor would an embroidered jacket with silver buttons. His wages, when he received them, would just about cover the expense. Perhaps a tailor would give him credit, seeing as how he was in the king’s employ.

With his lessons finished for the day, he was merely wandering. He’d discovered a weapons training room, but didn’t know if he was allowed to use it. And after the mess with his sister, and the king’s displeasure when he’d turned up unannounced, and months late, he didn’t want to risk it.

Idleness was a much safer pursuit. So he sent a servant to fetch him a bottle of wine and some sweets, and then he went out to the castle lawn to feel sorry for himself.