She bit her lip. And then the door to the theater swung open one last time, and the rosy-cheeked blonde girl came out with an armload of costumes and a sewing kit.

“Oh,” she said, startled. “I didn’t know they were here to see you!”

Emry’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve met?” she asked the girl.

“They tried to go backstage,” said the girl, “but I—”

“You watched the play?” Emry asked, horrified.

“Loved the special effects,” Lance said enthusiastically.

“And the costumes,” added Arthur, with a nod to the bundles of fabric in the girl’s arms.

“I’m Marion,” the girl said, “and you are?”

Lancelot turned on the charm, kissing the girl’s hand and introducing himself with enthusiasm.

Arthur slanted an amused look at Emry, and saw that she was shaking her head in spite of herself. It really was over the top.

“And I’m Arthur,” he said pleasantly.

“Emry,” Marion said, her voice low with warning, “please tell me the Prince of Camelot didn’t just stand through our performance of The Faerie King.” No one said anything. Marion made a disgusted noise. “What next? Will you be joining His Royal Highness for a drink at the Prancing Stag?”

Arthur shrugged. “I hope so,” he said.

“You could come as well,” Lance suggested. “And maybe you could bring that dark-haired lad who played the shepherd?”

Marion rolled her eyes at his lack of subtlety. “Are they always this much trouble?” she asked Emry.

“Worse. But I can manage them.”

“She can’t, actually,” said Lance. “The last time she tried, she got stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Marion looked aghast.

“I barely grazed her!” Arthur protested. “Besides, I had healing salve.”

“Half a jar,” Emry countered. And then her expression softened. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“To the Prancing Stag?” Arthur asked, pleased.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Emry muttered.

“Probably,” Arthur said. He looked to Lance, silently asking his friend for a moment alone with Emry. Fortunately, Lance understood.

“I’ll meet you there.” Lance grinned. “First, Marion has to introduce me to . . . actually, I don’t even know his name.”

“Thomas,” Marion supplied. She shoved her bundle of costumes into Lance’s arms. “Might as well make yourself useful.”

Emry kept glancing at Arthur out of the corner of her eye as he walked alongside her. She couldn’t believe he’d ridden all this way just to ask her to come back to the castle.

That he’d invited her to train to be his court wizard.

King Uther didn’t ask, Emry reminded herself. He had demanded Emmett’s presence, without considering the implications. But Arthur had come in person, to give her a choice.

He will be a great king, the Lady of the Lake had predicted.