He had nearly died. He had fought a sorceress, and pressed his sword to her throat, and hesitated because she had exactly their mother’s eyes. And the last thing he’d felt like doing after all of that was going toe to toe with his father over events that had happened twenty years ago.

He was so tired. He didn’t think he’d ever been so tired. So he’d edited and lied, eager to get his lecture over with, and careful to shield Emry from any blame. The king had listened with increasing disbelief, his face blotching red with anger, especially after Arthur revealed that King Yurien was in possession of the enchantment from his scabbard.

“You mean to tell me that man is unkillable?” Uther had roared, banging his fist against a table.

“So you can see why I did everything in my power to try and fix it,” Arthur had explained.

“But you didn’t fix it. You failed. And you could have died for your foolishness. Now get out.”

Arthur had taken one look at his father’s scowl and done so with haste. Perhaps he hadn’t needed to fling the doors open with such force, but his father’s disappointment chafed at him, especially since it was so unwarranted.

He hadn’t failed. He had saved Emry, and he’d learned of Morgana’s plans, and had discovered the dark and unforgivable truth that his father had hidden from him.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he slowed his pace in the corridor. This mess he was in was entirely his father’s doing. His uncle, the Duke of Cornwall, clearly wanted him out of the way so he could take the throne for himself. Morgana wanted him dead out of revenge. King Yurien would stand against him to build his empire, and Morgana would do everything in her power to help him. But despite all of this, Uther still treated him like a child, expecting him to obey commands with no thought of the future.

All Arthur had done—all he had ever done—was to try to fix his father’s mistakes.

Somehow, without his noticing, his feet had carried him in the direction of Emry’s rooms. He rounded the corner just as Emmett was coming through her door.

The young wizard gave him a withering look. “She’s my sister,” he warned.

“My intentions are honorable,” Arthur promised.

“We’ll see about that,” Emmett grumbled.

And then Emry appeared in the doorway, making a face at her brother’s back. “Ignore him. Come on in.”

Arthur hesitated, spotting a girl’s nightdress flung over a chair. “He’s not wrong.” Then, smiling sheepishly, “Want to go out? I could use a drink. And some company.”

“Out as in London?” Emry looked surprised.