She was the apprentice wizard at the royal court. Just like her father.

Well, Emmett was the apprentice wizard. But she was here now, and that was enough. It had to be.

No matter that the king had been terrifying and the prince had been obnoxious—she doubted they’d cross paths many more times before the week was through—between the books and her supper, she’d never been anywhere so wonderful.

And yet, it was all so bittersweet. Because it was borrowed. Temporary. A lie that could come crashing down at any moment. Which meant she couldn’t truly enjoy it. Especially not while Emmett was recovering from his miscast spell, and Gran was left alone to look after him. She didn’t know how to stop worrying, about either of them.

This was Emry’s first time away from her family, and she hadn’t realized it would be so lonely. She’d believed for a while that she’d outgrown Brocelande and her life there, but now, at the castle, she didn’t feel nearly so brave about having left.

So she gazed out at the rooftops, summoning happy memories of home. Of Gran teaching her to bake honey cakes and twisting her hair into braids while it was just the right amount of damp. Of her father, with his tired smile and elegant clothes, swinging her into the air and threatening to let go and see if she could fly. Of Emmett, climbing trees and boasting he’d be able to see all the way to London, to Father, if he just went high enough.

But those memories were old. Stale reminders of the way things had once been, not of what she’d truly left behind. These days, Gran was forgetful, Father was gone, and the only things Emmett boasted about were women and gambling.

She was the only constant, the one piece of the family that had stayed the same while everything else changed with the years and the seasons: a girl who wanted to learn magic, and who felt there had to be more written in her stars than she could see from her narrow bed in her small village.

But now that she was miles from that bed, and from everything she knew, the sky was no more clear on what she was supposed to do with her life, or how she was supposed to do it. Because the stars still looked the same from London, and her questions were all still there, and all just as unanswered.

CHAPTER 7

Well done, Your Highness!” Lance pronounced, lowering his broadsword as though it weighed nothing.

Arthur tugged off his helmet and lowered his own blade. His shoulder ached from the heavy weapon, and he rotated it with a grimace.

“Lance,” Arthur warned. “The truth.”

“You’re getting worse.” Lance pushed his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t know that was even possible.”

“Thanks,” Arthur grumbled.