Arthur blinked at it, as though he’d forgotten he was in the presence of a wizard.

“I drank your coffee.” Emry shrugged. “Now we’re even.”

When they finished the tincture, Master Ambrosius inspected the vials and nodded his approval.

“Well done, lads,” he said.

Emry beamed at the praise, but Arthur merely looked embarrassed. He pulled out a gold pocket watch and consulted it with an apologetic frown.

“Off with you,” Master Ambrosius said, flapping his hands at the prince, who took his leave with a neat bow.

Emry’s stomach grumbled, and she stared at the wizard hopefully.

“You,” he said, “may get something to eat from the kitchens. But then you’re right back here to learn the spellcraft for this.”

Her mouth fell open. “You mean I could have magicked that?” she asked.

“Not without first knowing how to make the tincture,” said the wizard. “To effectively and safely work magic on a living person, you must know more than just the words to the spell. You must understand what you’re asking of the magic.”

“Or else the magic could refuse.” Emry finished, thinking of what had happened to her brother. The old wizard nodded, looking pleased.

“So you see, Arthur learns what he can, and you learn what you must, and if the two of you work together?” The wizard shrugged. “Well, it’s good practice for the future.”

“Right. The future,” Emry echoed. Too bad she wouldn’t stick around long enough to see it.

CHAPTER 9

The council meeting was never going to end.

Sir Bors rambled on about the Lothian court rejecting another request for an exchange of ambassadors, and Arthur resisted the urge to sigh. Between his practice session with Lance and his morning in the wizard’s workshop, the day had already stretched on for what felt like a week. At least.

He reached up to run a hand through his hair, remembering just in time that he was wearing his circlet. No wonder he was getting a headache.

Lance had been right, though, about befriending Merlin. The young wizard wasn’t nearly so bad as he’d feared. And Arthur had expected the worst, since his father had chosen the lad. But Merlin had turned out to be surprisingly decent company. And from all accounts of yesterday’s demonstration before the court, he had quite a talent for magic. It was a rare occasion his father managed to get something right, and in this case, Arthur was pleasantly surprised.

He glanced at his father, who sat at the head of the table, more interested in his goblet of wine than in Sir Bors’s report.