Arthur winced. He’d hoped they’d forgotten about that. “No, there really isn’t,” he said wearily.

His hand went to his hair. The circlet slipped backward, clattering to the floor. It rolled, hitting the wall with a clang. A servant gingerly retrieved it, handing it to Arthur with a slight bow.

When he looked up, the entire council was staring at him. Not to mention his father. And the guards. And the young attendant who’d retrieved his circlet, and who was trying very hard to become wallpaper.

“You object?” Uther asked, an edge to his voice.

“Of course I object,” said Arthur. “Nineteen is far too young to think about marriage. Besides, with all of my responsibilities, and tutors, and training, I don’t have the time to romance a potential wife.”

“Which is why I’ve found the ideal candidate,” said the king. “Her mother is a princess of Portugal in her own right. Her father holds the largest kingdom in France.”

Arthur frowned, trying to discern which eligible princess they were discussing. And then it clicked, and he snorted, because surely his father wasn’t serious. “Very funny,” he said.

Except no one was laughing.

“To be perfectly honest,” said the king, “I wasn’t expecting such a match. I doubt you’ll do better.”

Arthur shook his head in disbelief.

“Princess Anne is a wonderful choice,” insisted Lord Agravaine.

“Princess Anne is seven years old,” Arthur said. “I’m sure she would rather have a pony than a fiancé.”

“I’m told she already has several, Your Highness,” said Lord Howell.

“Fiancés?” Arthur asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Ponies,” Lord Howell corrected, looking flustered.

“The wedding wouldn’t take place until the princess is at least fifteen,” said Lord Agravaine. “As you said, you’re too young and busy right now.”

Sard. He had said that. Lord Agravaine was sharp. But Arthur was sharper. And he knew just how to make the members of his father’s council squirm.

“Eight years is a very long time,” said Arthur mildly. “Shall I assume producing some illegitimate heirs in the meantime isn’t out of the question?”

Uther coughed into his wineglass, and Arthur held back a smile.

“Actually, Your Highness—” began Lord Agravaine, but whatever the man had to say on the subject of illegitimate heirs, Arthur really didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s a ridiculous match,” Arthur interrupted. “I refuse.”

“I doubt an opportunity such as this will come again,” said King Uther. “France does not offer alliances lightly. But the king is convinced you’ll one day rule as High King of England.”

Uther shook his head, acknowledging the absurdity of such an event ever occurring. More than a few members of his council smiled as though amused at the idea.

“This is about the sword, isn’t it?” Arthur asked.