Under ordinary circumstances, she would have been quite pleased at the girl’s interest, and would have flirted back. A person’s gender made no difference to her. But Emry knew that any girl who smiled in her direction at Castle Camelot did so because they thought she was a boy, which utterly ruined it.

No matter what she did, no one ever seemed to like her for her. A problem her rake of a brother didn’t seem to share. Everyone loved a handsome, powerful wizard, but who wasn’t intimidated by a girl who was magic?

A boy who is going to be king, a small, traitorous voice whispered in her head, just as the prince rounded the corner.

“Wizard,” he said, as though surprised to find her there. “Were you waiting for me?”

She stared at him, flustered. He looked well that evening, in a brown suede jacket with shining gold buttons and a high collar that emphasized his chiseled jawline. The color brought out the chestnut tones in his windswept hair. He smelled faintly of horses, as though he’d been riding.

“Um, I wanted to apologize again,” she blurted. “For this morning.”

Arthur frowned, as though he’d entirely forgotten about it. “Oh, it’s fine,” he said. “Master Ambrosius can be tough sometimes.”

“You could have warned me,” Emry said.

“And you could have warned me that you can think magic,” he retorted as they fell into step down the tapestry-lined corridor. They passed a trio of court ladies, whom Arthur favored with a brief bow, before accusing, “You did it last night, too, with that book.”

Emry winced. The prince was far too observant.

“I thought I was imagining things,” Arthur admitted. “I never saw your father cast a spell like that.”

“Neither did I,” Emry said.

It felt so strange, these constant reminders that her father had lived here. That these hallways and the people in them were new to her, but had belonged to the life her father had led when he was away. A life she had known so little about.

“Although,” she added with a frown, “you probably saw more of him growing up than I did.”

“Lance and I terrorized him.” Arthur sounded pleased. “I believe we once begged for a horse, but green, and could he please make it breathe fire.”

Emry snorted. “You couldn’t have just asked for a dragon?” she asked.

“In our defense, we were four,” said Arthur. “Actually, Lance was five. He should have known better.”

Arthur grinned, but Emry just shook her head. After last night’s demands for two magic swords, she could picture it easily.

“Arthur! There you are!” called Lance, hurrying to catch up to them.