“Never doubted you could do it,” said Arthur, with a smile that made the room spin all over again. Her stomach fluttered in a way that definitely wasn’t blowback from the spell. The prince’s bed was right there, and she couldn’t help but imagine pulling off his tunic and pushing him back onto those soft pillows and—

No, Emry told herself. Not him. You know why not.

“I, um, I should go,” she said, twisting away and hurrying from the room.

Emry had no sooner left the prince’s rooms than she heard a cold voice call, “You there. Boy.”

She turned to find a glowering Lord Agravaine. He was wearing a dressing gown and carrying an armload of scrolls, and he looked unhappy to have run into her.

“My lord,” Emry said, with a brief bow. She was dizzy enough to botch it, and nearly lost her footing. The corridor spun as she straightened. “Er—did you need help with something?”

“This is a private wing of the castle,” Lord Agravaine accused, as though he suspected she was poking around where she shouldn’t. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” Emry swallowed nervously.

Lord Agravaine cut an imposing figure, but more than that, his whole demeanor was intimidating. The way he watched everything, as though he hoped people would forget he was there and say something they shouldn’t. As though he trafficked in secrets.

For some reason, she didn’t want him to know where she’d really been, or what she’d been doing. Lance had clearly gotten in trouble for something, and anyway, she wanted to attract as little attention as possible. Not rouse the suspicions of one of the king’s closest advisors.

But if he thought she was sneaking around where she wasn’t supposed to be, that was even worse.

Lord Agravaine was still glaring at her, as though he had caught her rifling through his personal effects. For all she knew, she was literally standing outside the door to his rooms.

Sard.

“Spit it out, boy. Unless you would rather explain yourself to the king,” Lord Agravaine threatened.

“I was looking for the, um . . .” Emry said, casting around for a suit-able lie.

Don’t say toilet.

“He was with the prince, my lord,” interrupted the younger of Arthur’s guards, with an obsequious bow. “And Lance.”

Lord Agravaine’s expression soured. “You were looking for?” he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“The way back to my room, from His Highness’s,” Emry finished smoothly.

“Indeed.”

Emry scrambled down the corridor, her heart pounding from the confrontation. She could feel Lord Agravaine’s watchful gaze with every step.

CHAPTER 12