The rest of the week fell into a routine. Emry spent her mornings in the workshop with Arthur, brewing draughts and tonics. And she spent her afternoons working with Master Ambrosius on spells that had once intimidated her. She ate her suppers with the old wizard, trying not to glance too often toward the prince at the royal banquet table and failing miserably. Evenings she spent in her room, reading as many books on magic as she could get her hands on, and sighing in relief when no knock sounded on her door before bed.

The sharp way Lord Agravaine had looked at her—as though he would be all too happy to unearth her secrets. It made her uneasy.

She supposed it was for the best that she was leaving. Things had gotten far too complicated. She’d meant to keep her head down, but after she’d met Arthur, that plan had gone out the window.

Emmett was going to kill her when he found out she’d gone around conjuring magic swords and casting healing spells and nearly fainting in the prince’s bedchamber. But then, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t gambled more than he could pay and tried to fix it with a terrible spell. So really, he could only blame himself.

She hadn’t wanted to pretend to be her brother at court. But in the moment, she hadn’t seen another choice. Besides, she was the one who’d had to prove herself as an apprentice. She was the one who had to chop off her hair and trade her airy linen dresses for a stifling jacket, doublet, and trews in the peak of summer heat. She had ensured Father’s legacy was kept alive, instead of letting it pass to some unworthy stranger, along with money they so desperately needed.

Emmett should be thanking her. Not that her brother ever admitted that he was in her debt. He was too proud. Like Father had been. Or maybe all boys expected the world to bend to their desires, while Emry was wise enough to know that, as a girl, she needed to prove herself twice over just to be offered a chance.

At least it wouldn’t be any trouble to slip away and switch back. Arthur’s cousin Gawain was due to arrive at the castle the same night she was swapping places with Emmett. And with all of the excitement over the arrival of Lord and Lady Agravaine’s eldest son, who stood third in line for the throne, it would be easy to disappear unnoticed.

Still, when that final evening came and Emry took one last look at her room, she wished leaving didn’t hurt quite so much. She wouldn’t have the chance to say goodbye. To Master Ambrosius, or to Arthur, or even Lance.