“To Avalon,” said Arthur.

“The Isle of the Blessed?” Master Ambrosius sounded impressed. “Your father agreed to that?”

“He did,” Arthur said, entirely too pleased with himself. “It was his idea for me to take Merlin along.”

Emry almost dropped her mug. Somehow she’d missed that part. “Wait, what?” she said, horrified. “You mean an actual quest?”

“How else am I supposed to get answers about my sword?” Arthur grinned. “Lance is coming, too. It’ll be a proper adventure.”

“How far is it to Avalon?” Emry asked, trying to tamp down her panic. Maybe it was a day quest. The kind where they packed a picnic and were home by nightfall.

“Two days either side,” said Arthur.

Emry choked. Posing as her brother at the castle was one thing, but holding her disguise for four days on the road? Or more? Where was she supposed to pee? And what about sleeping arrangements?

Oh, this was a nightmare. Couldn’t she just stay here and learn magic and sleep in her comfortable bed with its en suite privy and wake up every morning to fresh cups of coffee and warm bread in the kitchens?

“You’ll have to go without me,” she said, sagging back in the chair and playing up her fatigue. “I’ll never recover in time.”

“Nonsense,” protested the old wizard. “You’ll be fine by supper.”

Emry shot him a murderous glare.

“Then it’s decided,” Arthur said happily. “We leave at dawn.”

CHAPTER 15

Arthur couldn’t stop grinning as he rode through the castle gates the next morning. Free at last—for a few days, anyway.

Still, a sliver of freedom was better than none at all. Even so, he felt certain that, at any moment, one of his father’s messengers would catch up with them, claiming there had been a terrible mistake and they were to return to the castle immediately.

But no messenger came, and the pale light of early morning gave way to clear afternoon sunshine. The timbered houses turned to thatched cottages and pastures and rolling hills, and just like that, London and the castle were far behind.

His two guards rode at the front, chatting amongst themselves. About what, he had no clue, since they fell silent whenever he was around. He wished they were more like Lance—friends with swords who could hang—but after he’d been declared heir to the kingdom, his father had chosen his guards personally.