“You never asked.” Merlin loosened his grip on the reins unconsciously, paying more attention to their conversation than to his riding, and his horse ambled cautiously forward.

“You played the girls’ parts, right?” Lance asked airily.

Merlin stiffened at the assumption, but Arthur saw immediately where Lance had gotten the idea. The wizard was slight of build, with delicate, almost feminine features. And he was certainly dramatic enough for the stage.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I did the special effects.”

“With actual magic?” Lance asked, falling back to ride alongside the lad and eagerly peppering him with questions about conjuring blood and rain.

Every so often, Lance corrected the boy’s grip on his reins, and by the time they reached the forest of Lansdowne, Merlin’s riding was much improved, and Lance’s spirits seemed lifted.

They stopped briefly for lunch in the forest, and reached the other side just as the sun was beginning to set. A small, picturesque village nestled below, its thatched-roof cottages and modest church spire a welcome sight after hours of nothing but trees.

Brannor grimly surveyed their sweat-lathered horses and frowned at the darkening sky. “We’ll rest in the village tonight,” he declared. “I know a decent inn there.”

“Yessir!” Dakin sang out, as though they were riding into battle, and not to soft beds and supper.

“Hold here a moment,” Arthur called.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” Dakin asked with a frown.

Arthur sighed. He’d asked his guards not to call him that while they were traveling discreetly, but they kept forgetting. Dakin especially. The lad wasn’t exactly the sharpest blade in the armory.

“No,” said Arthur. “I just . . . wanted to take in the view for a moment.” It sounded silly after he said it aloud. But the view really was something.

From their vantage above the village, rolling hills and meadows stretched in every direction. The sinking sun bathed everything in a soft, golden light.

Camelot. He forgot sometimes how far it extended beyond London. How the kingdom itself wasn’t suffocating or unbearable. It was just his father’s castle, and his future, that felt so oppressive.

A future that now included marriage to a complete stranger. His heart squeezed at the thought. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps, like with Merlin, his father would have accidentally stumbled onto exactly the right choice.

He unfortunately doubted it. But there was no use worrying about it now. So he tried to put it out of mind and drink in this moment of absolute freedom. To reserve some of it within himself so that, on the next particularly grim day, he would remember. Sky. Horses. His best friend by his side. His clothing unadorned and comfortable, his evening clear of royal responsibilities. A life that, even in small part, still felt like his.

Merlin’s horse nudged up next to his, breaking his train of thought.

“Surveying your kingdom?” the lad asked with a knowing smirk.