“Savoring my freedom,” Arthur admitted, an embarrassed smile rising to his lips.

Merlin smiled back, and Arthur found himself staring at the delicate, soft pink of the boy’s mouth. His pulse quickened, and he cleared his throat, glancing away, and urging his horse into a trot.

CHAPTER 16

The inn was a welcome sight, even though the building tilted forward precariously, and the windows were so slender that Emry wondered if they were any use at all. Not that she cared. The place could have been a windowless hovel, and she would have been overjoyed to see it.

She was dusty and sore after a long day’s ride. Not to mention annoyed that the prince had picked up on her clumsy riding. It had been easier to feign inexperience on a horse, rather than have him guess the truth: that she had only ridden pillion or sidesaddle, as anything else would have caused a scandal and, apparently, done away with her virginity.

Well, that ship had departed a year ago, thanks to a troublesome playwright who’d neglected to mention his wife and son back in Warwick. And it had been nothing at all like sitting astride a saddle, so she had no idea what the fuss was about. In either case.

Emry had expected the inn to be quiet, but the main room was full of travelers. Men in dusty cloaks hunched over their cups, and a rowdy table in a corner had a game of dice going.

Thankfully, no one seemed to pay them much mind. After a long day of riding, their company looked just as unremarkable as everyone else.

Still, Arthur put up his hood, and Emry saw Lance’s hand go to the sword concealed beneath his cloak.

“Popular place,” said Lance, glancing around uneasily.

“A day’s ride exactly from London,” Brannor grunted. “We ’ent the only travelers who rest at nightfall.”

“All of the tables are taken,” Dakin complained.

“There’s one, in the corner,” Arthur said, pointing out a small round table crammed up against the hearth.

Lance went to make arrangements for supper and some rooms, and Emry followed the rest of them toward the terrible table. At first the guards balked to sit with the prince, but Arthur shot them a look.

“If you want to draw unnecessary attention, by all means, keep standing,” he said mildly.

The guards gingerly took their seats. Emry had no such qualms. After all, she’d been sharing a table with Arthur most mornings in the wizard’s workshop, often with him carrying up a second cup of coffee unasked. It was easy to forget who he was sometimes. That this brilliant, rumpled, dreamy-eyed boy was the crown prince of Camelot. That the sword casually belted around his dusty tunic was the sword in the stone.