That fight Lance had gotten into, defending his honor, and being punished for it. How everyone at court said his name as if they wished they could change the subject—well, everyone except Arthur.

And she trusted the prince’s judgment. No wonder Arthur was so protective of his friend. The way they were so often together; it wasn’t because Lance was protecting Arthur, it was actually the opposite.

She should have realized something was going on that night Lance had injured his wrist. It was obvious, in retrospect. She felt like a fool for stirring up trouble when they were all exhausted from a long day’s ride. She’d been so terrified of her secret being discovered that she hadn’t thought about anyone else.

She pulled up the blanket, her eyes adjusting to the dark. It wasn’t so bad, sharing the bed. She was ashamed she’d made such a fuss over it. She curled onto her side, her back toward Lance, which of course meant she was staring across the short expanse at the sleeping prince.

The distance between them was so small that, if she reached out, she could touch his cheek. A hint of stubble shadowed his jawline, and she imagined running a finger across it. Imagined Arthur opening his soft brown eyes and smiling at her. Imagined the rest of the room, and its occupants, melting away, until it was just the two of them, alone.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

No, Emry scolded herself, stop catching feelings for the prince.

Nothing good could come of this.

She had better get ahold of herself, and fast.

CHAPTER 17

They left the inn at dawn, and made good time to Bedwynn Forest, not that Arthur was paying much attention to the road. He was more concerned with Lance, whose expression was downright tragic.

“Just say it,” Arthur insisted midway through the morning.

“Why did you even invite me?” Lance sighed, and Arthur didn’t blame him for being hurt.

“I thought it would be like old times.” Arthur cringed as he heard the words come out of his mouth.

Lance leveled him with a glare. “Yeah, just you and me. And your magic sword and company of assholes.” And then he urged his horse forward, riding between Arthur and his guards.

Arthur shook his head. He’d thought—well, Dakin’s stance was no surprise, but Merlin? Ugh. He’d expected better. He had half a mind to give the lad a verbal thrashing for how he’d behaved.

But when he dropped back, he was surprised that Merlin looked even more miserable than Lance.

“Rough night?” Arthur asked, not very nicely.

“It’s not what you think,” the wizard said, ducking his head in embarrassment.

“Isn’t it?” Arthur said coolly.

“I don’t share beds. With anyone.” The boy deliberated before adding, “Sometimes I, um, accidentally cast spells. In my sleep.”

“In your sleep?” Arthur said curiously.