“You can’t always control magic,” Merlin retorted. “Anyway. I feel horrible. I was so panicked about my own problem that I never even thought about anyone else. I only realized afterward how bad it sounded.”

Arthur could see that the lad was sincerely sorry. So all right, maybe he hadn’t meant to cause such a terrible scene.

“You could have said something,” Arthur said harshly.

Merlin shot him a skeptical look. “Right. And if I confessed that I might accidentally set fire to the curtains, your guards wouldn’t have made me sleep in the stables?”

The wizard had a point. Brannor probably would have put him out with the horses.

“I’m not the one you owe an apology,” said Arthur.

“I know.”

“Well, I am, and I’ll gladly take one,” Lance called, falling back to join them. “Or three. Is the casting spells in your sleep more like a fart, or more like—”

“Lance,” Arthur cut in.

“Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

“Definitely not,” Arthur protested, shaking his head. Although he certainly was now.

At least Lance seemed to be in better spirits, Arthur thought. There was never a dull moment where Merlin was concerned.

“Wait. I’ve smelled like rosemary all morning,” Lance accused, turning to the wizard. “Did you magic my clothes clean last night? In your sleep?”

“No, I did that on purpose,” Merlin said. “You smelled like a horse.”

They reached the lake as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and Emry suspected the priestesses knew they were coming. A small and ancient rowboat was waiting at the dock, along with a young woman in a long white dress, who promised to see to their horses.

Brannor eyed the girl suspiciously, as though she might be a threat, while Dakin preened, hoping to impress her. The girl soundly ignored him, much to Emry’s delight. She caught Lance’s eye, and he shook his head over Dakin’s ridiculous strutting.

Thank goodness she’d been able to straighten out their misunderstanding. Even if it had meant telling yet another lie. Well, more of a stretch than a total fabrication. She really had set fire to the curtains in her sleep one time. Of course, she’d been twelve, and just starting to go through puberty. She hadn’t realized she’d also bleed magic.

But it had been a convenient excuse, and one that Arthur and Lance had readily accepted for her panic over their sleeping arrangements. Maybe now she’d get a bed to herself. Although sharing with Lance wasn’t the worst. Especially if it proved a point to Dakin.

Earlier that afternoon, while they rode, Lance had finally explained how he’d become a guard. She couldn’t imagine having her heart broken and having everyone believe such a terrible lie at the same time. Emry felt awful for him.