They had. They were floating where they’d lost the sword. Emry squinted toward the shore. They were in the middle of the lake, and the sun was sinking fast.

“I guess we row?” She offered him an oar.

Arthur leveled her with a look that plainly said, Not happening. He bent down, tugging off his boots.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Going after my sword,” he said, as though it was obvious. He pulled open the neck of his tunic, and Emry flushed scarlet. “By all means, just sit there.”

Emry rolled her eyes and dug her wand out of her coat. “Erigo,” she said, pointing it at the water.

The lake emitted a rude noise that sounded remarkably like a wet fart.

“I don’t think it’s coming back,” she said.

“It has to,” Arthur said desperately, wrenching his linen tunic over his head.

He was very shirtless. Like a skin statue.

Emry glanced away, but not before Arthur unbuckled the scabbard from around his waist.

“You’re not going in—naked?” she gasped, horrified.

“We both are. Clothes off, wizard.”

Arthur folded his arms across his bare chest, waiting for her disrobe.

Oh no. There had to be a way out of this. She just had to think of one—fast.

Emry hoped the panic didn’t show on her face. She reached for her boots, tugging one off as slowly as she could manage. She couldn’t take her clothes off, but she couldn’t very well go in with them on.

When she glanced up, Arthur was unfastening his codpiece.

Emry’s panic flared.

Help! she thought. Boat! Why aren’t you moving?

As if it understood her, the boat lurched forward, speeding toward Avalon once again.

She was so relieved that she almost laughed. She had no idea what she’d done, but it had worked, which was all that mattered.

“No!” Arthur cried, twisting over the side, looking for his lost sword. “Stop!”

Don’t you dare, thought Emry.

At that, the boat actually went faster.

Good boat.

This was much easier than riding a horse. Or, for that matter, rowing a boat.

Magic didn’t work on magic, but apparently asking the magic to do what she wanted wasn’t out of the question. Good to know.

She snuck another look at Arthur, still barefoot and shirtless, standing at the prow of the boat. She swallowed thickly, managing to wrench her gaze away.

“Better get dressed,” she said, tossing him his tunic. “Unless you want to greet the Lady of the Lake wearing nothing but your hose.”

A tall, ethereal woman waited for them at the water’s edge. The gossamer white of her dress shone against her copper-brown skin. Her face was ageless, and her dark hair, which hung in loose waves to her waist, was dressed with leaves and flowers. She stood still as a statue, her eyes the pale gray of morning mist.