Arthur sighed as he wandered through the corridors of Dobria castle. His father had sent him to negotiate an alliance with Lord Laurence, meaning that he had spent his entire day in the council room debating over terms. The day had felt unusually long without Merlin there to pick on, and Arthur just wanted to find a quiet place to clear his thoughts.
His search eventually found him drifting into the library, his steps muffled by the rows of leather bound tomes. As he came around the corner of a shelf, he noticed a young woman standing by the window, seemingly preoccupied with something in her hands. Arthur cleared his throat to alert her of his presence, in case she hadn’t noticed. “Excuse me?”
Summer flicked the fan open and shut, open and shut, staring out of the window. Betwyr was working out with Edward, down in the practise field, and she’d been watching them for a while, until her attention drifted. The fan snapped shut in her hands when someone cleared their throat behind her, and she whirled around, hair and skirts swirling.
It turned out to be the blond young lord — prince, she thought she recalled — who had ridden in the day before to make an alliance with them against Odin, looming to the north. He seemed even younger up close, off his horse — much closer to her own age than she expected. She offered a quick curtesy. “Yes, my lord?”