In the small hours of the night, when the last of the mourners had gone, Emrys found Lila in the chapel. She changed into a squire’s uniform, and then Emrys used his magic to carry Arthur’s body out of the castle. This time Arthur’s body was carried between their horses, as if he were injured and unconscious, and they rode at a careful pace through the trees, into the mists of the morning. Lila had no clue where they were going, but Emrys’s horse plodded along easily, so she reckoned Emrys knew where their path lay.

Lila shouldn’t have been surprised when the mists lifted and the horses were standing on the edge of a lake. A small rowboat was tied up near a cluster of reeds, and Emrys dismounted, went to tug it out of the water. He yanked and heaved, but the boat wouldn’t budge. He cursed and yanked at the boat again, but he was too weak.

“Move, damn you!” he yelled, and then he collapsed onto the grass, sobbing. Lila ran to his side.

“Emrys –”

“No,” he said, voice rough. “Just – help me move the boat.”