Read an Excerpt From The Future King

Emry Merlin should be living her best life as a wizard’s apprentice.

We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Future King by Robyn Schneider, the second book in the Emry Merlin YA fantasy series, out from Viking Books for Young Readers on March 21.

Emry Merlin should be living her best life as a wizard’s apprentice. Now that she no longer has to pretend to be her brother to study magic, she and Prince Arthur are closer than ever. Except King Uther has warned her to stay away from his son, and Emry’s magic is growing more unpredictable by the day.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s prophesied future as the One True King is closing in. And as his wedding to Princess Guinevere draws nearer, he discovers she’s hiding a shocking secret. When Emry learns that the only hope to fix her increasingly dangerous magic is an eccentric Parisian alchemist, Arthur has his own reasons for accompanying her to French court, and for befriending an infamous crowd of young nobles.

But it’s going to take a lot more than a depressed gargoyle, some obscenely tight trousers, and a deadly sports match to keep our young heroes from their destiny. Can these reluctant royals and wayward wizards set aside their drama and save their kingdom, or is Camelot doomed?

CHAPTER 4

Emry stared up at her bedroom ceiling, her heart and her thoughts racing.

It had been four days since the incident at the tavern, and she still didn’t know what was wrong with her magic. Thankfully, no similar incidents had happened again. Which was a relief. Master Ambrosius would never keep her as an apprentice if there was a risk her magic could get away from her. Especially if it could cause harm to those around her.

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The Future King

But keeping her problem a secret while figuring out how to fix it was proving trickier than she’d expected. She’d tried to borrow some likely looking books from the wizard’s workshop, but the old wizard had come up behind her, asking what she was searching for, and she hadn’t dared to take anything about Anwen. Instead, she’d pretended to be interested in a dreadful potions book, and had mumbled a flimsy excuse about wanting to lengthen her hair.

Perhaps there was a book in the castle library that might help explain her problem. The magic section was vast, and Master Ambrosius had just as often sent her there for books as he had pulled volumes from his own shelves.

It wouldn’t hurt to check.

Emry dressed quickly, pulling on the boys’ clothes that were still draped across the back of her chair. And then she crept down the darkened castle corridors and pushed open the grand double doors of the library.

A single candelabra was lit, and in its dim glow, a familiar figure sat at one of the long tables.

A handsome young man, pale and brown-haired, with an angular face made sharper in the candlelight. He was dressed in just a tunic and hose, a lock of hair dangling over one eye. He looked up in alarm, clearly not expecting anyone.

“Sorry,” Emry apologized. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s all right.” Arthur’s mouth lifted into a grin. “I probably wasn’t going to do much with the year of my life I just lost to fright.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching. “Didn’t realize anyone else was up so late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same.”

As Emry got closer, she could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the resigned weariness of his posture. This wasn’t the first night he’d spent reading late in the library, she realized. Just the first night that he’d been caught.

He gestured toward a chair. “Join me?”

Emry bit her lip. She hadn’t expected to see him here, like this. For the two of them to wind up alone in the place where she had given in, and kissed him back. She could still remember how the spines of the library books had dug into her back the night of the ball. And how naive she had been, going along with it, and thinking that princes ever wound up with girls like her as anything more than a secret dalliance.

I want you to be my court wizard, he’d said. Isn’t that enough?

But that wasn’t what he wanted—not really. And if she was being honest, it wasn’t what she wanted, either. But it was the way things had to be.

“I’d appreciate the company,” Arthur urged, sensing her hesitation.

“Is it so difficult for you to find company, Your Highness?” Emry replied, breaking into a grin.

Arthur glared. “Shut up and grab your books, wizard,” he ordered.

“I will. What are you reading?” she asked, her voice echoing through the cavernous library.

Arthur lifted a finger to his lips, looking nervously to his right. For the first time, Emry noticed the second figure a few tables away: Arthur’s loathsome guard, Dakin, who was fast asleep with his legs propped on a table, his mouth hanging open. The guard let out a nasal snore.

“I’m trying to find out what happened to Morgana,” Arthur admitted. “Or, at the very least, determine whether she still poses a threat.”

Emry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What have you learned so far?”

“Not much.” Arthur sighed. “I can’t understand half the magical terms without stopping to look them up, and my Old English is incredibly rusty.”

“Mine isn’t.”

“Does that mean you’re offering to help?” He looked so hopeful, as though he very much wanted her to say yes.

Dangerous, a voice warned. You’re supposed to stay away. But Arthur had exactly the books she was looking for. If there was an answer to her magic problems, it was in those books. And helping him would be a convenient excuse for her to pore over them. But more than that, she couldn’t leave him to this task alone.

“I suppose,” she said.

“Well then.” He gestured toward a chair and Emry took a seat.

“You’re dressed as a boy again,” he pointed out.

“Oh. Yeah.” Emry shrugged. Some days dresses didn’t feel right, but she didn’t want to explain that, so she simply said, “Less buttons.”

A corner of Arthur’s mouth lifted. “I like it. Reminds me of old times.” He pushed a stack of books across the table. “Take a look at these. Let me know if anything jumps out.”

They read in companionable silence for a while. Emry had forgotten how easy it was to be around Arthur, and how impossible. He had saved her life, risking his own, and the future of Camelot. And now the two of them were alone, and she wasn’t prepared for it.

She wished he’d stop looking at her like that. Like he was still the boy she’d mistaken for a librarian all those months ago. Like he would ride off to her rescue, consequences be damned. Like the only future he wanted was one by her side.

His fingers brushed hers as they reached for the same book, and he didn’t move them away.

“Arthur,” she warned, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her traitorous hand stayed where it was, touching his.

“What?” he unleashed the full force of his grin. “It’s only Dakin here, and he’s asleep.”

Dakin, who would certainly report to the king that he’d found the two of them together in the library together late at night.

Emry pulled her hand away. “I told you. We shouldn’t.”

“Even though you want to,” Arthur accused softly.

He was right. She did want to. And she couldn’t pretend otherwise. Which was why she couldn’t wind up in compromising positions like this one. Alone in the library, in the dim candlelight, with the dreamy-eyed prince who made her heart beat faster and her insides go molten. It only made things harder.

There was nothing back for her in Brocelande. This job was her father’s legacy. And she couldn’t put it at risk because she had feelings for someone she could never be with. She wasn’t throwing away her shot just because Arthur was a good kisser. Fine, an excellent kisser. One who knew exactly how to make her—

No. Focus.

“What I want,” Emry snapped, “is none of your business.”

“My apologies, wizard.”

Arthur sighed and went to return a stack of books to the shelves. Emry glared at his back, flipping the page of her book with perhaps more force than was necessary. The vellum sliced into her finger, and a line of blood welled up.

“Ow!” she whined.

Dakin gave a startled snore, and Emry’s heart lurched in a panic. He couldn’t wake up and find her here. It would be a disaster. She needed—oh no—belatedly, she felt the icy prickle of Anwen’s magic.

And then she looked down, horrified. A small flame burned over each palm. Her skin was unharmed, but the sleeves of her dress were beginning to singe. Stop that! Emry begged of the unfamiliar magic. Go away! She closed her fists, but the flames curled through her fingers undeterred. She could feel the magic rushing through her veins.

Arthur poked his head out of the stacks. “Is something burning?”

“No,” Emry replied, trying to shove the unwelcome magic back down. But it didn’t work. The room was too hot. No, not the room. She was too warm.

The magic wouldn’t stop until it got what it wanted. And it wanted to be used.

She needed to get out of there—now. She grabbed her cloak and rushed out of the castle, heading for the royal hunting grounds. She didn’t know where she was going, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting as far away from the castle—and everyone in it—as she could manage.

The night air was a welcome relief against her burning skin. She darted through the trees, trying to ignore the hum and rattle of insects. You’re a wizard, she reminded herself. The forest should be afraid of you. Besides, it wasn’t a real forest. Not like the woods back home behind their cottage, wild and dangerous and unknown.

Finally, she came to a clearing that held the crumbling remains of an old church. Not a church of the current faith, she realized, noting the runes carved above the lintel, and the odd, circular roof. A thin stream trickled past, silver in the moonlight.

Emry pushed back her hood and took a deep, steadying breath. The purple flames pulsed impatiently in her palms, and then turned into swirls of black smoke.

This was new.

The magic shot out, thickening and swirling, until the entire clearing was coated with darkness. Emry couldn’t see anything, not even her own hands. The strange darkness pressed against her, filled with whispers too faint to make out. Emry’s chest clenched as she shuffled blindly through the darkness, her hands out in front of her. Suddenly, she tripped over a tree root and stumbled beyond the edge of the magic. It was an enormous black cloud, she saw, and she had no idea how she’d created it, or why.

“Go away,” Emry tried. “Shoo, cloud.”

Nothing.

She waited, counting the agonizing seconds until the darkness finally began to shrink. Soon, it was just a plume of smoke, and then nothing at all. The unfamiliar magic slithered obediently away, and Emry gasped as the familiar prickle of her own power returned.

She sagged against a tree trunk, breathing hard, her hands shaking. Perhaps all the magic had wanted was to be used, and now everything would be fine. But somehow, she doubted it.