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WHEN I COME to, the mesmer headache in my skull blooms bright and full. It takes everything I have to simply pull my head upright and open my eyes.

A slow voice finds me in the dim light. “She awakens.”

It takes a few blinks for my eyes to focus. I’m in a lamplit office. No, a study—Lord Davis’s study, where Sel and I were just last weekend.

Nick’s father sits at the desk across from me, his fingertips templed on its inlaid leather writing surface. Lightning flashes outside the window to my right, illuminating the angles of his cheekbones and deep-set eyes. For a moment, he looks like Nick.

“Where is Nick?” I move as if to stand but only get an inch off the chair I’m sitting in. I look down to see rope wrapped around my wrists, tying me to the armrests. Even my ankles are tied to the chair, somewhere underneath the layers of my dress. Dread chills me from the inside out. “Let me go!”

“My apologies about the restraints.” His Southern charm and its gentle tones of hospitality and care feel twisted now. Calculated. He inclines his head toward the rope around my arms. “I had a feeling you’d decline my invitation to chat.”

“Abduction is not an invitation,” I say through gritted teeth. “Where is Nick?”

He ignores me and stands up to circle around the desk, tugging at his tie as he walks. “How much do you know about our heritage, Briana?”

Our heritage. Not mine. The Order’s heritage and history. His and Nick’s.

“Thirteen knights. Merlin. The Round Table…” I turn my gaze inward and search for my Bloodcraft, for the part of me that might be able to burn these ropes, but nothing responds. I’ve shoved my grandmother away so far I can’t reach her. My insides feel like they’re full of numbing cotton. Why can’t I—

“Don’t bother tryin’ to get free,” Davis says without turning. “Isaac’s mesmer is quite draining, even for you.”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “Oh yes. We know about your inherent resistance to mesmer. Isaac saw Selwyn’s mark inside your skull earlier tonight. Remnants of a memory replacement that, it appears, never took. Further reason to take you in.”

I don’t bother denying it. If that’s all he thinks I can do, the better for me.

He crosses the room to pull down a wall map of Western Europe. “There were one hundred and fifty knights of the Round Table at first. The table bein’ metaphorical at this point, of course.” He taps the map with his knuckle. “And these knights were known all throughout Europe.”

“Wonderful for them,” I snap.

Davis hums and turns away from the map. He props himself on the edge of his desk. “Legends of individual knights’ feats and chivalry stretch even beyond that, even as far as Africa.”

The casual tone in his voice does nothing to hide where he’s going. What he might say. Fear grips my body.

His voice is easy, light. A gentleman making an innocent inquiry. “Have you heard of the knight called Moriaen?”

He waits, smile patient and smug, for my response. The moment stretches out between us, endless and strained, until I reply, my voice thin as air. “No.”

“Ah,” he says, staring down at a silver ring on his left hand that he twists idly back and forth. “That’s understandable. Legend tells us that the knight Aglovale, son of King Pellinore and brother to four other knights of the Table including our own Lamorak, once traveled to what were then known as Moorish lands. There he fell in love with a Moorish princess and got her with child. By all accounts, their son, Moriaen, grew up to be a formidable fighter—tall, strong, skilled in battle. Moriaen wore a shield and armor and, as grandson to Pellinore and nephew to so many valorous knights, it must have seemed a sure thing that he, too, would join the Table.”

The hot blanket of sudden humiliation suffocates me, makes it impossible to breathe.

Davis looks at me, false concern settling across his brow. “But Moriaen did not join the Table. Do you know why, Briana?”

I swallow around the thick, burning rage in my throat. “No.”

“Because he was not worthy.” He clasps his hands in his lap, eyes unreadable. “Just as you are not worthy. Not for Camlann, and not for my son.”

My voice rings oddly, like someone else is speaking from a room far away. “Nick has already decided that I am.”

“Nick doesn’t see the grand vision of his ascension. What the return of the king means, and what it can restore. The opportunity of Camlann that I never had.”

I glare at him, fresh rage lacing my voice. “You think war is an opportunity ?”

He looks surprised, as if I’ve mistaken red for blue. “All wars are opportunities. And I won’t let another one pass me by.”

“Pass you…” I trail off. My heart pounds as details return. “You wanted Camlann when you were a Scion. You wanted Arthur to Call you.”

“Of course I did.” Lord Davis tilts his head. “You wouldn’t understand the frustration of a Scion who has never been Called, but for a Scion of Arthur? To be that close to that much power and be forced to wait for it to come to you? The impotence was intolerable. But that’s not why I am accelerating Camlann. That, I’m doing for my son’s future and the future health of the Order.” He waves his hand at the paintings on his walls, the old books. “In the old days, Vassals served us in exchange for protection. Now, CEOs and politicians expect Lieges to follow their whims, give them what they want. Vassal infighting pits Lines against Lines. Once, ladies were respected and honored at court, but then the Order of the Rose fell to the wayside and now women sit at the Table, when Malory tells us that ‘the very purpose of a knight is to fight on behalf of a lady’! And now my son’s foolishness in choosing you , who sits at the crux of two faults. Can you not see the sickness here? How the corruption must be rooted out and corrected?”

Two faults. My race and my gender.

But they are not faults. They are strength.

And I am more than this man can comprehend.

Lord Davis watches me, waiting for an answer with open curiosity on his face. The disconnect in his eyes, the cold way he talks about war and power… Suddenly, I remember the records, the affidavit, his signature at the bottom—and sickening horror floods me.

“It was you. You opened the Gates twenty-five years ago. You laid out the welcome mat for the Shadowborn, invited them right into our world.”

I expect him to deny it. Call me a liar. But he doesn’t. Instead, he wags a finger. “Isaac told me he could smell both you and Selwyn here in my study. I imagine you availed yourself of my archives while he pursued his very inconvenient ‘mole’ theory?”

“You aren’t even denying it,” I breathe. “You got people killed! My m—” I start, then stop. He has no idea about who I really am. That my mother suffered because of his greed. I don’t want to raise her name here. Don’t want to give him any more power over me.

He hums, sliding off the desk. “I admit, it was a failed experiment. I’d hoped to create the threat of Camlann through the sheer numbers of Shadowborn crossin’ and the loss of Onceborn life, as you might infer from the tenets of our mission. ‘Protect the Onceborns from the scourge.’ It took a few more years of research before I realized that the more the Scions themselves were threatened, the more the Calling would occur.”

“Sel was right. There was someone on the inside opening the Gates on campus. You.” Memories piece themselves together faster now. “The night of the First Oath, you asked him if his abilities were failing him—that was just to make him question himself. And your threat to remove him as Nick’s Kingsmage, that was just to get him out of the way.”

“I can’t take all of the credit for Selwyn’s paranoia, Briana. Gates are opening at an increased rate up and down the coast, at every chapter. I simply pushed things along where I could.”

“You were going to torture him!”

He shrugs. “The Kane boy needs to be leashed.”

My teeth grind together at his flippant response to Sel’s pain. The disregard for the child he raised.

I cycle through all of the Shadowborn attacks in the past two weeks, starting with the first at the Quarry, the hound on campus, the Oath—“You’re the one who brought the hounds and the uchel to the Oath that night, aren’t you?”

Lord Davis tips an imaginary hat. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, don’t I? Nick’s unexpected arrival made things a bit more dramatic than I’d planned, but you helped serve a great purpose. He saw you injured, saw me fall to the uchel.” He drops his hands into his pockets, clucking his tongue. “It was a strong start, but I still needed to open the Gates at other chapters so that all of the Lines were at risk. And now there are only two Lines left to Awaken.”

“You’re putting your own son at risk,” I sputter. “And all the Lines, too. If Nick falls—”

“Nick will not fall. I’ve trained him far too well for that. He is a natural-born leader and does not tolerate harm to innocents. He’s made for this war.”

“This manufactured war, you mean,” I spit.

“The world is a great chain of being, and everyone has their place. Even you. Even me. The hierarchy that holds the Order together has lost its value because the danger has appeared distant. Once the Vassals are reminded of the destruction we prevent, they will be reminded of their place in things. Their place under the king.”

“You mean Nick,” I retort. “Your time as the Scion of Arthur has passed.”

That makes him angry. “Nicholas is a hero to his core. If it’s necessary, I will show him how I have learned to open the Gates, and how I will continue to if he doesn’t follow my lead. He will be Called by Arthur and take up Excalibur tonight and, as king, he will do as I say. Then the whole of the Order and its Vassals around the globe will bend to our will.”

“Well, I won’t,” I say, clenching my fists against the ropes.

His expression shifts to pleasantly amused just as there’s a knock at the door. “Right on time,” he says, as if we’d just ordered room service at a fancy hotel.

When the door opens, my whole world cracks into a million excruciating shards.

Alice enters the room in her matching polka dotted pajamas as if sleepwalking, her face slack and eyes half-open—with Isaac holding her tight at his side.

“Alice?” I cry. “Alice!”

She sways, silent, and her forehead glistens like she’s sweating out a fever.

“Alice!”

Davis leans away, wincing with a finger to his ear. “No need to yell. She can’t hear you.”

Fury races through my body like a forest fire. “What have you done to her?” Isaac bares his teeth in a chilling smile. He holds Alice’s hand in both of his, caressing the top of her fingers. “Don’t touch her!”

“I’m afraid Isaac has to keep touching Ms. Chen in order for this particular mesmer to continue.” Davis walks back to his chair and settles in his desk. “Which it will until we come to an understanding.”

“If you don’t let her go—” I choke out. “I swear to God, I will tear you apart!”

“Such fire.” Davis smirks. “Let’s see if we can put it out. Isaac?”

Isaac moves in front of Alice as if wrapping her in a hug and slides his hands up to her cheeks, holding her head still until their eyes meet. A slow, sickly shimmer of silver-gray mage flame circles her from the neck up. A second later, Alice blinks rapidly.

“Bree?” she whispers. Her eyes focus on me. “What happened to your dress? Why are you tied to a chair? What’s going on?”

“Alice! Alice, listen to me. I’m going to get you out of here!” Isaac shifts his fingers, and she goes under again, slouching slightly against the Merlin’s chest.

“What are you doing to her?” I demand, looking back and forth between Isaac and Davis.

Davis nods to the other man, and he brings Alice up again, like a puppet being tugged awake by its strings.

This time her eyes take a while to find me, and even then, they don’t focus. I don’t think she can see me at all. I call her name again, but she frowns, disoriented. “Matty? I know you don’t have a dress for the gala thing this weekend. We should go shopping after class…”

She’d said this exact sentence to me two days ago at breakfast.… Cold horror bleeds through me when I realize what Isaac is doing.

He’s erasing her memories.

“Stop!” I strain against the ropes, tears burning my eyes. “Stop it, please!”

Isaac grins and clasps his hand tighter against her skull.

“You’ve been weird all week.”

“Stop it!”

“If it feels like it’s just the two of you, then it’s a date, no matter who else is around.”

That was two weeks ago. On the phone the day after Nick kissed me in front of the Lodge.

Isaac had just erased two entire weeks from her mind. Everything she’d learned in her classes, every idea she’d generated, every memory of laughter, of joy. Every conversation with her parents or brother. Everything we’d said to each other. Gone.

And he could do more. I know he could. He could take her from me right before my eyes, just like Nick’s mother had been taken from him.

That’s what this is. A show of power. A reminder that no matter how much I know, I don’t know enough to survive in this world. That I’m not worthy.

“Please,” I whimper, the tears running in hot streaks down my face. “Please, stop. Stop it.”

Davis signals Isaac to stop, and Alice and I both sag. He taps his fingers on his desk lightly and lets out a tired sigh. “Normally we’d simply mesmer any inconvenient Onceborns, but since you’ve proven a bit stubborn in that regard, I sent Isaac to collect Ms. Chen for some persuasion. You’ll have to forgive the dramatics. Merlins are quite showy beings, aren’t they?”

“What do you want?” I whisper, because that’s all I need to know.

Davis smiles as if I’d finally asked the right question. “You’ll leave Carolina and the program. Tell the dean you were ill-equipped to keep up with the rigor. A poor fit. I’m sure that won’t be hard for the administrators to believe, coming from you.”

My fingers curl into fists.

“You won’t speak to Nicholas or any of the other chapter members ever again. You’ll apply to another college when the time comes, out of state preferably, and forget you ever found the Legendborn world.”

I glance back up at Alice, who is swaying, eyes fully closed now. Only Isaac’s arms on her shoulder seem to keep her upright. Davis follows my gaze toward Alice.

“And if I don’t?”

“You’re a clever girl, so I’m sure you already know the answer.” He sits back in his chair and drums his fingers on the desk. I’m boring him. Even as he tortures my best friend, and through her, me. “But I suppose it’s best to make things clear. If you don’t comply, Isaac will take you to one of our institutions where his colleagues, the other Masters, will enjoy themselves finding out exactly why your brain won’t accept their illusions—whether it’s in your skull or out. And while you cannot be mesmered, please understand that we will happily find and manage other loved ones in your life who can. Like Ms. Chen here.”

I see my dad sitting in the vinyl chair at the hospital, putting on a brave face while his world crumbled. I hear his voice, warm and laughing in my ear. The texts I’ve never responded to. How he tried to help me even when I didn’t want to hear it.

Lord Davis leans forward and pins me with a pleased smile. “Now tell me, Ms. Matthews. Do you consent to this offer?”

All the frustration, all the fight, leaves my body.

“I do.”