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I CAN SEE why Nick assumed the man standing in front of me is my father. We have similar features—the same dimples, if not the same smile, the same mouth and nose.

The flood of emotions that rushes into me when I meet my father’s gaze makes me burst into tears on the porch—near-violent, shoulder-wracking sobs that probably startle everyone with their abrupt appearance. Then, I feel warm arms around me, smell a comforting, sharp cologne, and I’m being guided back into Hazel’s house and onto her couch.

I don’t know how long I sob against my father’s chest.

I come back to the room slowly, to his arms rocking me, the sound of his low hum against my ear, and little rhythmic squeezes of my shoulder that remind me that I am loved.

In the end, it’s the smell of hot breakfast that brings me fully back to myself. Griddle cakes, hot syrup, homemade biscuits and gravy fill my nose. The sounds of clinking silverware and low voices reach me from Hazel’s screened-in porch. I peek through teary eyes to see that a folding picnic table has been set up outside and that my friends are gathered together to eat, leaving me and my father inside to our reunion.

I sniff—and cringe at the wet sound. My father hands me a tissue before I can ask for one. “Thanks,” I mutter.

“I’ve been helping you wipe your nose for seventeen years,” his low voice mumbles, amused and warm. “Don’t expect that’ll stop anytime soon, even if you don’t remember who I am.”

I push up to sitting, and he loosens his arms around me. “I know who you are,” I protest, even as I take in his features. His bushy brows and thinning hair. His athletic shirt and tracksuit pants. His single, thin golden chain necklace peeking out from his collar and the old leather watch he wears on his left wrist.

My father smiles. “Natasia filled me in on what’s been going on.” He raises a hand to show off the gold ring around his right ring finger. “And your mom told me the rest.”

My jaw drops. “Mom… how?”

He tugs at my wrist. “Same way she told you, I gather.”

I remember. The bracelet. Her voice. Her message to me right when I was filled with despair and too many unanswered questions. I shake my head. “How is she helping us even now?”

He smiles softly. “She’s eternal like that, kiddo. And”—he shrugs—“she was always ten steps ahead. Prepared for any scenario.” He looks outside. “Natasia told me what things have probably been like for you since you inherited your mom’s… abilities. I understand why your mom didn’t tell us what might happen if there was a chance it might not happen at all. Neither one of us would have been better prepared with all that knowledge in our heads, knowing that she might die early and leave you to face this world on your own.”

“I’m not…,” He tilts his chin as if challenging the lie before I state it. “I’m not always alone,” I say quietly.

“But a lot of the time, it feels like you are,” he murmurs, “doesn’t it?”

I sniff again, and he hands me the whole box this time. “Yeah.”

He regards me for a moment. “We’re with you. You’re never truly alone.”

“But I miss her. I don’t want to lose anyone else, but I think… loving folks hurts too.”

“I know.” He sits back against the couch, and together, we watch my friends as they pass another plate down the table. “Loving other people and losing them hurts. And loving them when they’re gone? Opens up the wound again. Now, I’m no expert, but I think the only way to live with grief is to seek its antidote. For me, that’s learning how to live my life without your mom in it and figuring out how to be your dad without her beside me, while remembering how she made me feel about myself. If I don’t do that, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget how to love other people altogether, not because I can’t , but because I won’t remember how . Loving folks is a practice, baby.”

I sit with that for a moment. If I restore my soul, it won’t just be the people that come back, but the everyday practice of being with those people too. The relationships.

I look at him with a frown. “Are you always like this?”

He grins, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ve been known to say a thing or two, yeah.”

I shake my head. “I can’t wait to remember everything else you’ve said, then. That was like rocket fuel.”

He chuckles, his laugh loud and warm. “Natasia told me what she and your mom got up to back in the day. She told me the stuff you’ve already had to face down at Carolina. You’re Bree Matthews, baby. You can do anything.”

When we step outside, there are two seats waiting for us. My father urges me to the seat next to Natasia Kane while he sits closer to the head of the table with Lu and Hazel. He seems to sense my eagerness to speak with her, now that my head has cleared.

Hazel cooked for an army. Everyone’s plate is full, and there’s still more food waiting in colorful serving dishes and chafing dishes above warming candles. As I move around the table, Lark gives me an update. “Valec’s out casting new wards. Crown is secured. We should be safe here for the day, if you’re comfortable staying.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “I want us to have time to eat. Fuel up for what’s next.”

When I sit in the open chair beside Natasia Kane, she offers me a warm smile. Nick and Lark cast expectant gazes between us that don’t go unnoticed. But Nick’s eyes are curious and concerned, and Lark’s are just… concerned.

“He’s a Kingsmage,” Natasia says quietly to me. “Or was trained to be. If he didn’t keep an eye on you, he wouldn’t be worth the title.”

I study her features up close as she studies mine. Black hair like a raven, golden eyes, a strong jaw. She knew my mother, knew her power. I wish I could ask her more questions. Every question. But for now, there is only one. “Where is Sel?”

The table quiets.

Natasia doesn’t seem surprised by my question. “I don’t know.”

Nick and I make eye contact. If the taut expression on his face is any indication, he has already asked the same question of Natasia—and received the same inadequate answer.

“But Erebus took him to you,” I insist.

That surprises her. “How do you know that?”

“Because I told him to.”

Natasia blinks. “What?”

William and Lark exchange glances, this information new to them as well.

“ You told him to?” she asks.

“Why don’t you know where he is?” Nick presses. “Why are you hesitant to say more?”

Her hands flatten on the tablecloth. She draws a slow breath. “Because you are his friends, but you aren’t cambions. You aren’t Merlins. You can’t understand—”

“I’m a Merlin,” Lark interrupts. “And I do understand. He escaped, didn’t he?”

Natasia stiffens, locking eyes with him. “Demonia is not what you’ve been taught—”

“Is Sel the reason you’re injured?” Nick asks. “Why do you have those bruises?”

To my surprise, Natasia and my father share a look across the table. Some understanding passes between them. “You lost him?” I ask.

“For now,” she admits. “I tried to help him, but my methods didn’t work. I don’t know why. They’re all experimental as it is, but his emotional state is so different than mine was. His anger is—” She looks up at me, at the concern on my face for her son. “I used the ring Faye had me mesmer to bring Edwin’s memory back so he could understand the risks, and I brought him here, to the home of the Grand Dame, to keep him out of harm’s way. I had no idea I’d find you here too, Bree.”

“Why would my father be in harm’s way?”

“It’s just a precaution,” she says hurriedly. “I don’t truly think Selwyn would harm Edwin. Nor does he wish to harm you, not directly. It’s just…” Natasia’s brows draw tight. “Demonia makes us hungry. Selwyn wants your power, in particular.”

“Why’s that?” Valec’s voice is tight as a wire. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Exactly?”

Heat floods my face. Natasia frowns. “I was told he consumed it at some point.”

“Devouring Bree’s root when he saved her from Arthur’s dreamscape is what tipped him over,” Lark explains. “Although Kane was already succumbing. Well on his way to his descent. If he’s anything like other demons—”

“It’s not a descent,” Natasia interjects. “And he isn’t like any other demon.”

Lark raises a brow. “If he’s tasted Bree’s root, then he won’t stop until he finds her.”

“Not only that, but if he’s consumed her power, he’ll be more attuned to her root signature than he would be otherwise.” Valec curses low, eyes flashing. “Kane’s on the hunt right now, I expect. Tracking Bree down by her magic from miles away.”

“Yes, but she’s safe here,” Natasia insists. “Selwyn can’t find her in this house.”

The table goes still. William speaks first. “Why not?”

“Because,” Natasia says with a relieved smile, “Selwyn doesn’t know Bree’s been to Hazel’s house before. He won’t even know to look in this region, much less the state of Georgia.”

William’s fork clangs onto his plate. Mariah drops her head into her hands with a groan. And Lucille stands, tossing her napkin on the table with a low curse. “We got a problem, then.”

“What’s the problem?” Natasia asks. “Why’s everyone upset?”

“Selwyn definitely knows Bree’s been to this house,” Lucille says sharply, “because they were both here together not five months ago!”

Natasia’s on her feet in a blur. “I thought…” She looks down at me. “I didn’t realize. Bree, I’m so sorry. I thought it was just the once, with your mother—”

“My mother brought me here?” I exclaim.

“Yes, she—” Natasia makes eye contact with Hazel, whose own face is stricken with some new understanding. Natasia’s head whips back to mine. “That’s not urgent. What’s urgent is that Sel could be on his way—at any moment.”

“Would he come straight here?” Nick asks, coming around to stand by Natasia. “He was with Bree a lot of places—”

“Like my bar!” Valec adds. “I swear, if he destroys the Lounge—”

“He scented Bree on my clothes from Daeza’s, but that wasn’t her root. Not a strong enough trail to follow. He’d start where he last saw her use magic.” Natasia runs her hand through her hair. “Retrace his steps. Where were they last together?”

“The Keep,” I say, heart thrumming in my chest.

“Where would he go after that?” Nick asks.

Natasia steps in front of me. “Where did you go after the Keep? The next place you used your magic?”

“The house in Asheville,” I say, eyeing Zoe.

“That’s good,” Natasia says, nodding. “Asheville’s a long way from the Keep. Even with an aether sense primed to detect Bree, distance will slow him down—”

“That’s not good,” Zoe corrects. “My brother is there! And he hasn’t been answering his phone!”

“Bree was just at Penumbra,” Lark points out. “Any trail she left behind at that other house is days old. Kane’s aether sense is sharp but not that sharp.”

“You’ll be dismayed to hear that it’s gotten better,” Natasia says wryly. She turns to me. “How much aether—er, root—did you use at the Asheville location?”

My eyes widen. The barn, the house, the backyard—the ward around the barn. “A lot.”

She raises a brow. “How much? How often?”

“A lot ,” I repeat. “And daily. For months.”

“She’s all over that house,” Zoe says, voice strained as she walks away with her arms crossed over her head. “Elijah’s a good fighter, but…”

“I don’t feel murderous intent through the bond, and Sel won’t hurt someone who doesn’t threaten him,” Nick says, then pales as he registers that he doesn’t know what Sel would do right now. That none of us does. “Right?”

Natasia seesaws her head back and forth. “He’s not his most human self right now. He is instincts, precision, and hunger. He hasn’t fed for months, that I know of. He escaped several times when we were together, attacked… some people. Merlins and demons… I think.”

“How do you know he won’t attack humans?” my dad asks from his spot at my shoulder. “No offense, but he kicked your ass, and you’re his own mother!”

“I was trying to keep him from what he really wanted. What he’s craving. Sel doesn’t want anyone else’s power or emotions.” She looks at me. “He wants Bree.”