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NO. NO. A howling scream builds in my throat, a choked gasp leaves Nick’s—and Sel’s body begins to fall. His head lolls back on his shoulders, lifeless.…

“No!” My voice, Nick’s, I can’t tell—

Before either of us can scream again, a thick gurgling sound emerges from Sel’s chest.

The deep sound rises, expands, then pours from him in sharp, crackling waves. Greedy gasps, inhuman.

Then… his spine straightens, his head snaps forward—

And his eyes open—bright, boiling red chasing away the whites. His black-tipped fangs grow longer, gleaming in the moonlight, until his mouth is a hungry, vicious shape. The gasping breaths stop, become a low chuckle, become sinister in the night.

The weapon forged by death incarnate did not deliver death as promised. The King’s living crown may destroy all false bearers, but it did not destroy Selwyn Kane… it transformed him.

Only then does the truth rise in full between us, like an unknown, unknowable silent secret now spoken aloud: like Excalibur, the crown recognizes its rightful heir… and Selwyn Kane is the Shadow King’s son.

A hoarse, dazed laugh breaks past Sel’s lips when he surveys the darkly pulsing metal in his hand. As if compelled, he raises the crown up… and places it atop his head.

“Looks like my father dropped this.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe.

“How, Sel?” Nick whispers. “How is this possible?”

“I have no idea.” Sel’s crimson gaze drags leisurely between us, both satisfied and ravenous. “But here we stand and here we are. A king, a knight… and a prince.” Sel’s smile spreads slow across his face, like thick blood flowing from a wound. “What… shall… we… do?”