I clear my throat to get their attention.

Aldrich waves me forward. “Good afternoon, Briana.”

Words echo in my ears. Good afternoon, Briana. Good evening, Briana. Good morning. Memories of the other days, slipping back in place in dribs and drabs. The mesmers, breaking down. I give silent thanks to William.

Aldrich gestures to the single empty seat on the side of the table closest to the door. “Will you sit?”

I sit—and immediately feel déjà vu. We’ve done this dance before. They want her alert today, Max had said. Alert for what?

Aldrich smiles. “Briana, how are you feeling?”

I try to think past the sound of Cestra drumming her fingers on the table. Tadum-tadum-tadum, like a clock ticking down as they wait for my response. They still think I’m mesmered. That I don’t know that they’ve had me imprisoned, drugged, and interrogated. I know exactly what to say. “Where am I?”

“Ugh,” Cestra groans.

“Regent Cestra.” Aldrich’s lips press into a thin line until Cestra stops tapping. “Are we wasting your time?”

Cestra sighs heavily. “I simply tire of the ceremony, the repetition. Why support the ruse at this point? She’s just going to be mesmered again.”

The repetition.

The Regents wanted to reset me between interrogations, William said. They pretended that each meeting was the day after the Rite to keep me disoriented, unable to plan.

Tacitus rolls his eyes. “I know you enjoy making my job more difficult, Regent Cestra, but perhaps not today?”

“What are we if not the challenges we overcome?” Cestra purrs as she leans across the table. “And I thought you were the Master of Mesmer, Tacitus. You of all people can erase what’s necessary without breaking her entirely.”

Tacitus growls. “With respect, Regent, you have no idea how delicate mesmerwork can be. The more memories she accumulates, the more I will need to remove,” Tacitus intones. “A quick discussion would be preferred.”

Aldrich nods. “As you wish.”

He clicks a button on a remote and a screen drops from the ceiling behind him. On it is a collection of images. My school ID from my first day at Early College. A blurry security camera shot of me walking through Polk Place with Greer—I squint—maybe a week or two ago. Me and Alice on the quad. Me and Selwyn pausing to talk outside the Comm Studies building. A zoomed-in shot of me, bent over a book in the undergrad library, a look of concentration on my face.

“This whole time…” My eyes sting, grow hot with humiliation.

“We’ve been watching you, yes,” Aldrich says. “Since the moment Victoria Morgan informed our emissary that you pulled Excalibur from its stone.”

I knew Tor called the Regents on her own, without alerting anyone in advance. Tor never kneeled to me. Tor never thought I should be here, sword or not. I don’t even know if betrayal is what I feel.