“I don’t know,” I answer quietly, adrenaline still rushing through me, making my breath come in shaky gasps. “I don’t know.”

The curtain beside us yanks back—to reveal another familiar face.

“William,” I breathe. He surges forward into my arms.

“Bree,” he murmurs, his face tucked into my neck. “They took you away and you didn’t come back. They kept me in a room on the residence side for days. Stopped drugging me but told me they’d hurt you if I fought back. Then… the wards dropped. Max went speeding off. Here.” He draws back, reaching into his pocket. “These are yours.” Jewelry spills into my palm. My heart stutters.

My mother’s golden charm bracelet and the Pendragon necklace.

The coin is still smudged with dried, rust-colored blood. Mine, from the night of the Rite of Kings. I trace the thin, healed scar Excalibur left on my palm. My mother’s bracelet is a little gnarled and smudged, but otherwise okay.

“Max leaving was our opening to grab Will.” Gill reappears and leans a hand against the bulkhead. “We’ve got one more car coming.”

“There they are!” Ophelia shouts from the cockpit. A squeal in the distance as a red sports car speeds into the lot. “Last one, let’s go.”

Gill pushes past us and jogs down the stairs. The rest of us exchange worried looks. I gnaw on my lip, hoping against hope. “Is it—?”

The sports car screeches to a stop near the stairs. The driver door opens, and a blurred figure speeds to the back—too fast to be human.

“Mageguard,” I gasp.

“Oh God.” Alice backs into the cockpit, eyes wide. “They found us.”

20

“STAND DOWN.” SAMIRA appears in the doorway, hand held out. “This is one of ours.”

We turn back to the windows as the Merlin emerges from the back of the car, hoisting a still form over his shoulder.

I squint, but they’re too fast to follow. Abruptly, the Merlin whooshes up the stairs to deposit—

“Sel!” William pushes past me.

“Man, that is one stubborn kid.” Lark stands after dropping Sel’s slumped figure into one of the bench seats along the back wall of the cabin. There’s an angry, purpling bruise on the Kingsmage’s left cheekbone. “Had to knock him out cold just to get him in the car. He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.” Lark turns to the cabin, a wry smile on his face. Finds me, winks. “Hey, not-princess-not-king. Sorry to report they tossed your gauntlets. I’ll get you new ones.”

I blink. “But you’re—”

“The Mageguard were originally created to serve the king,” he says, running a hand through his windblown hair. “Some of us still hold to that.” He looks down at Sel, whose vitals are being checked by William. “Plus, I owe Kane for the other night.”