Samira’s face breaks open in a grin. “But you pulled the blade when you did and how you did because you put yourself in the right place to do so. Not your mother, not your grandmother, but you. You brought honor to your Line, and I don’t mean Arthur’s. You don’t need the sword, Bree. You are the sword. Their sword. Our sword.”

My vision blurs. I wasn’t expecting to hear all of this from Samira. It’s a reminder that the only way to honor my Line, my people, and my mother is to face my fights head-on. I am the sword. I sniff a little, clear my throat. “Thanks, Samira. I think… I think I needed that.”

“No problem, boss,” she says with a wink. She holds up a finger. “One more thing. You need to know that the Liege networks are a bit more… worldly than the Regents realize. Always have been, with the work we do. We have our own contacts that are off the Regents’ and Seneschals’ radar.”

I blink. “I thought everyone and everything were on their radar.”

“That used to be true when the world was different. Now they just want it to be true,” she says, an amused smile playing at her mouth. “Wanting something fiction to be fact and having the power to convince other folks of the same… that’s how power stays put. The Order’s surface networks tend to run down certain avenues, but Lieges? We deal with the world as is, so some of our channels are a little more underground than others.” She pulls a pen and slip of paper from her vest pocket, and scribbles something down. “Based on what I’ve heard about your other abilities, I think you’ll know what I mean when I say that in this part of the country, roots run deep.”

I startle, searching her gaze. She winks. “Are you—”

Her brown eyes twinkle as she passes me the folded note. “Not me, but a couple aunts, some cousins. I’m sure you understand why I don’t share that with anyone in the Order. Not even Gill.”

“Yes, of course.” I pull at the edge of the paper to open it, but she makes a negative sound and closes my hand around the paper until it’s hidden in my fist.

“Wherever you go, things are gonna be dangerous. If you need resources or help outside of the Lines, I want you to use this info. Just be careful who you share it with, understand?”

I nod. “Completely.” I clutch the paper. “Thank you.”

Samira pulls me into a hug. “Black folks don’t need Oaths to take care of each other. We never did.”

Samira helps me down the ramp. Gillian watches us descend. The way her eyes roam over my careful movements is not unlike how she oversaw the training of Pages for the combat trial.