I swallow hard and lift my chin. “You want me to give up on him—”

His lips curl back in a snarl.

I face his wrath with my own. “I could save him. And you’re telling me not to even try.”

Displeasure twists at his mouth. “If you think that’s what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it, if you think this is easy… then…”

“Then what?” I challenge.

He backs away, shaking his head. “Then you truly aren’t ready to wear the crown.”

“Selwyn!” William yells.

Sel rushes out so quickly, his coat snaps in the air behind him.

Hot tears streak down my cheeks; my chest heaves. This is all wrong. This isn’t how it was supposed to go… this isn’t what I decided.

William steps closer, rubbing my back in a circle. After a moment, he sighs. “I’ll get some breakfast going, then go after him.”

“Thanks, Will,” Alice says. He nods and steps away, but as soon as his warmth leaves, Alice’s arms wrap around me from the side. “I’m sorry….”

My voice cracks when I speak. “I can’t run away.”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t, Alice….”

She tucks her head into my shoulder. “I know. But you can’t do anything at all if you’re dead. And you can’t die, Matty….”

I inhale sharply. Doubt slips in around my hard edges, even though I want to push it away. “I didn’t—”

“You almost did, okay?” she whispers. “You almost did.” I can’t argue with her there, even though I want to. Not when I can feel her tears wetting the fabric on my shoulder.

“I’m not okay with this,” I mutter.

“I’ll be with you. We’ll find another way for you to fight.”

The mirror is still cracked, but Alice is here, trying to patch us back together. I whisper, “You promise?”

She nods. “Promise.”

After lunch, Sel calls Gill. Once she hears our plan to go into hiding, she tells Sel to take us down to the basement before we leave. We didn’t even know there was a basement.

Sel follows her instructions to kneel on the hardwood floor in the hallway, feeling along the baseboard for a hidden latch. Sure enough, once he pulls it, a four-by-three section of the floor raises an inch. Just far enough for Sel to lift it up and over, dropping it back onto itself and revealing a flight of wooden stairs leading down a stone-walled staircase.

“Holy moly,” Alice whispers. “This is James Bond–levels of cool.”

Already at the bottom of the stairs, Sel flips a switch and a row of overhead bulbs illuminates a concrete-floored room. We follow him down into a space the size of the house footprint.