“Security forces that include the Kingsmage.” Sel’s voice has gone curt. His earlier arrogance has been wiped from his features. “Except that my Oath supersedes any order you or Regent Cestra might give.”

“It did…,” Erebus replies slowly, “before your Oath was proven to be misplaced.”

A muscle in Sel’s jaw tightens. Abruptly, he steps closer and, to my utter shock, touches me for the first time in weeks. His long fingers wrap around my wrist—but his grip is not gentle, and his palm is sweaty. “If that medieval politics lesson is over, then I think the Crown Scion is due for rest—”

“Selwyn, I think you realize that I did not introduce Larkin here without purpose….” Erebus’s voice is not unkind, but it is firm. “Your services this past month have been appreciated, but—”

“Just say it,” Sel grits out.

“Guard Douglas will protect the Crown Scion now, and he will remain her escort until they are bound together by the Kingsmage Oath.”

4

EREBUS’S WORDS FALL like a lead blanket around us. My stomach plummets while Sel becomes perfectly, eerily, dangerously still.

Erebus looks puzzled. “Will this be a problem?”

“I don’t… I don’t need a—a Kingsmage,” I stammer. “We need to find Scion Davis and bring him home safe.”

Erebus ignores my protest about a Kingsmage entirely. “I have heard that you and Scion Davis are quite close? Is this true?” His eyes are curious, mouth lifted in a pleasant curl, but this question is not innocent.

The Regents do not permit Scions to be romantically involved if there is any chance a child could be produced from their union. Children who possess multiple bloodlines could challenge—or even break—the Order’s ability to track and predict which descendant will become a Scion and which ancestral knight will Call them. Tracking the bloodlines with precision is the only way that the Table has remained organized this long. Of course, Nick and I are both living proof that there are gaps in the Order’s oversight. No one in the Order knew our true lineages before Lancelot Called him and Arthur Called me.

So much for the superiority of their good intentions.

“We are close,” I reply, voice neutral.

Sel drops my wrist and looks away. Clears his throat. “Prior to the revelations about their respective bloodlines, Scion Davis had named Crown Scion Matthews his Page and chosen her as Squire at the selection gala. These intentions were publicly made.”