Nick points back toward the dining hall. “This is the beginning of the Order. You do realize that, right? At first it was the one hundred and fifty knights, then it was the thirteen—enhanced by Merlin and binding power to their bloodlines—but that down there? That’s the beginning of the society. The public praise. The bragging. The display of power, crown of our enemy. Hubris, organized.”

Sel crosses his arms. “Your point?”

“This is the beginning of centuries of taking things from children and their families.” Fury twists Nick’s face, pulls his lips back. “The Order took all three of our mothers, in one way or another. My father did the deeds, he was its loyal foot soldier, but even he saw that there was corruption. Political games. Even a petty, evil broken clock is right twice a day.”

“And yet you killed for him,” Sel muses.

“I didn’t kill Zhao for my father.” Nick’s eyes burn. “I killed him for me.”

Sel’s eyes widen incrementally. “We should… come back to that.”

Nick rakes a hand through his hair. “The Order took our childhoods from us, Sel.” He looks at me. “If I go back, the Regents will never let us be together, B, if they let me live at all.”

Sel rolls his eyes. “They will never let you and Bree sleep together, you mean.”

My jaw drops. I resist the urge to slap his arm.

Nick glares at him. “Don’t be crass. It’s more than that, and you know it. Even if we find our way back to each other, safe and whole, and even if the Regents are disposed of, the Order’s logic will still stand. As long as the cycle continues, no one will ever risk the intertwining of the Line of Lancelot and the Line of Arthur.”

“My question remains. How do you think you can stop the cycle without harming Bree?”

“I… I don’t know.” He turns away, leaning over the balcony again. “But I believe there is a way.”

“You believe? You do realize you sound like that… that cartoon bug thing, don’t you? Wishing on a star for your dreams to come true?” Sel mocks.

“I think there could be another way, too,” I mutter. “And it was Jiminy Cricket.”

Sel scowls. “Excuse me?”

Nick snorts into his palm. “From Pinocchio.”

Sel looks between us both. “I cannot believe I am stuck with you two.”

The tension lifts, and I smile. “You are, you know. Stuck with us.”

Nick makes a sound of disagreement. “Nah. I think you’re stuck with us, Bree.”

“Agree to disagree.” I drift to the edge of the balcony, eyes overhead. Looking for a star, maybe. Glad that we are together in this pocket of time that isn’t time, in a place that was real and a space that is not.