“What have you done, boy? That blade was forged by Merlin himself.” My blood runs cold, tendrils of panic seeping through my veins in drips. “It cannot be forged again by anyone else.”

Aldrich barks a laugh. “Boy?” He shakes his head. “Truly you are Arthur before me. As for Excalibur? I had my Seneschal break it for safekeeping after Briana failed to return it to its resting place in the stone.”

“Safekeeping?” I roar. I extend my hand for the pieces. “Give it to me! It is mine by birthright!”

Aldrich eyes me, then turns to the crowd of Legendborn. “If you are the true king, I think you should fight for your broken sword before your Table. Three Seneschals should suffice, don’t you think?”

The tension thickens the air around us, but sets my blood singing.

“I am prepared to do what it takes,” I murmur and extend a palm to cast a shield and blade from aether—only to remember the cyffion circling my arms.

Aldrich turns toward the listening Legendborn. “Will you be ruled by a king who allows herself to be manacled like the rogue magic user she is? If we take those off, will she show us Briana’s unnatural root? Or her inability to control even the most basic of Legendborn powers?”

This is the Regents’ goal, is it? Force the Table to witness their king out of control, possessed by a spirit, and weak in battle? Discredit Briana before she has even begun? The Legendborn look between me and the Regents, to the three Seneschals, and back to me again. Uncertainty ripples among those who don’t know Briana, and confusion spreads on the faces of those that do.

But it is the gleeful look on Victoria’s face that makes “discredit” seem the lesser evil. “She doesn’t belong here,” Victoria says. “She never did. And now she is compromised. Just like she wishes to compromise us, can’t you all see?”

Victoria is not a born leader, but she knows how to command a crowd. At her words, confusion turns to suspicion for some, then fear.

I sneer at them all. “Why don’t you have Erebus remove these cuffs, Aldrich, and we will see who triumphs.”

“Enough!”

With a loud crack, aether descends around the six members of the Council, encasing them in a near-translucent, blue crosshatch-patterned prison.

The Council members shout in protest, but the Legendborn barely react. Instead of responding with alarm, the gathered Scions and Squires part, allowing four of the Squires unfamiliar to Briana to stride through the opening. While the Seneschals within the constructed prison do everything in their power to break it, the four unknown Squires surround them with arms outstretched and teeth gritted with effort, reinforcing the structure with whispered spellwork and words that sound foreign to Briana’s ears.