I aim for the barrier and one of the Mageguard casters I recognize. One of the new arrivals from last night. Zhao, I think? His lips move quietly, murmuring the chant that helps join his aether barrier to the others’.

“Let me through,” I demand.

The Merlin’s amber gaze drops to mine as his brow lifts. “I don’t take orders from a Page.”

I inhale sharply. He knows I’m not a Page. Everything that just happened, and he expects me to play along with… today’s publicity stunt?

“Let us through, Max.” Lark is at my side before I finish, his injured hand tucked behind his back. “Matthews here needs to get back up to the compound and her room.”

Max sizes Lark up and sniffs. “I don’t take orders from you either, Douglas.” Max shakes his head. “You think you outrank us just because you’re Erebus’s special pet?”

“How about taking an order from me?” William has found us, with iron in his voice and heat in his eyes.

“Scion Sitterson.” Max dips his head and twists his wrist at once, pulling the shield open like a curtain. “My apologies.”

William steps closer to the guard, eyes narrowing dangerously. “While you are in the territory of the Southern Chapter, you will never stop someone from seeking their own refuge, do you understand me?”

Zhao sputters. “But the safety—”

“Does Page Matthews appear to be in immediate danger to you?” William presses.

“No.” Max shakes his head. “Apologies, Scion.”

I push through without a second look and march up the hill away from the dispersing crowd. Max goes back to casting the barrier and Lark jogs behind me, matching my stride easily until we are shoulder to shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Lark,” I huff.

“I realize that.” Lark’s voice is sullen.

William catches up to us both, all long legs and black suit and emerald sash and two very furrowed brows. “I don’t think we formally met last night, Guard…?”

“Douglas,” Lark replies, eyes widening. “Larkin Douglas.”

William smiles. “Nice to meet you, Larkin.”

“Likewise, Scion Sitterson.” If I weren’t so damn irritated, I might find the pink flush on Lark’s cheeks curious and sort of precious. As it is, I groan and roll my eyes because Lark is a member of the group of Merlins that is hunting Sel down as we speak and he’s a goddamn liar, so who cares if he thinks William’s cute?

William is either oblivious to Lark’s response to him, or he’s ignoring it like I am. “Bree, I know you’re upset. We all are.”

“This is ridiculous!” I spit, and keep marching.

“I know—”

“Stripped of his title?”

“I know—”