“Hey, Matthews!” An angry voice reaches us, and my shoulders tense. Tor. She leads the group of Legendborn up the hill behind her: Sarah, close on her heels in matching Tristan blue; Greer and Pete in Owain soft yellow cloaks; and Felicity in deep Lamorak red trailing behind.

William glances at Lark, voice mild. “How about you go get that hand looked at, Douglas?”

Lark blinks in surprise. “How did you—”

William smiles. “Trade secret.” He jerks his chin over his shoulder. “I apologize for the dismissal, but if you don’t mind…”

Lark sees Tor approaching and takes the hint, hanging back. “Sure thing. I’ll be around when it’s time to leave, Crown Scion.”

I grumble something unintelligible to all of humankind. William sighs as the group reaches us.

“What the hell, Matthews?”

I absolutely notice that Tor doesn’t use any title at all with my name, and I pivot on a heel to return the favor. “Not now, Morgan.”

Tor takes a beat to glance around her for listening ears before she continues. “Thanks for almost blowing your own cover,” she says between clenched teeth.

“I wasn’t going to blow my cover,” I grit out. Even though I really almost did.

Tor crosses her arms. “You do realize that exposing yourself puts more than just you at risk, don’t you?” She waves a hand at our fellow Legendborn beside her. “Shadowborn are still out there. Some of us would like to keep our abilities so we can actually do our job, thanks. Not sit in our room and pout.”

“If I could be out there fighting with you, I would!” I hiss.

“Yes, but you can’t, can you?” Tor says. She steps closer, voice low and sharp as a dagger. “Because you can’t even call on Arthur’s aether armor or forge your own weapon. Not without burning yourself to a pathetic crisp.”

“Victoria…,” William warns.

Embarrassment floods my face in a hot wave. I hate that Tor knows what I can’t do, has seen me fail. “And what about you, Tor? Were you just going to stand there while the Regents spread lies about Sel?”

“What lie did they tell?” Tor spreads her hands wide. “Sel’s job was to keep us safe. And apparently he’s run off somewhere. He needs to show his face if he wants to defend his actions.”

“Defend his actions?” I move toward Tor, and she takes a step back, eyeing the clenched fist at my side.

Greer moves into Tor’s space, where they tower over her by at least a few inches. “Take a walk, Tor. You’re causing a scene at a funeral.” They shoot me an apologetic grimace. “Well… a second scene.”