“We have the evidence needed to convict in recorded statements. Only a Merlin on the path of succumbing to his blood would behave as Selwyn has. It is safest to keep him in the hold.”

I scoff, and he looks at me sharply. “Selwyn isn’t succumbing to his blood, or even on the path to it. He was clearheaded enough—and good enough—to rescue me tonight before the Mageguard even arrived. Someone more demon than human wouldn’t help me; he’d enjoy watching my pain. This is about something else. A scapegoat, like he said.”

“With respect, Crown Scion.” Erebus’s brow furrows. “What would you know about what it means for a Merlin to succumb to his blood when you were raised as an Unanedig? Whatever the erstwhile Kingsmage has told you has barely scratched the surface of our kind, our abilities, and our role in the Order.”

“I know it means his demon blood could change him.” I raise my chin. “He says he could go feral. Turn… evil.”

“A simpler, less comprehensive explanation couldn’t be expressed.” Erebus laughs softly. “You think in terms of ‘good’ or ‘evil,’ but Merlin envisioned that his descendants could be both, with the Oaths as safeguards. Demons are selfish, solitary creatures. If our latent demonic natures overcome us, we lose empathy, sympathy, kindness. Humanity. Eventually, all that remains are the core hungers of demonia: the inescapable desires to create and consume human misery. Pain, chaos, anguish. Demons have no choice but to be drawn to these things, and that is why we are haunted by the prospect of such a descent. And why we must contain Selwyn for his own good.” A pause. “It is what his mother would want.”

I suck in a breath. “You knew Sel’s mother?”

Erebus turns to the window and the passing darkness. “Natasia and I trained together before she was sent to live with the young Martin Davis. Like Selwyn, she was a prodigy. A wonder of a warrior.”

I can’t help my curiosity at the sound in his voice. The trace of pain beneath his stern brows. “You knew each other as children?” He dips his head and I make a guess. “You were close.”

His eyes flick to mine, assessing before speaking further. Finally, he nods. “Natasia was my counterpart at the academy. She was on the path to become Kingsmage, and I was destined to become Seneschal of the Mageguard.” His mouth twitches, the barest hint of affection. “It was Natasia who gave me the moniker ‘Erebus,’ from the Greek myths, as I would eventually command the Merlins who fight creatures from the darkest shadows. In turn I called her ‘Nyx,’ Greek goddess of the night. She moved like shadows fall, silent and swift. When she…” He trails off, losing the words to memory, or withdrawing from giving away too much.