“And last night changed the deal. If Camlann is truly near, then becoming a Squire—mine, William’s, Pete’s—is too risky. You won’t be able to just bounce afterward because we’ll be at war.” He grabs me by the arms, inclining his head to meet my eyes. “People die during Camlann, Bree.”

Panic flutters in my chest like a caged bird. “No, this is the only way. This year. Right now.”

“I never should have agreed to this, but I wanted to help you. I—” His fingers tighten where they hold me. “Becoming a Squire during peacetime is one thing. Once I reclaimed my title, I’d planned to step in, get you out before you’re expected to take the Warrior’s Oath. But now? The Order is on alert, and I know Sel. He could be ordered to bond you to your Scion right away and… and I can’t let you do that.”

I pull out of his grip. I can see the word in his eyes even if he doesn’t say it: Abatement.

Nick doesn’t want me to suffer the consequences of bonding. Doesn’t want me to die before my time. The affection—and fear—on his face, all for me, makes my head swim. But there’s determination there, plain in the sharp angles of his brow and jaw. Right now, he’s giving me a choice to walk away. But now that I know who he is and what he could become, I know that choice could be taken from me.

I search his gaze, wondering. Would he do that? Have me thrown out? Would I let him?

Another tact first: “I can resist that Oath.”

“Maybe you can, but your Scion will know, so Sel will know. He’ll send you to the Regents.”

“And you can order him not to. Or we’ll find the information another way. Or maybe I take the Oath and just let it happen!” I throw up my hands. “I know about Abatement.”

His eyes widen like I’ve uttered a word not spoken in polite company. “That’s—”

“What I’m willing to risk to find the truth!” He begins to protest, but I cut him off again. The decision became clear as soon as I said it aloud. “She’d have done the same for me.”

After a long, measuring look, he finally nods. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

The tension in the room dissolves some, and I can breathe easier. “Maybe Camlann won’t come after all. William said Arthur hasn’t Called his Scion in two hundred and fifty years.”

“He hasn’t needed to, but that doesn’t mean he won’t.” He runs a hand through his hair. “God, I wish things were different for you. Do you have any idea how many Scions and Squires wish they could just walk away?”

“Like you did?”