Vaughn stabs a particularly bloody piece of beef and only sits back to look at me after he shoves it in his mouth. His eyes are the same brown color as his mother’s, but where hers offered kindness, his deliver spite. “Then why’d you stay behind with the Legendborn last night even though we were given direct orders to return to the Lodge? What’d you think you’d do? Impress a Scion by showin’ off during a fight?”

“That’s not what happened, I…” Other Pages have fixed me with their own stares, some curious, some accusatory. “I froze. I tried to run back to the Lodge, but the uchel got to me first.”

“Right,” Vaughn sneers. “Then why are you spending time alone with the Scion of Arthur? Getting a pep talk? Giving him a helping hand?”

I freeze, stunned at his implication. Blood rushes in my ears like an angry ocean, but not loud enough to block out the snickers of the veteran Pages beside him. Ones I don’t know, Ainsley, and the two third-year wrestling twins, Carson and Blake.

“You think I…” I can’t even say it, what he thinks I’m doing to buy Nick’s favor.

Vaughn points his knife at my chest. “I think you’ve let that coin around your neck go to your head.”

“Put your knife down, Schaefer.” Whitty’s usually slow drawl is low with warning. “Nick can spend time talkin’ to his Page. Ain’t no harm there.”

“His Page, not his Squire,” Vaughn spits. “He brought her forth, but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna make it through the Trials. And even if she does, that doesn’t mean she’ll be Selected.”

“I know that,” I grit out, fingers digging into my thighs.

“Good.” Vaughn gestures at the rest of the watching Pages as he speaks, his voice charged. “Because a lot of us here have waited and trained our whole lives to become a Legendborn Squire. And we’re not gonna let some affirmative action bullshit fuck up our chances.”

The table quiets as everyone waits for my response. Some of the Pages look away. Some stare me down. Others sit, jaws open and silent. Vaughn’s smug mouth is half-twisted in a snarl.

I want to smash the damn scalloped potatoes into his face. I want to scream that preferential treatment for Vassals and rich kids is exactly how they got in the door. But Nick said I should disappear. Stay off the Vassals’ radar. Keep my head down to make it through the tournament.

He was foolish to think that was ever possible. For bigots, it doesn’t matter how or why I’m truly here; the fact that I’m here at all is wrong enough.

I’m going to make it through the tournament. I’ll do what it takes to finish my mission.