My stomach flips a bit at his teased revelation. Tor and Sel dated? Or, if not dated, they’d… I push it from my mind. “So, he’s not… evil?”

“Volatile, like I said, but not evil.” William scratches his chin in thought. “From both a medical and military perspective, Merlins are perfect warriors: hearts like long-distance runners, pumping a leisurely thirty beats per minute; core temps a toasty one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit—hot enough to cook a human brain like chicken fried steak, but it means they burn away any human viruses or bugs. Enhanced metabolism, speed, strength, vision—”

“And hearing!” The door slams open behind us and Sel sweeps in, yellow eyes blazing.

William bolts out of his chair, hands up. “Sel, calm down!”

I back away as Sel bears down on me, the tips of his hair smoking. “Snooping about me now, are you? Looking for information you can use against me?”

Even though the details of Sel’s physiology are still echoing in my ears, after all I’ve experienced today, I can’t stand the idea of letting even Sel, with his superhuman physiology, make me cower. “This is getting real old, Kingsmage. You need new tricks.”

Before Sel can respond, William steps in between us in a way I’ve only ever seen Nick do. “You need to cool down. Bree wasn’t snooping. If you’re going to get angry at anyone, get angry at me for telling her.”

“Oh, I am,” Sel growls. His golden eyes rain hot sparks all over me.

“Throwing a temper tantrum, crossroads child?” I spit. Both of Sel’s dark brows fly up to his hairline, and red spots appear on his cheeks. Direct hit.

“Stop it! Both of you!” William orders. He presses his back against me, crowding me into the wall. “If you’re going to hurt Bree, you’ll have to go through me to do it, which your Oath of Service won’t allow. So instead of making a fool of yourself, just walk.” He jerks his head toward the door. “Shoo.”

Sel glances between the two of us a final time, then leaves the room in an angry blur. In the distance, another door slams, marking his exit.

“Oath of Service?” How many Oaths are there? And how many has Sel sworn?

William sighs, still facing the open door and hallway. “Sel’s primary Oath is to Nick. His second is to the Legendborn.” He turns around to wag a finger in my face. “But he’s right about one thing. You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

At this point, I can’t say I disagree.

It’s way too easy to convince the bouncer at Tap Rail that I am a twenty-one-year-old Black woman named Monica Staten. I blink down at the NC driver’s license in my hand, stunned.

“I can’t believe that worked,” I say.