My eyes track back to the left of the Bell Tower. “ ‘I was the first and my rest is the oldest, let there be no debate.’ ”

“While it’s quite poetic, it’s not a cantrip, Matthews.” Sel saunters over, shadows clinging to his gliding shape. “Repetition will not make its meaning clearer.”

“Shut up.” His left eye twitches in silent reproach.

I have a feeling I know where the next object is, but I’m not quite ready to go there. It feels too soon. But what choice do I have?

I sigh and gesture for him to follow. “Come on.”

The first was a young DiPhi boy buried in the late 1700s.

That’s what Patricia said. And, thanks to Alice, I know DiPhi is the very old campus debating society. I desperately wish I’d asked Patricia to point out the grave marker during the day, because searching for it at night is like looking for a certain shade of blue in the ocean.

The graveyard is poorly lit by intermittent lampposts, and the wide hedges and hills make it slow going. As apprehensive as I thought I might be, the graveyard actually feels… familiar to me now.

Each time I check over my shoulder, Sel is there, a silent figure blending into the shadows in one moment, limned by golden light in the next. I think I hear him chuckle, but the sound is carried away on a gust that whips dirt and twigs into my face.

“You’ve never seen me harm Nick, so why do you still think I’m Shadowborn?” I don’t know why I ask. Maybe because with me in the lead, I don’t have to look him in the face.

“You’re immune to mesmer.”

“Not true,” I retort, hiking up a particularly long hill.

“Lies.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “You wield the Sight too easily for someone who has only recently received it. You Saw the isel at the Quarry.” That surprises me, but I don’t show it. He strides up the hill with frustrating ease, and when he reaches the top to look down at me and Nick’s coin on my chest, there’s casual contempt in his eyes. “And you have enthralled Nicholas.”

I sputter, heat filling my cheeks, and tuck the necklace away. “What? Enthralled?! I—no—he—he… That’s…” Sel raises a black brow. A curious hawk, watching a frantic mouse skitter back and forth.

He makes a soft, dismissive sound in the back of his throat. Not wanting to hear any more about Nick or any sort of thralling, I turn and walk down the hill to the next section of graves.