Nick takes a step toward his Kingsmage. When he speaks, his voice is deadly quiet. “What did you do?”

The muscle in Sel’s jaw twitches, but he holds Nick’s gaze.

Another step. “What did you do?”

Sel lifts his chin. “I could have called the hound off her at any moment—”

Using the momentum of his next step, Nick throws a fast, hard punch to Sel’s jaw. The hit knocks the sorcerer back into the same oak that stunned the fox. Nick must have put real power into his swing, because my ears ring with the crack of bone meeting bone. It all happens so fast—had to, to catch Sel off guard—that it takes a second for anyone else to react. Sarah yelps and Evan curses, but no one moves to step between them.

Sel is against the tree trunk, utterly still, his stunned expression warring with a visible urge to retaliate.

“Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, Nicholas,” he finally mutters. He pushes to standing and spits bright red blood onto the grass before dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. It leaves a crimson streak across his pale knuckles. “You know I can’t strike you in return.”

In a voice made of iron, Nick says, “Precisely.”

Sel’s eyes flash. His lips curl over bloodied teeth, then smooth over in the same breath. Fury, barely bottled.

My eyes dart between the two of them, king-to-be and his sworn protector. When they’d battled in the woods that first night, Sel had aimed for me, not Nick. The Kingsmage Oath means he can never intend to injure Nick without risking his own destruction, but it does nothing to prevent Nick from harming Sel. They’d grown up together with this power imbalance, but I’d never expect Nick to exploit it. Not like this…

Sel shrugs, like Nick’s violence is no matter, but tension radiates from his shoulders, the raised veins of his neck. He chuckles—then winces, bringing a hand to his chin. “Hm. You don’t have Arthur’s strength yet, but I think you almost broke my jaw. Imagine the damage you’ll do once you’re Awakened.”

“Is this why you wanted to be with Bree tonight? To threaten my Page with your constructs?” Nick’s fists shake at his sides. “To defy me?”

The Kingsmage scowls and looks away, and I see where the anger is truly directed: at himself. He slipped up and his abilities failed him—just like Lord Davis suggested that night in the woods. And here is Lord Davis’s son, bearing witness to that failure and punishing him for it.