I nod absentmindedly. The charm bracelet has been in my thoughts since I found it. Manipulating objects with aether feels like the Order’s practice, and the vision had felt sort of like a mesmered memory surfacing from somewhere deep inside me. But the bracelet had been activated by touch, which feels more like Rootcraft, and the experience of it—being inside the memory as my current self and as my past self—felt like a memory walk. Is my mother’s bracelet a Rootcraft item or an Order one? And who was the woman with her?

“I know that look,” Sel says with a sigh. “Tell me, will you always be the mystery girl?”

I smile. “Probably.”

“May I assist with this quest?” Something harsh and tight in his voice makes me look up. “Or will Nicholas feel left out again?”

“That’s not fair.”

He shrugs. “It’s a limited-time offer.” His next words are strained and only whispered. “I may not be here much longer myself.”

I stiffen. “Are you really getting replaced? Is that still on the table?”

“It hasn’t been taken off the table.”

“But you’re not…” I struggle for the right word.

“A raging, feral demon?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “After what we learned about my mother, it would be foolish to not keep an eye on myself.”

I look away so that he doesn’t see how much his last words pain me and because I don’t think he’d appreciate pity. I wish he didn’t have to carry the knowledge of his mother’s actions and worry that he’s capable of them too. I wish he didn’t have to be scared of himself or live knowing that others were scared of what he’d become. I realize now that his drive to hunt me down must have, on some level, been about a desperate need to prove to the chapter that he was trustworthy. Now that I know his family history and what that could mean about his sanity and when he might lose it…

I look back up at him then, and our gazes lock. I put all of my faith into my eyes, so that he can receive it, hold it, remember it when I’m gone. I communicate it with a squeeze of my right hand to his left, and the press of my palm against his shoulder. I’m not scared of you. His golden eyes widen, and I think he understands. At least, I hope so.

Sel clears his throat and turns us again. He admires my hair, taking in the size and shape of it; then his eyes follow the line of my temple to my borrowed earrings, down my neck and shoulders. “You look stunning this evening, Briana.”