Lord Davis steps forward to speak into a microphone on a stand. “If I could have your attention, please.” He’s in a dark black suit with a deep gold regalia sash that drapes over both shoulders and comes to a point in the center of his chest. A gold star pendant hangs down from the pointed end, and in its center, a white diamond winks in the chandelier light.

The ballroom quiets into a restless silence. On the edges of the room, I notice the waitstaff being ushered out of the side doors by people who look like bouncers. Gillian’s there, and Owen too. Lieges, escorting outsiders out of earshot. Once the band members leave too, the doors are locked.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming to the annual Selection Gala of the Southern Chapter!” The crowd applauds until Lord Davis waves them down. “Unfortunately, this year’s gala comes at a time of strain for our Order. As you all know, increased crossings have been seen up and down the East Coast at all chapters, including our own here in the South.”

Beside me, a woman reaches for her husband’s hand. Sel’s shoulders stiffen.

“The last uprising of demons was over two hundred years ago.” Davis raises his chin. “And while none of us were living in that time, we know from the records that this”—he thrusts his finger down toward the floor, his voice rising as he speaks—“is how Camlann begins. This is how it starts. And we know, as in centuries past, that our ancestors prepared us for such a time and equipped us with the birthright to beat the hordes back!”

Applause from the crowd rises to meet his fervor, and the Tristans pump their fists. Out of the side of my eye, I see Fitz, cracking his knuckles like a prized fighter about to go in the ring.

“And as in centuries past…” Davis pauses, tipping his head back to the sky and holding his hand over his chest in reverence. “Let us recommit ourselves to the mission and one another by joining in our sacred pledge.”

Around me, the voices speak the pledge in unison.

“When the shadows rise, so will the light, when blood is shed, blood will Call. By the King’s Table, for the Order’s might, by our eternal Oaths, the Line is Law.”

Sel’s eyes, swirling with emotion, fall to mine.

Davis fixes the room with a steady stare. “My fellow descendants, let us waste no time in our preparation for what we know comes next.” He gestures for Nick and the others to step forward alongside him.

Down on the floor below the stage, the five remaining Pages stand in a line, facing the stage and the three Scions. Sydney, Greer, Blake, Vaughn, and Whitty.

A week ago, I’d have been there too.

“Scion Sitterson, please step forward and announce your choice for Squire.”