“This is the time, Selwyn!” William shouts. “You yourself said you could feel if Nick is in harm’s way. He’s not. We need to arm ourselves with information. About Bree, about Nick, about how this all happened.”

Greer shakes their head. “If Nick isn’t the Scion of Arthur, then why did they take him?” They’ve been mostly silent on the couch all morning, eyes red-rimmed with tears for Whitty and Russ. Their grief is the voice-stealing kind. The kind that lives in your throat like slivers of glass.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sel sneers. “To keep the Table from gathering! If they hold him hostage while Camlann has come, the Regents will do everything in their power to get the Awakened Scion of Lancelot back. Give Davis whatever he wants. If they don’t, the Table will never be at its full strength and it will fall to the Shadowborn. And to the Line of Morgaine—who are now in league with demons, if what the goruchel said is true.”

“That’s exactly why we need to understand the Scion we do have!” William says, sitting down on the couch. “Bree is something new. Something powerful. We need to understand the situation she’s in, and by extension, the situation we’re in.” He turns to me. “Now, Bree, my theory is that Arthur will inhabit you in ways we’ve never seen. Not just his abilities, but his spirit, his emotions, memories, possibly.”

William’s grief has sent him diving into work. He’s eager to dig into all that Arthur’s possession entails, but I have no desire to revisit it. Not when I can still feel him in the back of mind. I hold William’s gaze for a long moment, then look away.

Tor excuses herself just as Sarah walks in with a carafe of coffee and a tray of mugs.

While we’ve been talking, Greer has been spreading stacks of William’s yellowed documents and heavy, leather-bound records across the coffee table. “I still don’t get it. How is Nick Lancelot’s Scion and Bree Arthur’s?”

William rests his hand on my knee. “Bree, this is where we need you to fill in the gaps. Last night when Sel carried you upstairs, you were mumbling about Vera and a baby.” He shakes his head. “Who is Vera?”

All eyes turn to me, just as I knew they would.

“My ancestor,” I say quietly. “She was enslaved on a Scion of Arthur’s plantation.”

Greer and Sarah shift uncomfortably on the couch. Sel sucks in a breath between his teeth.

I tell them what I saw, remembering it all myself as the words spill forth. I tell them about everything except the woman at the hospital. When I stop, Sel looks at me closely. He knows I’m holding something back. I shake my head imperceptibly. Later. He narrows his eyes, but nods.