“Say the names again,” William says, riffling through a large, musty-smelling brown book. “The men’s names.”

I take a shuddering breath. “Davis. And Reynolds.”

William stops on a page, trails his finger down, until, “And there it is.”

“There what is?” Sarah says. We all lean in over the table.

William points to a yellow page with columns of names, dates, and locations. “This is Nick’s family. The Davis line. In the early 1800s Samuel Davis was the Scion of Arthur. Samuel”—William grimaces—“was a slave owner. He owned a plantation maybe twenty-five miles from town.”

The room falls silent around me.

“Davis knew if Vera had his child, that child would be a Scion,” Sel says. “If there was even a sliver of a chance she was carrying his child, he’d hunt her down.”

“But because she survived, she gave birth to a Scion,” William says thoughtfully. He turns to me. “Which means that you and your whole family are a splinter in the Line. The blood of Arthur has been running in your veins for generations.”

“And what about Davis’s wife?” I ask faintly. “The blond woman in my vision? She was sleeping with Reynolds.”

“Her name was Lorraine.” William flips to another page in the same book and blows out a breath. He taps a row of notes and names. “Reynolds is the surname of the Line of Lancelot. And Paul Michael Reynolds lived near here around the same time.”

“Like Guinevere,” Sarah whispers, eyes growing wide. “It’s just like the legend. Lancelot is Arthur’s most trusted knight, until he sleeps with his king’s wife. Lorraine sleeps with Reynolds and passes the baby off as Davis’s. Maybe he was even in on it, since he never found Vera or her child.”

William nods, staring down at the book on his table. “Samuel Martin Davis, Jr., born the same year. Their only child on record, and Nick’s ancestor eight generations back. Reynolds, on the other hand, isn’t recorded as having any children until later. He had three sons and a daughter. The Order has all of their records here.”

Sel stands up, pacing the room. “Which means Lord Davis and Nick are not Davises at all, from a bloodline perspective. They’re Reynoldses. And the Reynolds at the Northern Chapter right now is from the Line of Lancelot, but he’s not the eligible Scion.”

“Nick is,” I whisper, and all eyes turn to me. “His face last night… I’ve never seen him look so broken.”

When I look up, I catch William’s worried expression. The glance of concern he shares with Sel.