I tell him then—my small lie of omission from inside the Lodge. I tell him that I’d seen his mother in my memory walk, that she and my mother had been friends, and that she’d been there that night at the hospital—in mourning. That she’d posed as the Merlin assigned to my mother’s case, if that Merlin had even existed. That his mother watched over my family for who knows how many years to ensure that we were safe from the Order. Our mothers were friends. Allies. Like Nick, our bloodlines are connected in ways we’d never imagined.

When I finish speaking, his mouth has fallen open in silent shock.

“Sel?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just—” He shakes his head, recovers. “Even if she escaped their prison, overpowered and mesmered her Merlin guards as Isaac did to me… how could she have survived? At her age and power level? Away from the Order, she’d have succumbed to her blood years ago.”

“But at the hospital,” I begin carefully, “your mother was lucid, focused. Mourning, but in complete control of her abilities.”

His eyelids flutter. “That’s… impossible.”

“It is,” I whisper, “if what the Order told you is true.”

His dark eyebrows wing upward in shock. “Bree…”

“What if Merlins don’t have to succumb to their blood? Just—just what if?”

He blows out a long, slow sigh. “That would change everything we’re taught about how our powers progress, how our blood works, why we’re Oathed in the first place, why they lock us away…” His eyes narrow in warning. “If that were true, this would be dangerous knowledge to possess. Or share. Even for you.”

“I figured.” I nod, picking at the wood beneath my fingers. “It’s why I waited until we were alone.”

We stand in silence for a long moment, considering how much our worlds have already changed, and how much change is still to come.

I feel Sel’s attention on my cheeks—and wonder when the sparks in his eyes had become a comforting heat.

“What?” I murmur, looking up at him.

“You are my king now, cariad.” His low voice carries all the intimacy of a caress, and his eyes are a melted gold. I turn away, overwhelmed at the meaning in both.

I don’t ask him what “cariad” means, because, in my heart, I’m scared of his answer. Scared to be torn in two once more when my reality has been a slow shatter all morning.

Sel touches my chin, guides my face back to his. “Camlann has come. We are at war. Against the Shadowborn and the Morgaines both. Against enemies that can hide in plain sight.” A pause while he searches my features. “You need—”

“You are Oathed to Nick,” I cut him off, my voice thin.