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Back Legendborn Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Dedication
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. THREE MONTHS LATER
  4. PART ONE ORDER
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. PART TWO DISCORD
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. PART THREE ROOTS
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. PART FOUR SPLINTER
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

He narrows his eyes in speculation. “If you know I’m Legendborn, then you must know you’re speaking within the Code. You can answer me freely. How do you know that word?”

I chew on my bottom lip to buy myself time. The way he says “Code” sounds as if there should be formal trust between us. Sure, Tor and Sel possess an easy ruthlessness that I can’t, at the moment, find in Nick’s face, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. If he’s Legendborn, he could be dangerous. “What will you do to me if I answer that question?”

Surprise ripples across his features. “Do to you?”

I nod, my heart thumping in my chest. “Threaten me? Break something I’d rather keep in one piece? Turn me over to the cops?”

His blue eyes dim, a storm cloud crossing the sky. “I’m not going to do any of those things.” He gestures toward my arms. “Why would I bring you here to our healer if I wanted to injure you? If I wanted you to end up with the police, why didn’t I drop you off in front of a hospital?”

“Maybe you still plan to dump me at a hospital,” I shoot back. “Maybe the police are on the way.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, and just like that, he’s Nick from the dining hall again: amused and wry. “Bree, short for Briana. Pushy and stubborn. She doesn’t accept what she sees with her own eyes, won’t accept what she hears with her own ears.” He appears to turn an idea over in his head before pinning it to me with his eyes to see if it fits. “Or at least, that’s what she’d like me to believe. Is ‘Bree’ even your real name?”

Bristling, I ask, “What about my memory? You could still erase that.”

His grin falls away. “No. I couldn’t.”

Fear makes me bold. “Not a Merlin?”

“You know I’m not.” His eyes narrow, and the corners of his mouth turn down in a mixture of resignation and disappointment. His low chuckle is laced with fatigue and the tiniest thread of anger. “All right, I get it. You know about Merlins and their mesmers, so you’re Oathed, but you’re not a Page from our chapter. Who sent you, then? Was it Western? You here to evaluate me?”

My mouth opens, then closes, because I have no idea how to answer. Who does he think I am? Who do I want him to think I am?

I decide we’re playing a strange sort of game, he and I. Each searching for the knowledge that the other has before we reveal any more of our own. I know why I want his answers, but I don’t know yet why he wants mine.