Sel enters the room, but Nick steps in his path and places a broad hand on the other boy’s chest, stopping him. Sel’s eyes drop to the fingers splayed against his dark gray shirt. A feral grin curves along his elegant mouth. “There may come a day when you can stop me, but you and I both know it’s not today.”

Nick’s nostrils flare, and for a brief moment I’m certain that he’s about to throw a punch. That the warrior I’d seen fighting a hellhound could easily throw Sel over his shoulder or knock him into a wall so hard it’ll leave a crack. But Sel’s fingers begin to twitch at his sides, silver rings flashing against the black of his pants, and Nick does not strike. His eyes screw shut, and he lowers his hand.

Sel looks almost disappointed, but he steps smoothly around Nick, tossing “You don’t have to watch” over his shoulder as he walks. A shadow of some emotion runs beneath the granite of his voice.

Nick meets my eyes behind Sel’s back, his earlier plea plain on his face: Don’t let him know.

Sel moves into my field of vision and peers down with a speculative gleam in his eyes. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Perhaps I should be concerned to meet you two days in a row, but no Shadowborn would have made herself as vulnerable as you have tonight, which means you must simply be… unlucky.” That word again, Shadowborn. When Sel says it, his face twists into a sneer.

“You are Unanedig. Onceborn.” The Kingsmage’s eyes—scientific, assessing—track every tremble of my frame. “So your body isn’t accustomed to aether. That’s why you’re dizzy.”

“Screw you.”

“Sit.” Sel’s voice rolls over me like a wave. When I don’t comply, he steps forward and that deep-down, primordial fear of him presses against me. I sit.

Nick takes half a step forward. “Minimal intervention directive,” he urges. “Just the last couple hours.”

Sel rolls his eyes. “Orders, Nicholas? As if I am not bound by the same laws you so carelessly neglect?”

My eyes fly to Nick’s. He nods as if to confirm what’s about to happen. He’s going to erase my memory again. Sel kneels in front of me, and the same heady, spiced smoke scent swirls around me, filling my nose. “Your name?” he purrs in that same rolling voice.

“Her name is Briana.” Nick gives Sel my legal name, not my preferred one.

My mind races. Last time Sel’s mesmer worked, but only for a little while. How did I break it? There was the light, then the pain in my palm—