“Merlins are the Order’s sorcerers. Their affinity for aether is so strong they’re essentially supersoldiers. Trained from birth, assigned to posts, and sent on missions to hunt rogue Shadowborn, keep Onceborn populations safe, close Gates…”

My breath catches. A mission. “They never let us see her body. Could—could she have been attacked by a demon?”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “A Merlin can detect a demon miles away, and even then, most are incorporeal isels. Visible to someone with the Sight, but not strong enough to cause physical harm. Onceborn deaths are extremely rare because they’re exactly what Merlins are trained to prevent. That, and securing the Code. If Onceborns ever knew the truth, there’d be mass fear, chaos—two things Shadowborn thrive on. No, this doesn’t make any sense.” His eyes darken. “Unless…”

A cold hand grips my heart. “Unless what?”

“Unless the mission went bad. The Code threatened. Merlins are authorized to do whatever it takes to keep the war hidden.”

I remember Sel’s cruelty with the boy at the Quarry. The near torture of the isel. His disregard for my wounds last night.

“What if she got in his way somehow? Or—or he failed and wanted to cover his tracks?”

When I look up, Nick’s expression holds disgust. Old pain, resurfaced. And a question.

Maybe the question. The one all the others have led to.

The one that changes everything just by the asking.

“Would a Merlin kill someone?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t—”

“The truth.”

He looks at me then, his voice iron. “I’m not a liar. Not outside the Code.”

“Would they?”

His eyes slide shut. A single nod.

Everything inside me burns. A furnace, roiling, turning. I draw my shoulders back and steel myself. “I know the date. The time. Location. If I tell you what he looks like…”

He spreads his hands. “There are hundreds of Merlins all over the world. Even if I knew every one, they won’t tell me anything. Each Merlin takes the Oath of Service to the High Council of Regents. They’re the ones that assign Merlins to their missions, and no Regent will speak to an outsider.”

“You’re Legendborn. Speak to the Regents on my behalf.”

A heavy sigh leaves him. “Technically, yes, but procedurally? No. I renounced my formal title years ago—very publicly. Upset a lot of people. I’m sorry, Bree, I—”

“I don’t care!” I shout, and close in on him until our faces are inches apart. “Let me make this clear. My mother is dead, and a Merlin might have killed her. At the very least, he hid the facts. I’m not leaving until I get answers. If you can’t help me, tell me who will.”

He holds both palms up. “I hear you. I do! But you’ll never get near the Regents.”

“Because I’m not in this—this club?”