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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

Silence. I wonder why Sel isn’t speaking up. Just a few minutes ago he had been so certain, so full of determined rage.

“We rely on your senses, son.” Davis makes a thoughtful sound. “Are your abilities becomin’ unpredictable, Kingsmage?”

A pause. Sel’s terse response comes through clenched teeth. “There is always that risk, Lord Davis.”

“You look unhappy, boy. As the Gospel of Luke instructs, let us celebrate and be glad of Nicholas’s return, for ‘he was lost and is found.’ ” Another pause in which Sel could counter Nick’s explanation, but doesn’t. “Bree, I must apologize for both my son and Selwyn here. Oil and water, these two, ever since they were children.” I nod. Satisfied, Davis moves down the path. “Let us proceed to the Chapel. Don’t want to keep the others waitin’. Not on a night such as this.”

Nick guides me forward. I don’t hear Sel say or do anything else. In fact, the only footsteps I hear are Nick’s and his father’s.

12

WHEN SEL’S MESMER lifts, my sight returns all at once. Lights off, lights on. It’s so disorienting that beside me Greer falls forward on both hands. All five of us—the first-year Pages—blink the world back into existence while on our knees, integrating sound with sight: the sound of water streaming over rocks nearby—from a creek maybe—deeper in the forest to our right. The waning moon sending light down on us from overhead, turning leaves from green to silver. We kneel before a low, curved altar that protrudes up the slab itself, our faces lit by flickering candlelight.

Eight Legendborn stand before us, arranged along the far arc of the stone circle, their hoods drawn low. Five new figures in robes of gray—the veteran Pages, I’d wager—flank them on either side. In the middle is a single man in a deep crimson robe edged in gold, his cowl pulled back just enough to see his face. Dr.—no, Lord—Martin Davis. He looks almost exactly like his portrait.

Davis steps forward, his arms hidden in the deep sleeves. When he speaks, his voice is sonorous and steady. “My name is Lord Martin Davis, and I am the Viceroy of the Southern Chapter and its territories. Each of you has been invited by a Legendborn member who deems you worthy of initiation as a Page. The five of you kneel before us because you have the spark of eternal potential.”