Davis claps for attention. “Rise, siblings, as Oathed Pages of the Order of the Round Table and sworn servants of the Round Table!”

The night’s sober tone finally breaks, and we are teenagers and students once again. There are whoops and cheers from the Pages behind us, and whistles from the Legendborn before us. I push to my feet on legs that are half-asleep, my stomach pulled into a knot.

No one notices that the Oath of Fealty didn’t take or give me Sight. No one notices me at all.

Sel still kneels at the end of the altar, head bent over the stone, palms pressed to the surface. For a moment, I think he’s been injured or overexerted by the Oath, but then those thoughts disappear.

Sel doesn’t look pained—he looks intoxicated: eyes half-lidded, and unfocused, cheeks flushed, mouth parted and panting. He drags his tongue over his lower lip—and looks up to find me staring. I stiffen and turn away.

Whitty slaps a hand on my back in celebration, and I return his smile because I don’t know what else to do.

Sel calling Nick the prodigal son. Felicity, staring speechless like he was the second coming. The shock on Sarah’s face when I said his name. I’d been so focused on how I would uncover the Order’s secrets that I hadn’t stopped to really think about what all of those responses to Nick meant. I’d thought about what Nick represents to me but not what Nick represents to everyone else.

I look up to find Nick staring at me with a guarded expression, like he’s waiting for me to arrive at the truth in my own way.

I suppose I have.…

He is King Arthur’s descendant.

Davis calls us to order. “Let us close with the solemn pledge of our eternal Order.”

The new Pages glance at one another. We don’t know the pledge, but it seems we’re expected to learn by example.

The chapter chants as one, and even though I can’t hear his voice in the chorus, Nick joins them.

“When the shadows rise, so will the light, when blood is shed, blood will Call. By the King’s Table, for the Order’s might, by our eternal Oaths, the Line is Law.”

Davis turns to the stars in benediction. “By heaven’s holy hand, the Line is—”

A bloodcurdling scream splits the night, and everyone freezes. The cry echoes against the trees, bounces off the stone beneath our feet. I pivot, searching for its source, and then the sound comes again, a shriek of pain that lifts the hair on the back of my neck.

At the back of the group, Felicity is on her knees with both hands clutching her temples. The crowd steps away just as Russ dashes to her side.