Alice would love this, I think. The history, the Wall, everything. Then I feel a pang of guilt for wishing she was with me. I’d never want her to get hurt, and right now bodily injury seems like the price of admission.

“Potential Scion children are told the lore early and often. First by our parents, then by the Lieges—retired Scions and Squires—then by our parents again when we turn sixteen. That’s the first year our knights may Call on us.” His eyes lose focus as he returns to a story he’s clearly heard many, many times. “At the Round Table’s peak, Arthur had over one hundred and fifty knights at his command. But over time, the Shadowborn Wars, our fight with the Cysgodanedig, cut that number down until only the thirteen strongest knights remained. Merlin and Arthur feared what the world would become should the Table fall, and so Merlin devised the Spell of Eternity: a powerful casting to magnify the remaining knights’ abilities and bind their spirits to their bloodline so that their heirs could forever stand against the darkness. So that the Table would live on, immortal.” William’s voice has dipped low with reverence, or perhaps he’s echoing the reverence of those who told the story before. “When our knights Awaken, their spirit lives again. This is why we call those outside the Lines Unanedig. ‘Onceborn.’ And why we call ourselves Chwedlanedig. ‘Legendborn.’ ”

To be able to trace one’s family back that far is something I have never fathomed. My family only knows back to the generation after Emancipation. Suddenly, it’s hard to stand here and take in the magnificence of the Wall and not feel an undeniable sense of ignorance and inadequacy. Then, a rush of frustration because someone probably wanted to record it all, but who could have written down my family’s history as far back as this? Who would have been able to, been taught to, been allowed to? Where is our Wall? A Wall that doesn’t make me feel lost, but found. A Wall that towers over anyone who lays eyes on it.

Instead of awe, I feel… cheated.

I take a deep breath and turn to William, my voice harsh. “You said sixth century? Wouldn’t each knight’s bloodline include thousands of living descendants by now?”