Legendborn

by Tracy Deonn

  Ass.

  Beside me, Nick tilts his head with a frown, eyes drawn to my mouth. “No smile. Everything okay?”

  “Not exactly.” How do I talk about what I saw on the memory walk? I witnessed something no one I know has ever seen. How would I even begin to talk about it with a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy who would have never been on the receiving end of Carr’s whip? Would Cecilia and Ruth even want me to share their memories? They hadn’t shown them to Patricia.

  I don’t know how to carry the borrowed images that still feel alive and raw in my body. How does Patricia do it?

  “You said you wanted to talk?”

  I gesture off to the side of the porch where we can have some privacy. He catches my drift and shoves up from the table, grabbing a tot on the way. Before we can untangle our legs from the picnic table, Vaughn strolls by. Without preamble, he asks, “So, is the Table being reunited or what?”

  A beat of silence.

  Nick regards the other boy quietly before he answers. “If you’re asking if Arthur has Called me yet…” He looks down the table at the other listening faces. “If any of you are wondering that, the answer is no. Not yet.”

  “I got a friend up at Western.” Whitty shoves his hands in his pockets beside Evan. “Said they’ve seen six Shadowborn up there in the last week.”

  Nick sighs so quietly that only I can hear it. He drops his half-eaten tater tot into the basket and wipes his fingertips. “My dad is talking it over with the Regents tonight and tomorrow. If Tor is Called”—he looks down the table where Sar is perched on Tor’s lap—“the plan may change, but for now, we’re to sit tight, keep training, and keep our eyes open.”

  “Here, here!” Evan calls, and those with drinks raise their glasses. Some of the Legendborn toast to their Lines or the Order itself.

  Nick and I take the opportunity to slip away and head down the steps to the empty lawn and abandoned cornhole tables. Once we reach the bottom of the stairs, he tugs me into the dark nook underneath the porch and leans down to my ear. “You look great tonight.”

  I shiver even though the night is hot and muggy. “Thank you.”

  He laces our fingers together and flashes a small, secret smile. “So, about yesterday morning…”

  “What about yesterday morning?” I ask, the fresh thrill of being in his orbit returning in a single rush.

  That smile stretches into a grin as he shakes his head. “You forget already, B?” He slides one palm up my shoulder to my neck, caresses my collarbone with his thumb. Draws me in until our foreheads touch. “Must have been an awful kiss,” he murmurs.

  “Terrible,” I breathe, and the coiled tension of the day releases by a thread.

  “I knew it,” he says, then angles his mouth to meet mine—and the sound of a throat clearing beside us breaks us apart.

  Sel stands at Nick’s elbow. “The drive to the airport was one thing, but now that you’re back, I need you to stay in sight.”

  Nick sighs and releases me. “We need to talk in private for a few minutes, Sel. We aren’t leaving.” He moves to step around Sel, but Sel follows, stopping us.

  The Kingsmage’s eyes flick down to our joined hands. “This is a bad idea.”

  I can’t tell if he means our leaving the porch or our holding hands, and Nick’s stormy expression says he notices the ambiguity too, and doesn’t appreciate it. I didn’t realize I’d started to pull away until Nick’s hand tightens around mine. “Leave us.”

  Sel’s eyes slide to the crowd over Nick’s shoulder, then back. “Is that an order?”

  “It is.”

  Sel’s mouth curves into a sardonic smile. “Cute. But your father left me in charge while he’s gone, and you’re staying here. The Shadowborn want you, and I’m not going to make their job easier.”

  Nick is so incensed I can hear his teeth grinding together. “Sel…”

  “Don’t make a scene, Nicholas.”

  I chance a quick look over my shoulder. Tor’s watching our exchange, and so are a few others. Sarah, Russ, Vaughn, Fitz. I tug on Nick’s hand, and his eyes drop to mine. I try to communicate with my eyes that I don’t want an audience. The look on his face says he understands, but he’s still not happy. He lets me lead him back to the tables. He sits close again, so that our shoulders and hips are snug, but this time I can feel his entire body shaking in impotent rage.

  * * *

  Back in my room, I miss Alice already, but I also feel a guilty sort of relief that she’s gone; all of this lying and hiding is wearing me thin.

  “How did you find this out again?” Nick asks, the confusion in his voice clear over the phone. I’d spent the last twenty minutes pacing the length of our room, filling him in on the mysterious figure on campus who opened a Gate twenty-five years ago.

  “Are you sure Sel can’t hear you?”

  “I told you, he’s on patrol with Tor and Sar and ordered me to stay inside the Lodge’s wards.” I remember the aether shield I’d touched that first time I visited the Lodge and how it ripples against my skin whenever I walk through it. Sarah had explained that the wards will keep out anyone—or anything—who hasn’t been invited. I hate to say it, but I agree with Sel; Nick should stay inside for now.

  “Bree?” Nick prompts, then repeats, “Who told you about this other Gate opening?”

  “I don’t know if I can say,” I say with a sigh.

  He chuckles. “Okay…”

  I plop down on my comforter. “I don’t want to betray this person’s trust or put them at risk. You’re the one who told me that the Regents are severely anti–aether users they don’t control.”

  “I did. So this person is an aether user? On campus?”

  I hesitate. But this is Nick. I can tell him at least that much. “Yes.”

  “An aether user you found? Or one that found you?”

  “A bit of both?”

  “Are they safe?” The concern in his voice is clear.

  “Yes. They want to help me. And they were here when my mom was here, although they didn’t know her well. They… keep a low profile.”

  He takes this news surprisingly well. “Probably best I don’t know who they are, then. Are they like you?”

  I fall back on my pillow. “I don’t think so.”

  “Ah. But you believe them?”

  I gnaw on my lip, trying to think of the phrasing that will keep Rootcraft and memory walks and Patricia out of the conversation. “I believe what they showed me. Why? You don’t believe me?”

  He sighs, and I imagine him in his room, lying back on his bed too. The thought—and the memory of sleeping there with him—makes something warm curl up in a ball in my belly. “Oh, I believe you, but I’ve never heard of anything like that happening. Dad’s never said anything about it and neither has Sel, and as Kingsmage for this chapter he has access to all the records of Shadowborn Gate crossings, appearances, and attacks. I don’t think even the eighth-ranked Scion was Called back then, so it was peacetime as far as Camlann is concerned. As far as I know, only demon blood can open Gates, so maybe it was an uchel in human form?”

  I chew on my cheek, parsing through all that I’ve seen and learned today. “Or a Merlin?”

  “They’re bound by Oaths.”

  “What about a human holding a vial of demon blood?”

  “Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Something William said earlier about taking Sel’s bloodwork.”

  “Sel’s—” A pause. A sigh. “He told you about Sel?”

  I scrunch up my face. “I guessed.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because I’m clever.”

  “That you are.” Affection and pride bloom in his voice. “Well, Sel’s a cambion, so theoretically even his blood could work. But that’s still casting beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. Dark casting.”

  The chanting sounded dark. “The Line of Morgaine?”

  “Possibly. And this person just so happened to open this G
ate and release partial-corp hellhounds at the time you think your mother was enrolled?”

  “I’m positive it’s when she was here. It’s too much of a coincidence. The question is, if the Regents found out about the Gate opening, would they have kept it secret?”

  “Partial-corp hounds aren’t visible to Onceborns. The Merlin would have detected the pack and sent the chapter to kill them. No need to involve the Regents.”

  “But if the demons consumed enough aether to go full-corp?”

  A pause.

  “If Onceborns witnessed and were attacked by a corporeal pack, the Regents would do everything in their power to bury it. Work with the Vassals or former Pages in the university’s administration to keep it quiet on campus. Facilitate bribes to any outsiders in the town’s government to keep it off the news. Pay off any Onceborn families if their children were injured or killed. Mesmer them if they had to.”

  “What about sending a Merlin to chase down a Onceborn witness?” I ask. “Even if it’s almost three decades later?”

  “Without question.” He blows out a long, low stream of air. “I don’t trust the Order to always use the best methods, but the mission is protecting Onceborns, not murdering them.”

  “Yes, but maybe the mesmer didn’t take and they found out she was like me.”

  We both sit in silence for a moment. I can hear the gears turning in his head. His voice is wary, low. “If you accuse the High Council of Regents of murdering your mother, then you’ll expose yourself in the process. It won’t matter if you’re right or wrong.”

  For the second time today, it feels like I’ve been punched by someone’s words. “Of course it matters if I’m right!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He sighs. “I just—I don’t want anything to happen to you. I of all people know how it feels to want to go after the Regents for their sins, but I can’t protect you from them and the Merlins. Not on this. No one can, not even my dad. The only way…”

  I grip the phone tight. “The only way what?”

  When Nick speaks again, the familiar heaviness is threaded through his voice. “The only way I could stand between you and the Regents is if Arthur Calls me and I’m fully Awakened. As king, I’d control the whole of the Order, the Regents included. But if Arthur Calls me…”

  “Camlann.”

  “Camlann.”

  “So we just let them get away with this?”

  “No, we keep looking for proof, and when we find it, I bring it to my father. He never got over what they did to my mom. I think he’d help with this. And who knows, the way things are going, I might be king in a few weeks. Having proof in hand will only make it easier for me to find out who’s responsible.”

  “And punish them for what they did?”

  A long pause.

  “Punish them how, Bree? What would you have me do?”

  I don’t respond, but it’s not because I don’t know the answer.

  28

  “WELCOME TO THE second trial, Pagelings.”

  Sel stands like a drill sergeant on the Lodge’s front lawn, feet planted wide and hands behind his back. He’s dressed in black, as always, but his long coat is gone. His tattoos are on full display below sleeves rolled at the elbow. They wind down his forearms and wrists, and I can’t help but study them. I wonder how far up they go and how many he has before I remember that I detest him and shouldn’t care about his tattoos at all.

  The only people who don’t appear to be intimidated by him are Whitty and Vaughn. Neither one of them even looks tired; they bounce on the balls of their feet. Ready. The rest of us are barely awake, dragging, and fighting yawns.

  Evan, Fitz, and Tor had gone from dorm to dorm to wake us all up in the middle of the night. They’d banged on my door dressed in black tactical gear, faces covered in black and green grease, and yelled at me to get dressed in less than two minutes—or forfeit the tournament entirely. I’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep after getting off the phone with Nick.

  “Tonight’s event is a scavenger hunt.” From the way Sel’s gaze pauses on us, one at a time, I get the feeling he can definitely see better in the dark than we can. “We provide each of you with a list of aether-formed objects, and you all scurry around campus collecting them. The six Pages with the highest number of objects in their possession at the end of the night will progress to the third and final trial.”

  I glance down the row of Pages to my left. There are eight of us remaining. Greer, Whitty, Spencer, Vaughn, Sydney, Carson, and Blake.

  “How does a scavenger hunt…” Spencer yawns, a hand covering his mouth. “Test our strategic abilities?”

  “Look alive, Monroe.” Tor strides between Spencer and Vaughn, smacking her Page on the back of the head. Spencer steps forward with the force of it, indignation flashing on his face and delight rippling across Vaughn’s. “Sel left out the juiciest part. The more aether objects you collect, the more Sel’s aether hellhounds will be drawn to you. If you get cornered or injured, you automatically fail.”

  Tor and the rest of the Legendborn, eight Scions and Squires altogether, have emerged from the Lodge and joined Sel, lining up in a row across from us.

  Each sponsor moves to stand across from their Page, except for Evan. He’d sponsored Ainsley. I hadn’t seen her since she was disqualified, but I assume she only comes around the Lodge as needed now. I heard the eliminated Pages are still welcome for meals and events, even though they can’t compete.

  When Nick stands in front of me, my stomach leaps up somewhere near my lungs. Even covered in paint, even ten feet away, his face sends a wave of relief through me. If Nick’s here, I’ll be all right. The thought rings in my mind, clear and bright as a bell.

  Nick’s eyes take me in, flitting rapidly across my face. He mouths, “You okay?” I respond yes with a subtle dip of my chin. From the look on his face, he’s not happy that he’d been forced to keep tonight’s trial a surprise. Who knows? Maybe he himself only found out an hour or so before I did. He looks tired. And pissed.

  My cheeks prickle, and Sel clears his throat. Aside from his eyes flicking sharply away from me, the rest of his body has gone still with tension. “Lest anyone has forgotten, your sponsor cannot aid you during the Trials. Violations of this rule will result in elimination.”

  Tor produces a folder of papers and hands them to the Legendborn to her left and right. She also passes out drawstring bags to each Page. “Tonight’s hunt will pair each Page with a Scion or Squire who is not their sponsor, for monitoring purposes only. They will record your progress, report your final score, and dispatch a hound if you find yourself in trouble.”

  Tor pairs us off. Felicity is paired with Spencer. Russ pairs with Whitty. Victoria and Sarah split Carson and Blake, taking one each. William takes Greer, who seems pleased with this. I curse under my breath. If I couldn’t have Felicity, Evan, or Russ by my side, I’d want William. Greer shoots me a look of genuine apology, and I send a weak smile back; I could be disappointed, but it’s not their fault.

  That leaves Nick and Pete, the Scion of Owain. And Fitz. A needle of fear spears my insides. I silently beg Tor not to torture me with Fitz. I don’t know Pete at all, but I know he’s new, and kind.

  “Pete, you’ll go with Vaughn.” Tor taps her bottom lip, staring at me and Sydney. We’re the only two Pages left.

  If I can’t be paired with Nick, that leaves me with Fitz.

  Fitz lands on this outcome a heartbeat after I do, and his lips pull back in an eager grin. He starts walking toward me when Sel intervenes.

  “I’ll take Briana. Fitz, you pair with Sydney. Nicholas, you’ll stay in the Lodge behind the wards.”

  The murmuring behind us goes silent. Nick looks like he’s just eaten an icicle. “Everyone else has a Scion or Squire.”

  Sel tucks his hands in his pockets and strides through the grass, holding me still with his electric stare. Tiny pinpricks across my cheeks. “You heard me. I’ll keep track of Briana.” Fr
om this distance I can see he’s swapped his pea-shaped black earplugs for silver ones. He speaks to Nick without releasing me from his gaze. “The three skills and abilities tested by the Trials are fixed, but the format of those trials is left up to the chapter leadership in place during the tournament.” He shrugs and the gesture speaks for him. “And I’ve changed my mind.”

  It only takes two steps for Nick to reach Sel’s side. He towers over the sorcerer by several inches. “Well, I don’t agree.”

  Sel turns slowly, deliberately to Nick. “You haven’t taken up Excalibur yet, Davis, and your father named me the current leader. Further, as your Kingsmage, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe.” His low voice carries to the rest of the group in the quiet, reaching every ear over the rhythmic trill of crickets. I catch a faint gust of cinnamon and whiskey between the scents of night-blooming jasmine and crushed grass. “Until that sword is in your hands, you will stand down.”

  Nick’s face is unreadable, his eyes a deep, cold blue. He stalks back into the Lodge without another word.

  Sel tilts his gaze to the sky. He tracks the moon for a few seconds, then quickly scans the sky and stars around it. His eyes drop to the group.

  “It is now one thirty a.m. You have three hours.”

  * * *

  There are forty objects on the list, but any relief I feel disappears when I read the first three clues and see how they’re written.

  Eighty-eight keys and not a lock in sight.

  Microfiche, carrels, stacks abound, and yet on this floor, there’s not a book to be found.

  “Riddles?” I exclaim.

  Sel’s lips quirk as we walk toward campus through the Battle Park forest. A handful of pairs have run ahead, but the rest, like me, are reviewing the clues before they dash off.

  I point to one of the clues farther down with the light of my phone. “ ‘Silver and red, white and yellow, find me flashing where the stoners mellow’?! How am I supposed to know where ‘the stoners mellow’?”