“No. Nothing. How would I know if they were Merlin or Morgaine?”
“You wouldn’t. We know they have the same abilities as Merlins, but when they stopped administering Oaths—” He stops short, starts again. “Without Oaths, the Order falls apart. Only a Merlin would be able to tell you whether that officer was a Morgaine or a Merlin, and even then they’d have to have been there. I’d say we could ask Sel, but—”
“He loathes me,” I mutter, and think of Vaughn. “Along with everyone else on Team Anti-Bree.”
Nick’s fingers flex around my arms. “Someone bothering you?”
I think about whether I can stomach sharing what happened at dinner with Nick right now. If I could process his response and mine, go there again so soon. In the end, I say, “Nothing I can’t handle. People think I’m gunning to be your Squire and, I guess, using my feminine wiles to try and convince you to select me.”
Silence again.
“Nick?”
“Sorry, my brain shut down at ‘feminine wiles.’ ”
“Nick!” I stop, which is a bad idea, because he runs right into me, and I can feel the press of him against my back, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He steps away after a second and I swat at where I think he is in the darkness—my hand hits air, hits air, then lands on his chest with a hard thwack. He’s still laughing, but he traps my fingers between his and, before I can say a word, drops a soft kiss on my knuckles.
That kiss steals my breath. I don’t think he even notices.
“First of all, are you saying you’re not gunning to be my Squire? Insulted. And second—nope, sorry, this hand is mine now—I hate that other Pages are targeting you because of me. And third, I don’t know what your feminine wiles are, but I’d be willing to assess them. To see if they could, indeed, seduce me enough to make me bond myself to you forever.”
I freeze with my hand on his chest, clasped between his fingers, while my mind stumbles and trips over all that he’s just uttered.
“Bree? I was just kid—”
“Do you… want me to try for your Squire?”
Nick squeezes my fingers and sighs. After a moment, his lips brush over my knuckles again, but this time his mouth lingers, moving against my skin as he speaks. “You need to decide that on your own.” And then he releases me. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse and low. “I’m gonna go check to see if they’re ready for the Pages at the trial site. Be right back.”
Then he’s gone through the brush, each rhythmic footstep like a heartbeat in my sensitive ears until they fade away entirely.
I’m standing there alone in the woods for five minutes, maybe more, rubbing my fingers over the places that Nick’s mouth touched, when I feel his eyes on my skin.
“I know you’re there.”
Sel’s coat flaps in the night air, but I don’t hear him land.
“Sense me, did you? Common trait of the Shadowborn to detect other aether users.” His deep, smooth voice bounces around me. On my left, my right, ahead. “Nicholas’s interest in you keeps you safe for now. However, you would do well to remember that getting closer to Nicholas also brings me closer to you. You’ll either slip and expose yourself, or I will expose you.”
I can smell his aether signature, whiskey sharp and a hint of burnt cinnamon that sends a shudder down my spine. He notices my response and chuckles from somewhere above me. I hate that I don’t know how long he’d been nearby. Did he watch me and Nick? Listen to our conversation? Suddenly, I’m furious. First the racist shit at the Lodge and now this Merlin bully?
Words escape me in an angry stream. “You keep threatening me, but in the end you don’t do jack. You can’t touch me because I’m your king’s Page, but you taunt me anyway because it makes you feel important. I can’t imagine the beating your ego’s taken, being ignored by the very Scion you swore your life to!”
Shocked silence. From both of us.
Then his voice is at my ear. “There it is. The self-righteous rage of demonkind. Pathetic.”
“Not as pathetic as you.”
“Mmm?”
I pause, just in case he tries to rush me or something, but he doesn’t. I can’t even tell if I’m still facing in the right direction. Undaunted, I keep going. “Let’s say you go over Nick’s head and report me to Lord Davis or the Regents. They’ll put me on one of your trials. Ask you for proof of whatever it is you think I am, and that’s the thing, Merlin. You have none.”
Silence. Then, “Is that so?”
“Yeah, that’s so.” I’m bold now, and running with it. “My dad had a dog like you once, when he was little. His family lived out in the sticks and that dog raised hell over cars driving down the road, howled at every stray cat. Made it a useless guard dog, so his father gave it away. If you run your uchel hunch up the chain without evidence, the Regents will question your ability to do your job. And that’s a risk you can’t afford. You don’t want to be that ole country dog, do you, Kingsmage?”
Silence. Then a low, slow laugh in the darkness.
“You have a silver tongue, mystery girl.” A pause. “I feel a sudden urge to tear it out.”
My pulse leaps in my throat.
“Lucky for you, I’m used to being baited.” A whoosh of air, and then his voice finds me from overhead. “Maybe another time.”
The moment he leaves, a fine tremor starts at my fingers. By the time Nick jogs back to me through the woods, both hands are shaking, my chest tight with fear.
“Okay, I think they’re ready for you in the arena.”
I nod, swallowing around a gigantic lump—and the tongue I’m still thankful to own.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
I give a wobbly smile. “Your Kingsmage stopped by for a little pre-game inspiration. He still thinks I’m a demon and threatened to out me, but this time I told him off. Now he wants to rip my tongue out of my head.”
Nick makes a frustrated sound. “That’s why I didn’t feel him.”
“You can feel Sel?”
“Lifelong perk of the Kingsmage Oath. He can feel when I’m in mortal danger, and I can feel his murderous intent. It’s how I knew he was close before he attacked you last night.”
I shiver, remembering the sensation of Sel gripping my ankle in the darkness. “Should I be relieved that you didn’t feel his desire to murder me?”
An awkward pause. “Yes…?”
“Wow.”
“Yep.” He takes my hand and tugs me forward.
“Wait, did you say arena?”
* * *
It’s abundantly clear that Sydney despises me. As soon as Tor paired us together, she’d shot me a glare searing enough to cause third-degree burns.
Sydney doesn’t seem to care much for Vaughn, so that’s not it. To her credit, she’d turned to me, point-blank, and told me exactly why she doesn’t like me: “I’m here to win this thing and I don’t trust anyone here.” Fair and direct. Can’t fault her.
Unfortunately for her, she’s going to have to trust me tonight. Because the only way either of us moves forward to the second trial is if we do it as a team.