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Even now the Order believes Erebus to be their highest-ranked, most loyal Merlin soldier. Only he and I know the truth—that he is the Order’s greatest enemy. And only we know that I, the Order’s own Crown Scion and king, have left the Round Table to become his pupil.
“If Nicholas Davis had touched you, he would not have let you go.” Erebus’s lips purse. “He will be a nuisance enough as it is.”
“Two demands, and only one fulfilled. You owe me, Briana.” His smile spreads. “We are as good as Oathbound, you and I.”
“Greedy men collect what they cannot understand, and weak men destroy what they cannot control. A man who is both will attempt to recreate that which is beyond his comprehension, obliterating the original in the process.”
“I will build you into a girl whom no one can destroy. You won’t need a weapon. You’ll become one.”
“To answer your question, I will not pursue Bree, because even if she is with an enemy, I know that she will survive—which is a far better fate than what awaits her here.”
“Briana Matthews cannot be the only voice that speaks against you.” Nick’s face turns derisive. A bright fury, rising beneath his skin. “Not when she bears our burdens for us and goes so unprotected. Not when you erase her humanity to guard your own power and protect your own whiteness.”
“Because,” I murmur, “once you lose everyone… fear loses its advantage.”
When I finally whisper, “And if I want to burn it all to the ground?” His answer is a quick grin against my lips. “My blade is yours.”
“But someone once told me that while we know ourselves best, we don’t always know what we’re capable of doing or becoming. And I think that’s a pretty nice way to look at it.”
“Loving other people and losing them hurts. And loving them when they’re gone? Opens up the wound again. Now, I’m no expert, but I think the only way to live with grief is to seek its antidote.
Loving folks is a practice, baby.”
“But here we stand and here we are. A king, a knight… and a prince.” Sel’s smile spreads slow across his face, like thick blood flowing from a wound. “What… shall… we… do?”
