Tracy Deonn’s #1 New York Times bestselling Legendborn Cycle continues in the sensational third book about a dazzling contemporary fantasy world that blends Southern Black Girl Magic with secret societies and the legend of King Arthur! Severed from the Legendborn. Oathbound to a monster. Bree Matthews is alone. She exiled herself from the Legendborn Order, cut her ancestral connections, and turned away from the friends who can’t understand the impossible cost of her powers. This is the only way to keep herself—and those she loves—safe. But Bree’s decision has come with a terrible price: an unbreakable bargain with the Shadow King himself, a shapeshifter who can move between humanity, the demon underworld, and the Legendborn secret society. In exchange for training to wield her unprecedented abilities, Bree has put her future in the Shadow King’s hands—and unwittingly bound herself to do his bidding as his new protégé. Meanwhile, the other Scions must face war while their Round Table is fractured, leaderless, and missing its Kingsmage, as Selwyn has also disappeared. When Nick invokes an ancient law that requires the High Council of Regents to grant him an audience, the Order’s Merlins imprison him. No one knows what he will demand of the Regents…or what secrets he has kept hidden from the Table. As a string of mysterious kidnappings escalates and Merlins are found dead, it becomes clear that no matter how hard Bree runs from who she is, the past will always find her. Tracy Deonn is the #1 New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of The Legendborn Cycle. After earning her master’s degree in communication and performance studies, Tracy worked in live theater, video game production, and K–12 education. When she’s not writing, Tracy reads comics and fanfic, dreams up new magic systems, and keeps an eye out for ginger-flavored everything. She can be found online at @TracyDeonn and TracyDeonn.com. Chapter 1 1 SIX SECONDS AFTER BRIANA MATTHEWS DISAPPEARED William SOMETIMES “TOO LATE” is a matter of seconds. By the time I arrive at the top of the hill, heart pounding and breathless, Bree and the stranger are nowhere to be seen—and Nick stands alone. While I am winded from our sprint, chest rising and falling with every full breath, he is deadly still. His gauntlet-clad forearm and bare palm remain outstretched in the empty air, frozen in his attempt to grasp Bree before she disappeared. Before us, the woods ahead are empty. Tall oaks stand sentinel while short shrubs sway in the breeze. Even the ground is undisturbed, without a trail to follow. Too late. A matter of seconds . My panted question breaks the silence. “Where… did they go?” Nick does not answer. It had all happened so quickly: Sel, in his anger and frustration, had been breaking furniture in his room all morning, so when it went eerily silent, Larkin, Nick, and I rushed inside—and found him gone. Disappeared from within his locked, warded, and guarded room. Panicked, we looked for Bree next. When we found her beside a strange figure at the top of the hill at Northern, Nick and I were standing shoulder to shoulder. We ran to her together, but he outpaced me quickly, faster as a Scion of Lancelot than I could ever be as a Scion of Gawain, calling aether to his body as he moved. In a single heartbeat, silver-blue magic surrounded him. In two heartbeats, crystalline armor had snapped into place, shining and ready for battle, at his legs, across his torso, down his arms. It was an impressive feat—only Merlins can call and forge aether that effectively while so preoccupied. But it was too late. By seconds. “Where did they go, Nick?” Again, Nick does not respond. It is only then that I notice he is not looking in the forest as I am. Instead, his eyes are trained on the wisp of black smoke writhing between his fingertips like a thin, dark snake. That wisp is aether. Black aether. Aether can be many colors. Silver-blue, green, gold, Bree’s own crimson. Aether is never, ever black. And yet this aether moves like a shadow come to life. Like the air itself has been cursed. We watch together as the wind catches the strands, spinning them upward until they dissipate. Fear for Bree courses through me so wholly that I feel my breath shake with it. She’s suffered so much, but she has always had people with her. She had us. Now she’s alone. When Nick releases his hand to his side, he does not acknowledge my presence. Does not meet my eyes. My healer’s attention immediately shifts from concern for Bree and Sel to the Scion in front of me. I swallow my fear and draw on the calm I reserve for moments like this. “Nick. Hey, look at me.” I wave my hand before him, but his blue eyes are unseeing, unblinking. Awake but unresponsive. Catatonia? My fingers itch for a penlight to check his pupils. Nick’s aether armor shudders once, like an image losing focus and then regaining it, but it does not dissolv