Legendborn: Chapters 41–58

Just focusing on school stuff. I got a C minus on that English test, so it’s clearly warranted.

I don’t have homeostasis. I don’t have equilibrium, no matter the stimuli.

I half expect to hear the heavy clink of a dropped tool on concrete and the high-pitched whirr-whine of a pneumatic wrench, but there’s nothing like that.

The silence is interminable. The kind that makes everything said afterward a thousand times louder.

I recognize the worn, cracked brown leather and the gilded golden edges immediately.

“You need a ride?” Mariah asks.
I nod as emphatically as I dare.

She drops down to where my knees are hidden beneath the long, floor-length layers of tulle and pulls the material out until it fans around my feet.

The jazz band onstage, called “The Old North Greats” according to the logo on their drum, is playing an upbeat swing rendition of a popular song.

While the A-line skirt is simple and elegant, flowing down from my waist in layers of champagne tulle, the halter bodice is an explosion of red and gold.

Vines of lace and appliqué flowers climb up from my hips, flow across my chest and ribs, and gather together into a collar at my throat.

“And you,” I say, “look like a newly recruited secret agent.”
“Oh yeah?” He spreads his arms wide and looks down at his ensemble.

The acrid, cloying smell of his signature collects in the back of my throat like bile.

His light brows turn down in thoughtful consternation, like he’s making a decision that he isn’t sure about.

If Sel's attention feels like sparks or embers, Isaac’s is a sweltering late July heat.

“You do. Even though you’re distraught.”
“I’m not distraught.”

He’s in a dark black suit with a deep gold regalia sash that drapes over both shoulders and comes to a point in the center of his chest.

Applause from the crowd rises to meet his fervor, and the Tristans pump their fists.

His tux is a deep green with near-black aubergine lapels, and tailored to perfection.

By all accounts, their son, Moriaen, grew up to be a formidable fighter—tall, strong, skilled in battle.

In the old days, Vassals served us in exchange for protection. Now, CEOs and politicians expect Lieges to follow their whims, give them what they want.

I’d hoped to create the threat of Camlann through the sheer numbers of Shadowborn crossin’ and the loss of Onceborn life, as you might infer from the tenets of our mission. ‘Protect the Onceborns from the scourge.’

My teeth grind together at his flippant response to Sel's pain. The disregard for the child he raised.

In the center of the pallet rests a large piece of paper covered in topographic lines and color-coded circles and squares. A map of campus.

Felicity walks back into the room with Vaughn trailing sullenly behind her.

Fitz’s flashlight shows us the other wall, a series of massive jagged outcrops reaching toward us like giant molars with sharp edges.

A glittering, fanatical glee dark as the cave itself slides into his burning eyes.

Two glowing lions take on one hound, jaws clamped at its haunches and throat.

A woman with flaxen hair comes out the back door to meet him,
glancing behind her at every step.

"Traitor! You levy war against the crown, lure our enemies to innocent blood, and now you dare rally my knights against me!”

I fight against Arthur’s will, but he will not yield—not on this. He demands obeisance. Homage. And deference.

I fight against Arthur’s will, but he will not yield—not on this. He demands obeisance. Homage. And deference.

My lineages are bound together in inextricable, horrible truths, and there’s no untangling them from my destiny, whether I’m ready to face it or not.

Tor excuses herself just as Sarah walks in with a carafe of coffee and a tray of mugs.

“Is that what you’re calling chattel slavery? Three hundred years of accidents?”

Sel is adamant that we stand our ground against the Regents and start the search for Nick ourselves, but even he doesn’t sound so sure of our success without outside assistance; the Order’s network can cover more ground than we can, and they’re better equipped for a manhunt.

Sarah wants to wait for the Regents’ instructions, but Sel says they’ll waste time debriefing all of us about what happened here, me especially.

I didn’t realize I’d possessed the question until it had made itself known. For a fleeting moment, it makes me a little worried that the question didn’t come from me at all.

My gaze travels across his dark hawkish brows, the aquiline curve of his nose, and the inky-black hair that curls like feathers over his ears.

“But at the hospital,” I begin carefully, “your mother was lucid, focused. Mourning, but in complete control of her abilities.”

Each pound of my feet echoes in my joints like a blacksmith’s hammer, ringing loud into bones and ligament and sinew until the forest blurs past in a stream of moss greens and umber browns.