“Nottons,” I admit. “It’s mostly women writers, so?—”
“—not the writers people like my stepbrother take seriously?” Morgan arches a brow. She’s wearing furry black earmuffs and a matching fur-trimmed coat, which, given the cold blast of wind that meets us, has me a little jealous.
“Not typically,” I agree. “But I think he’s…changed his mind.”
I press my lips together so I don’t smile.
I’m sorry it had to be you.
At that, Morgan looks around us in mock horror, clutching her chest. “Sorry—did I miss something? We must be in hell,because the only waythatis true is if it’s frozen over. Kingstonchanged his mind on something?”
“The textual evidence was compelling,” I say mildly.
Morgan snorts. “Okay. Sure.” She rolls her eyes, then seems to glimpse something ahead, because she clamps a hand around my elbow.
“Don’t look now,” she says, “but…six o’clock.”
“Huh?” I spin around, but behind us, I see only Lanz—who catches my eyes and blushes a little.
“No,” Morgan hisses, “six o’clock.” She nods forward with practically her whole body.
“I don’t think you understand how clocks work,” I say, but I follow where she’s nodding.
It’s Elena. White knit hat, bright red jacket, and—for once—without Claire. Because her arm is intertwined with…some guy. Tall, solidly built, unremarkably good looking, the kind of guy who might be namedSteveorBrent.I’m sure I’ve seen him in the dining hall or library at some point; who knows. What’s remarkable is that Elena’s laughing at something he said, it seems, her smile big and bright and…very genuinely happy, it seems.
As we pass, she glances at us, and I brace myself. But nothing comes.
“Hi Morgan.” The tiniest, millisecond-level pause. “Hi Gwenna.” She looks a few feet beyond us. “Hi Lanz.”
“Hi,” Morgan says, her mouth in a pointed smile.
“Hi,” Lanz says, extremely kindly.
But Elena—Elena Shallott who once threw a drink on me, almost left me to drown, and burned my dorm room to a crisp—just glides by, her mittened hand locked around the arm of her beau.Smiling.
“Oh!” She calls out as she passes. “Good luck in the final, Lanz!”
Lanz whips his head around, almost looking puzzled. “Thanks.”
“Will wonders never cease,” Morgan murmurs. But the elfin little smile on her face is still there.
“Morgan,” I say.
“Mm?” Morgan glances all around us, like she’s fascinated by the snowflakes dancing on the breeze.
“Morgan,” I repeat. “What did you do?”
“Oh, you know. Just a favor. Girl to girl.” She smirks at me. “Elena came by asking for a love potion—again. So I gave it to her.”
“A love potion?” Lanz says.
“Again?” I say.
Morgan stops in her tracks and looks at the two of us.
“Yes,” she says evenly. “Lanzelin, you oblivious golden retriever of a man, Elena wantedmeto makeyoufall in love with her. I made the mistake of blabbing to her at the first cap of the year and then she got all wounded and pouty when I said absolutely not, it’s unethical,especiallyfor you. It’s why,” Morgan sniffs, “I’ve never liked her.”
I crane my neck back at the distant shapes of Elena and Whatever-his-name-is. “But giving her onenowis ethical?”
