“Yes,” Morgan says, “because it was vanilla extract in one of those little fancy bottles I buy by the carton on Temu. Elena must have just won him over on…charm.” She wrinkles her nose on the last word. “But yes. Perfectly ethical use of the most powerful disruptor of reality there is.”
“Which is?”
“Belief.” Morgan shrugs. “Get someone to believe that things work a certain way—like really, truly, believe it—and they’ll do everything it takes to affirm that it’s so. Even if it kills them.”
I shiver.
“Hm.” I take a few crunching steps down the path.
In front of us, the path diverges. Cornubia Hall to the left, and Camlann House to the right. I slow my steps to a full stop.
“Um, Morgan?” I twist the toe of my boot in the slush. “I’m…” I glance at Lanz. “I’m going to go back to Camlann House. Like, for good.”
I feel truly and honestly bad. I love Morgan, I love her magic, I love her mess, I love staying up with her not-really doing homework, and I love that she seems to love me right back in all myownmess.
Morgan smiles. “Aww, Gwenna. I knew you would.”
“Really?”
“Yah. I already moved your stuff out.”
I spin around to Lanz, who nods. “Yeah. It’s all in your bedroom.”
Now it’s my turn toaww. “Morgan!” I throw my arms around her neck. “You’re the best roommate I’ve ever had,” I say into her dense puff of jacket fur.
“I’m the only roommate you’ve ever had,” Morgan corrects, extricating herself from my arms and straightening her earmuffs. “Except those four. But you know what I mean. Anyway, don’t be a stranger, okay?” She sparkles her fingers in a wave. “Good riddance!” she calls cheerfully.
The foyer of Camlann is warm and bright as I stamp out of my boots and unthread my scarf from my neck. Lanz hovers at the door.
“I’ve got…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even fucking remember. Some class. And then I’ve gotta pack. But?—”
“I’ve got her.” A voice comes from behind us—Kai, grinning. He looks at me. “Wanna see some sword tricks?”
THIRTY-FIVE
KAI
“See?”I give the epee another jab into her shoulder. “You’re safe.”
Gwenna looks down at herself. My jacket’s big on her—way big on her—but it’s not like I’m hitting her hard. And I have to say, having never put a girl in my fencing kit before?
It’s a good look.
Gwenna frowns. “It’s just fabric, though.”
“Yeah,ballistic nylon,” I say, giving her another easy tap with the tip. “800 Newtons of force resistance. Put on one of those things and you’re coming out without a scratch.”
She gives the jacket a skeptical look. “Not if you’re Kingston. Remember his arm?”
“What, Glassjaw Pendragon?” I wave a hand. “King’s like the princess and the pea. Easily bruised. Always has been. Point is, you’re not going todie.”
Gwenna nods, eyeing my blade.
“But youcouldkill someone with one of these,” she says, as I put on a little show for her with a weird parry 7-parry 9 move. “If you wanted to.”
“I could kill someone with a toothpick if I timed it right.” I reset to en garde. “But…yeah. Sure.” I straighten back up. “Peoplehavedied in fencing—modern fencing, I mean—but it’s less hack-someone-to-death and more a…stab them in the ribs and cause a pneumothorax. Suffocate them, essentially. But in that thing, you’re snug as a bug in a rug.” I shrug, then push the epee gently into her chest, right above her heart. “Trust me.”
“I see.” She chews her lip, then fiddles with the velcro at the neck. The zipper. Pulls it down—all the way down.
