“I don’t have anything,” I blurt out.
Morgan presses her lips together.
“I…did take the liberty of having all your stuff brought over,” she says. “From Camlann House. I hope that’s okay.”
Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that. But…yes, I decide. It is okay. Definitely beats the alternative.
Except that’s not what I meant.
“I mean…” I chew my lip, hard. “I don’t have money. My mom?—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Morgan interjects.
“Ihaveto worry about it!”
My words ring out in the living room. Morgan freezes. My fingers are trembling on the mug.
“I have to,” I whisper. “I don’t…” I chew my lip even harder, bite it ’til it stings. “My mom...”
You think I wanted a lunatic for a daughter?
“She’s not going to like this,” I finish. It’s pathetic, little-girl feeble. I sniff, like I’m really about to cry. I swallow it down, swallow it all down, press my fingers into the warm ceramic surface to ground myself. “That I’m here again.”
Morgan stares at me. “Doyouwant to be here again?”
“I don’t exactly have anywhere else, do I?” I speak the words into the jittering surface of my tea, and immediately regret them.
This is Morgan. Who’s only ever been my friend. Well, excepting those first few days in the dorm together. But still. She doesn’t deserve my vitriol.
I look up, and Morgan reaches over to squeeze my knee.
“Gwenna, please,” she says. “Please, just…try not to worry. Luther will take care of it, okay? Now that he knows how crucial you are to this whole thing, and…”
“This whole thing?” I repeat. The ringing in my ears starts to come back. “Crucial?”
Why was Alexei Moroslav there today?
“I…fuck.” Morgan swears softly under her breath and gets to her feet. “Listen, Gwenna, I’m the wrong person to tell you all this. You should talk to someone. Emrys. When you’ve gotten some rest.”
“Emrys?” I echo. My Latin professor. MyformerLatin professor, I amend. So he’s all part of this too…somehow.
“Yeah,” Morgan says. She steps over to the coat rack, grabs a long pea coat and stuffs one arm into it. “He should know you’re back by now. Said he’ll be in his classroom tomorrow if you want to stop by, and he’ll explain what he can.”
Explain.The prospect is tantalizing and grounding all at once, and I’m just starting to feel the faintest glimmer of reassurance when I realize what Morgan’s doing.
Bundling up. By the door. Like she’s leaving.
Because sheisleaving.
“Wait.” I frown. “Wait. Where are you going?”
“I’m…” Now it’s Morgan’s turn to bite her lip. “Dammit.” She sighs. “I…have to go out.”
“Out?” I say, a little forlornly. “Now?”
I’m as much confused as I am hurt. She’s not dressed for a party—not even remotely. And it’s past midnight, easily. Far beyond even fashionably late.
She nods. “I wish it could wait, but…you know.”
