“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
He strides back to my bedside, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me again.
Different. Deeper.
Across the room, my last candle fizzles out.
FOURTEEN
GWENNA
The third dayis strangely calm.
I wake up what feels like late in the day, but with my phone long dead, there’s no way to tell.
With nowhere to go, nowhere tobe,I sit in the Camlann House living room and watch as, wordlessly, Kingston throws one log, then another, into the fireplace. He’s the only one up and around; Kai is still asleep, Lanz is nowhere to be seen, and Callahan appeared just briefly before slipping to the kitchen, muttering about trying to light the stove.
I shiver as Kingston strikes the match. From cold. From something else. I stare, unseeing, as the little blade of flame bites into the kindling and crumpled paper, fanning up and over until it’s enveloped the logs, picking away at the thick bark with fizzing pops of smoke.
Kingston watches a moment, then rises from his crouch. The bright gold of the fire is stark, and the hard edge of the shadows make his face look unusually serious. Grim, almost. I tuck my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself, and whenhe looks back at me, I see the same question in his golden-brown eyes that’s cutting into my mind.
What’s going on?
Before either of us can speak, there’s a knock at the door. I shift to get up, but Kingston signals me to stay put, and strides out to the foyer himself. I retreat, a brief spike of panic in my chest about who might be at the door until I hear Kingston’s voice.
“Professor,” he says. “I—please. Come in.”
There’s the stamping of boots and the click of the door, and I rise to see Dr. Emrys, swathed in an overcoat and looking nonplussed in the gold halo of some sort of oil lantern.
“Oh. Dr. Emrys. Hello.” I blink, feeling a bit stupid and self-conscious. Even though I know college professors are real people—you know, fellow adults with lives and routines outside the classroom—seeing one in a new context like this still feels as strange as seeing your first-grade teacher at the grocery store.
Even under these circumstances. Or perhapsespeciallyunder these circumstances.
“Ms. Vale.” He nods. “I thought I’d pay you a visit, if it’s not too presumptuous to arrive unannounced.”
“Of course not,” Kingston answers. “May I?” He gestures for the professor’s coat, and Emrys obliges as I move aside for him to come in properly, to the small but steady zone of warmth and light around the fireplace.
“You’ll just have to excuse us for not setting out a spread,” I joke, nervously weaving and unweaving my fingers in front of my waist. “Unless Cal’s figured out a way to boil water.”
Outside, the wind howls. Emrys waves a hand in the air as he settles on the couch.
“Perish the thought. I am amply content with nothing more than your company.” He looks from me to Kingston, who’sreturned from the hall and sunken into an armchair, hunched slightly, a hand to his fist.
“Something’s wrong.”
Emrys nods.
“Magic?” Kingston asks. “It has to be. Right?”
Emrys hesitates.
“This is far beyond the realm of mere spellcraft, I fear,” he says at last. “No hex could do this, certainly.”
“A ward?” Kingston asks. “There’s…one on Camlann House. I think.” He looks sheepish, like it’s not something meant to be discussed in polite company.
Emrys shakes his head. “No, no, a ward would be protective. Although interesting that your White Brothers would allow such a thing.”
“It’s protective,” Kingston mutters. “For us.” He looks back up. “A curse?”
