SIXTEEN
GWENNA
When the fiveof us gather later that day, there’s only one place to meet. The one place in Camlann House I haven't been in months, the room I've only ever been in just one the time. I've been in all their bedrooms, and my own, obviously. The salle, the dining room, study, living room, even the wine cellar, just to see. But this—this I've avoided.
Until now.
Kingston sits at the head of the Black Table. Or no, not the head, I suppose, because there is none. It's round. Maybe that's the point. I cave my shoulders in a little, self-conscious, in spite of myself. It's hard not to be in a room like this. Tall and echoing and stone cold as a cathedral, but not set aside for reverence.It's a war room, I think idly.
“Something is very wrong,” Kingston says, matter of fact, and yet he sounds tired, even more so than he has since we got back.
“No shit,” Kai says. “You mean a bunch of biblical plagues aren't supposed to be descending like it's the book of fucking Exodus?”
I glance at the other two. Lanz, who looks better but not good, dark circles under his eyes, and Cal, whose jaw is set, his fist tight.
“We should have noticed earlier,” Cal says. “The snow, how it kept coming.”
“It's New England,” Lanz says tersely. “It's always freaking snowing here.”
“No, it isn't,” Cal counters. “We should have?—”
“We were preoccupied,” Kingston cuts in. “It doesn't matter. We are where we are.”
“It's Gwenna,” Kai interrupts. “Isn’t it?”
No. I want to shout it, want to scream, but I can't. I'm frozen. My throat stopped, like I physically couldn't speak if I tried.
Lanz looks up. “What?” he mouths.
“It has to be,” Kai says. “Doesn't it?” There's an almost desperate edge to his voice, but when he looks at me, his expression is anything but sharp. The concern in his eyes is…soft. Tender almost. “I mean,Ican't think of any other explanation. But if any of you?—”
“You’re right.” I hear myself say. Flat. “At least that’s what we think.”
Silence. Candles flicker.
“If we're right,” Kingston says, “ifGwennais right,” he corrects, “about what she is and how this all works, then she does have that power.” The word sounds awkward in his mouth. It feels strange to hear, too. “And if it's not… here, if she's not releasing it, then…”
“Releasing it?” Lanz cuts in, voice panicked. “King, you don't mean?—”
Kingston’s question from earlier resounds in my mind.
Will she have to die?
“No,” Kingston and Kai say at the same time.
“It's out of the question,” Kingston says, just as Kai says, “Absolutely fucking not.”
I don't know where to look. I settle on Cal, the one who's barely spoken, as usual.
“Shouldn't we…” he trails off, looks up, hesitant, as if he needs approval.
I nod at him. “Shouldn't we what, Cal?”
“Shouldn't we tell the Consistory? Won’t they know what to do?”
Kai sighs. “Yeah, about that. We're kind of in a…” He slides a glance at Kingston. “I may have told them a bit of a white lie when I was writing to them.”
“What?” Cal and Lanz say in unison.
