Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
GWENNA
Later, I wait for Morgan outside her Italian seminar so I can ambush her with the debrief.
“So it all jibes, is what you’re saying.
” Morgan’s breath hangs in the air before her as we cut across campus, my escort—Lanz—a few feet behind us, the light purple and pink across the bricks of the path.
“There’s a direct line from the Grail legends about healing the wasteland and whatnot to these mystical, powerful, occasionally cup-bearing women, and there’s tons of Christian theology to back it up. ”
“Not tons,” 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 way that is true is if it’s frozen over. Kingston changed 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 named Steve or Brent.
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 wanted me to make you fall 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, especially for 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 one now is ethical?”
“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 my own mess.
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 to aww. “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?”