Page 16 of The Black Table
FOUR
LANZ
Camlann House isin a fucking state.
The door swings open to a foyer cluttered with gear and clothes, stacks of mail and papers overflowing the letterboxes, muddy boots cast in unmatched pairs and dirt ground into the Oriental runner.
But then again, nothing compared to the state of my head.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“Not here, I’m afraid,” comes a voice from the parlor. “But I can take a message.”
“Shove it, Kai.”
I drop my case by the door and kick off my own shoes in whatever direction as Kai cackles. I ignore him and flop onto one of the parlor couches, head on the armrest, hand covering my eyes. Even the oil portraits look disdainful.
“So Freudian,” Kai remarks from the other corner of the room. “Do you need me to analyze your psyche?”
I pull my hand away and stare at him. If things are a mess, then Kai is undoubtedly the cause.
“Does King know about this?” I say, sweeping an arm around to indicate the general…everything of it all.
Kai doesn’t look up from the paper he’s grading. “What Kingston doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
You have no idea, I think.
But just thinkingthatmakes my head swim even worse.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
I sink back into the couch and let the calm of the parlor wash over me, pressing one hand to my sternum as I feel the jittering of my pulse slowly, slowly start to quiet.
Does she know?
No. There’s no way. I mean, she doesn’t even knowme, or didn’t, until about an hour ago.
The odds of her justknowingthat I’m under a stupid, generations-old family curse…
But she did ask about your name, part of my mind reasons.Maybe shedoesknow.
Or maybe she was just curious because it’sa weird-ass name, another part retorts.You’re not the center of the universe,Lanzelin.
“He’s downstairs, by the way,” Kai goes on, answering my next question. “Drilling.”
“Mm.” I return my hand to my face, rub my temples. That’s no surprise. If Kingston’s not eating, sleeping, or in class, he’s drilling. Or conditioning. Doubly so after what happened on Wednesday.
Open exhibition, a bunch of teams from our league. Scrimmage against St. Ignaty’s Seminary.
Kingston lost.
“Did he remember it was just a practice match?” I ask rhetorically, still not opening my eyes.
Kai snorts. “He wants that Moroslav bastard skewered. I’d do it in two parries if he’d just fuckingletme.”
I open one eye. “Moroslav fights saber?”
Kai slams his book on the table. “Ifight foil.”
