Page 69 of The Black Table
This is Camlann House.
I pictured something nice. Premium quarters for the star athletes. But this—this is like a mansion and…
…and I shouldn’t be here.
Carefully—gingerly, on my ankle—I pick my way to the stairs, the half staircase down to the main landing, and then the grandsweep down to the hall, the whole thing like I’m walking to dinner on the Titanic. I look left and right: a study room to the left with bookshelves and armchairs, and more of a living space on the other side, a couch and a massive fireplace almost big enough to stand in, with a coat of arms standing guard atop it. Swords crossed, purple shield, Latin motto.
“Well, hello there, sleeping beauty.”
I jump nearly a foot in the air at the sound of the voice. It’s low, rough, masculine, and familiar. Kai.
“I, um, hi,” I say quickly. “I don’t—” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know how to explain this.
Kai, for his part, seems equally perplexed but unbothered. He looks me up and down at the T-shirt, the sweatpants.
“You joining the squad or something?” he says, smiling. “Because I hate to tell you, but fencing’s single-sex here at Caliburn.”
I look down at the T-shirt that does in fact sayCaliburn University Fencing.
“No, I just…”
I press a hand to my forehead, take a wobbling step back.
Because I’m wearing short sleeves. On top of everything else. I might as well be naked.
“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Kai says, and crosses the hall to steady me.
If he noticed the burn scars, he hasn’t shown it. But how could he not? I pull away from his hands like a reflex.
“My bad.” He goes palms-up. Cocks a look at me. “Hungover?”
“Something like that.” My head is pounding in time with my ankle.
“I’ve got just the thing.” He gestures for me to follow, takes a step.
I hover a moment, uncertain.
“Coffee,” he explains.
Fuck me, I think. It had to be coffee. The one substance that could get me to stay.
I’m sold.
Limping, I follow Kai through the living room to a back arch door that leads to a kitchen. More huge windows. A giant stainless steel fridge. A massive island with stools. And pantry cabinets that are, when he opens them, perfectly organized.
“You can sit,” he says over his shoulder. “You won’t get arrested.”
“What about you?”
Kai snorts as he pulls down a mug and fills it from a coffee pot that’s tucked in the corner.
“Be the least of my problems right now.”
He hands it to me.
“Technically no girls allowed,” he says. “But I think we can make an exception for almost dying.”
“Almost…” I trail off, my single sip of coffee going ashy in my mouth. “What?”
