Royally Not Ready(15)
“Whoa, Lilly, it’s Keller.”
Keller?
I pause my jabbing and stand tall. I reach under the lamp shade and switch it on, illuminating the dark room. And sure enough, Keller is standing in my room in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. If my heart wasn’t about to beat out of my chest, I would actually appreciate his loungewear, but I’m hanging on by a thread at the moment.
“Keller,” I breathe out. “What . . . what the hell are you doing?”
“I heard a weird . . . squealing and thought I’d check on you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. “That’s being kind, but correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not sure you’re a kind man toward me.”
“It’s not that I’m not kind, it’s just that you irritate me.”
“You know, if I wasn’t so fucking terrified right now, I’d have a witty response, but I’m afraid to say it, this Hagrid place is spooky as shit.”
“Harrogate.”
“Whatever.” I set the lamp back on the night table and sit on the edge of my bed. “My nerves are absolutely fried. What the hell is that tapping sound?”
“What tapping—oh, I was drumming my finger on my night table. Is that what you were hearing?”
My nostrils flare in aggravation. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell are you doing, tapping your nightstand at night? Sending a morse code to the ghosts to freak me the hell out?”
“There aren’t ghosts in here.”
“BAH!” I say loudly. “If you truly believe the haunted aren’t living in these stone walls, then you are suffering from a severe case of the delusions.” I jab my finger into my bed. “This place is crawling in spooks.”
“You’re playing tricks on yourself.”
“Don’t you tell me what I’m thinking. I can smell a ghost from a mile away, and they’re standing in this room, laughing at us as we speak.” I toss my arms up in the air. “Laugh all you want. You don’t scare me.”
I think we all know that’s a giant lie. I’m surprised I didn’t piddle the bed.
“Seems like you were scared.”
I flash my disdain at Keller. “Is there a reason why you were tapping on your nightstand?”
“My pen was drying up.”
“Your pen? What, are you writing in your diary or something?” I laugh but he just nods.
“Yes, I was.”
“Wait. You have a diary?”
“More of a journal, but, yes. It’s my responsibility to record history, just like every other private secretary before me.”
Huh, well, I guess that makes sense.
“So . . . did you happen to mention me in your journal?”
“Yes.”
“Can I read it?”
“No.”
“But it’s about me.”
“It’s still my private thoughts.”
“Uh, it’s not private if it’s for history.” Good one, Lilly. Got him there.
“I record everything, and then it’s my choice when I retire if I want to contribute them to the royal archive. It’s not a requirement.”
“Well, still, I’d like to know your thoughts on me.”
“You really don’t,” he answers.
Tilting my head to the side, I say, “You know, you seem to have an attitude problem. Are you aware? It’s very surly, unpleasant, and—”
“Need I remind you whose jacket you borrowed this afternoon?”
“Eh—well, that was yours—”
“And must I bring it to your attention who had Lara pick up clothes for you so you’re comfortable while staying here?”
“Yes, that was in fact you, but—”
“And despite wanting to go to sleep, I came in here to check on you because it seemed like you were scared.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Yes, that was all you, but, you know . . . it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer in conversation.”
“It’s not my job to be nice in conversation. It’s my job to protect you.” He takes a step back toward our slightly ajar pocket doors—shutting them has been a severe, unwanted burden, so we decided to leave them as is. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need it tomorrow.”
“Why? What’s tomorrow?”
“Good night, Lilly.”
“Wait, I have questions. Can you just explain to me what the hell is going on?”
But he keeps moving into his bedroom.
“You realize I can still talk to you, even though there’s an archaic bathroom between us with pipes that jiggle when you turn on the water. I know you can hear me.” I stare into the dark abyss that is his bedroom. “Hello . . .” I pause. “Did a ghost get you? Are you a ghost? Is this some alternate reality I’ve flown into when I got on the plane? Why does it have to be so cold during summer? Are your nipples hard? Mine are. Hello . . . Keller?”
Urgh.
I flop back on my bed and slide under the bedding.
Get some sleep. Sure, easier said than done.
“Miss Campbell, it’s, uh, it’s time to wake up,” Lara says, patting my bed.