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‘What the hell?’
That was weird. It was exactly what Helen was thinking, but it wasn’t her voice. That made no sense. Her thoughts. Her bed. It ought to be her voice.
‘Where am I?’
It happened again, but this time it wasn’t the first voice or her voice. Helen needed to open her eyes, and she would open her eyes, just as soon as she’d worked out how to unstick her eyelids.
‘What happened last night?’ That voice she recognised. That was Alex. Alex was her housemate, so they must be at home. If they were at home, things couldn’t be that bad. She opened one eye. They weren’t at home.
Helen forced herself to open the second eye. She was in bed. Not her bed, but a bed. She risked a tentative peer under the duvet. Still clothed. Sort of. Her dress had gone AWOL, but it turned out that historic costumes featured a lot of undergarments. She was still wearing more clothes than she’d happily leave the house wearing. That was fine.
She assessed the rest of the situation. Alex was lying next to her. She got a flicker of a memory from last night, and shut it straight down. Propping herself up on her elbows, she surveyed the room. The movement sent a shooting pain through her skull. There was a chaise longue in front of the window. Emily was lying on it under a blanket. Dominic was sitting up on the floor between the bed and the chaise, rubbing his face. He must have been the first voice. Dominic was wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts and there was chainmail and a sword piled up next to him. The sword – another flicker of memory.
‘I feel like death.’ That was Alex. Helen sat up, swallowing down a wave of nausea.
‘Are you gonna be sick?’
‘No. Just can’t move yet.’
She turned attention to Dominic. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Where am I?’
She waved an arm. ‘Room.’
‘Whose room?’
That was a good question. Helen tried to do remembering. She’d come up to her room after ... for some reason her brain didn’t want to dwell on what it was after, but she definitely came up to her room. Then Alex came too, and then they ordered punch. After that things were hazier. There was a table straight in front of her with an empty glass bowl on it. An empty punch bowl, she guessed. ‘I think it’s my room.’
Dominic groaned. ‘Why are we all in your room?’
Helen suspected the answer to that question might take a bit of processing.
On the chaise longue, Emily kicked one leg and flung an arm across her body, before sitting bolt upright. It was the fastest anyone had moved so far this morning. Watching her made Helen feel more nauseous. Emily yelped. ‘Where am I?’
Dominic reached up and took her hand. ‘At the hotel. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.’
Emily nodded. She looked around the room for a second before managing to pull a watch from amongst the debris of clothing and blankets around her. ‘TIME!’
‘What?’
‘The time! My dad’s supposed to be getting married in fifty-eight minutes.’
Panic competed briefly with hangover inside Helen’s head. Panic won. She shoved Alex’s arm. ‘Go get dressed. Washed and dressed.’
At the other side of the room, Dominic pulled his chainmail on over his T-shirt, and Emily crawled under the chaise longue. ‘I can’t find my shoe.’
She dragged the blanket off the floor and shook it, apparently hoping to magic footwear from its depths. ‘Sod it. I’ll come look for it later.’
‘Wait.’ That was Alex. ‘Aren’t we going to talk about last night?’
Helen glanced at the others. Emily was pouting heavily, looking away. Dominic stared straight back at her. He shook his head.
‘No.’ Helen swung her legs out of bed. ‘No time. Wedding first. Talking later. Much, much later.’
‘She’s right.’ Dominic nodded. ‘Let’s get the wedding out of the way.’
Emily followed him towards the door, holding her hand out to Dominic. Helen looked away.
That left Alex. Business-like was probably the best approach. ‘Right. Back to your room. Washed and dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.’
He was still sitting on the bed.
‘Alex!’