Revelation (Trinity Book 1)

Chapter 1

Rose dropped her suitcase to the floor, where it landed against the age-worn wood with a dull thud. Sweeping her fringe out of her eyes with a practiced hand, she stepped over to the window and pushed it open, looking out across the sloping lawn to the River Cam. A cool breeze flowed in, bringing with it the heady scent of cut grass.

She turned back to survey the dorm room.

It was certainly big enough. The vaulted ceiling of the neo-gothic building made the room feel bright and airy. The walls, dotted with Blu-Tack from hastily removed posters, were painted pale green.

Rose trailed fingers along the simple bed frame, the nightstand, the large wooden wardrobe that had seen better days. An empty fireplace, its iron mantle once the proud centrepiece of the room, was set into one wall, next to a small desk, pockmarked with dents and absent-minded doodles. A threadbare armchair, its olive green corduroy greying with age, basked beneath the large, paned window like an oversized cat. A sink had been squeezed unobtrusively into the corner.

A few finishing touches, Rose mused, and she could easily call it home.

She nodded to herself in satisfaction and crossed the floor, to where an enormous cardboard box propped open the heavy fire door. Ignoring the noise of the other freshers roaming the hallway, she dragged it into the middle of the room and, as the door swung shut, opened it up and got to work.

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"Knock, knock." A resonant voice called through the door as Rose finished spreading a quilt across the bed. "I request an audience with Miss Davies. Newest – and no doubt brightest – student of Cambridge University. Following in the footsteps of the late greats Lord Byron, Alfred Tennyson and not to mention –"

"It's open Ben," Rose called. It pushed open, revealing her oldest friend propped against the door frame. He scowled in mock annoyance at being interrupted before crossing the room to flop into the armchair, long legs tumbled over its wing-back arm.

"I'll get it –don't trouble yourself." Rose got up to shut the door behind him, grinning as he huffed. "You can't have unpacked yet?" she asked, returning to her seat on the floor.

Ben shrugged, his sharp, almond shaped eyes roaming the room. "Nice digs," he commented, surveying her attempts at finishing touches.

Rose had strung fairy lights across the mantle of the fireplace, and they trailed down to brush the faded oak floor, giving off a gentle glow that lit up the multitude of dog-eared books she'd stacked into the empty hollow. Her brand new laptop sat in pride of place on the desk, alongside a little pink and white orchid – the only plant she had managed to keep alive longer than a few weeks.

"Bigger than mine," Ben accused with a sniff.

Rose reached into the box, drawing out a tangle of wires that she proceeded to sort through. "Which room are you in?" She reached over to tug on the arm lolling over the chair, indicating that he could help any time he wanted.

He slithered to the floor, folding his long legs beneath him as he reached for the cables, pushing a stray wisp of dark brown hair from his face. Rose still caught the exasperated smile as he considered the quantity of fairy lights that still occupied the box.

"Thirty-six. Upstairs." He waved a couple of long fingers vaguely. "No high ceiling. Same view, though," he added, glancing out the window.

Rose reached behind the nightstand, having rescued her mobile charger from the tangle. "Show me later?" she asked, struggling to get the plug into the socket.