Page 38 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘There’s no way to live up to the chivalric ideal,’ Arthur scoffed. ‘There are only three ways to attempt it – die on a religious quest, die for your true love, or die in battle. Regardless, you never get out of it alive.’

Gabriel looked up at Arthur, his thumb still pressed to his cheek. ‘When I was ten I thought about running away,’ he said, so quietly Arthur had to lean forward to listen.

Arthur nodded slowly. ‘Yes … I know. Because – don’t you remember what you said to me, that summer? Things were going so terribly between your sister and me, and you had barely spoken a word to me for years, always shutting up like a clam when I was around, but then you came up to me one day in the courtyard and …’

‘Asked if you’d like to be king instead,’ Gabriel said,looking stricken. ‘I remember. I didn’t think … well, I hopedyoudidn’t. Remember, I mean. I had finally told Father how I felt, that it was all too much for me and I didn’t want it, and he said … he said I had to be the king the people needed, even if it wasn’t the man I wanted to be. I was so desperate for a way out, and hearing that … it felt like watching a door close, and knowing it’d never open for me again.’

‘Ouch,’ said Arthur. He tapped his fingers on the table, considering. ‘You know … fathers aren’t always right just by virtue of being fathers. Or even … just by virtue of being king.’

Gabriel didn’t reply – he just took another book from the pile, opened it gently and began to read.

As much as Agnes had protested that the event wasn’t a party, therewasa sort of makeshift bar at one end of the cultist cellar, stocked with enormous cauldrons of a mysterious beverage that tasted strongly of liquorice and peppermint. Gwen and Agnes backed themselves into a wall to drink, entirely anonymous in all the hubbub.

‘How did you find out about this?’ Gwen asked. ‘And why is it secret? Surely everybody knows that my father encourages freedom of beliefs by now. Doing it covertly just makes it seem … suspect.’

Agnes looked suspiciously as if she were wishing that Gwen had decided to leave with the others.

‘From another lady-in-waiting,’ she said miserably. ‘I was meant to meet her. And – I suppose it’s all part of the fun.’

Despite the fact that Gwen had never voluntarily sought out Agnes’s company, her obvious disappointment stung. Just moments ago Gwen had felt like one of the gang, sneaking around the castle grounds together in the dead of night – but suddenly things were right back to how they always were. ‘Well. Don’t let me hold you back.’

‘I can’t leave you alone,’ Agnes said, wide-eyed and a little too hopeful.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Gwen said stiffly. She didn’t actually want Agnes to abandon her, but it was better than feeling as if her presence were being suffered. ‘Nobody here knows who I am – I’m quite safe. Go.’

‘Well,’ Agnes said, having the good manners to look briefly torn. ‘If you insist.’ She was off across the room looking for her friends a moment later. Gwen stood clutching her cup, catching snatches of conversation and laughter all around her, focusing solely on finishing her drink. Once it was done, she pulled her hood more securely around her face and went to refill it; she only managed to take two steps back towards the cauldrons before she felt a hand on her arm, insistent fingers pressing into the jut of her elbow.

‘Could you not find them?’ Gwen said, expecting Agnes – but when she turned, she almost dropped her empty cup.

‘What,’ said Lady Leclair, ‘are youdoing?’

‘Um,’ said Gwen, hearing her voice jump almost a full octave. ‘Getting a drink?’

‘No,’ Bridget said, ‘I mean, what areyoudoinghere?’ She gently steered Gwen back into a dark corner. She was wearing an inky-blue formal jacket, her hair pulled half up and secured with an ornate hairpin that was easily the grandest thing Gwen had ever seen her wear. ‘Your cloak isn’t quite the disguise you think it is. I’d call youyour highness,’ Bridget continued in a low voice, ‘but I’m not sure that would be wise.’

‘I’m here with – well, what areyoudoing here?’ Gwen said. Or, squeaked.

‘I’m here with friends,’ Bridget said. Gwen felt immediately envious of these friends, whoever they were. Somehow, she hadn’t pictured Bridget having any at Camelot, but of course she did – whowouldn’twant to be friends with her? ‘You didn’t …’ Bridget started to say, but she broke off, looking uncomfortable.

‘Didn’t what?’ said Gwen.

‘You didn’t follow me here, did you?’

Gwen gaped at her. ‘Follow you?’ she said. ‘What? I wouldn’t – how would I even—’

‘All right,’ Bridget said, holding a hand up. ‘My apologies.’

‘Why would you even think of that?’

‘Uh,’ Bridget said, glancing around the room before answering. ‘I thought I’d noticed … Well, I’m just surprised to see you here. And – to be honest, it’s not like it would have been the first time somebody’s done it.’

‘People just … follow you around?’ Gwen said incredulously.

‘Girls … follow me around,’ Bridget said. ‘Not often, but. It happens. Tournaments make minor celebrities of those who take part, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’

‘Right,’ Gwen said stiffly. ‘Well. I’m sorry to have given you that impression, I thought we were just … Actually, I did want to tell you something, but I certainly wouldn’t havefollowedyou anywhere to say it—’

‘What did you want to tell me?’ Bridget said, cutting cleanly through what Gwen was sure would have been quite an extensive bluster.