Page 45 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘Oh. Yes. There was some kind of incident in Ruthin last week,’ said Gabriel. ‘They’re meeting with the local guard now.’

‘What’s in Ruthin?’ Gwen said, as a page rushed out bearing heaped plates of food. Gabriel thanked him as Gwen reached for the grapefruit.

‘Maen Huail,’ said Gabriel. ‘It’s a stone block where Arthur Pendragon apparently beheaded one of his enemies. Cultists treat it as a sacred site.’

‘Lovely,’ said Gwen, through a sour mouthful of fruit. ‘So they … ?’

‘Attacked a church there,’ Gabriel said. ‘Apparently. Although they say the church attacked them. Nobody was injured beyond scrapes and bruises.’

‘Were you up late with Father, sorting it all out?’ said Gwen. Gabriel twitched, and then rubbed at the back of his neck. He looked almost guilty.

‘No,’ he said eventually.

‘But you were up late?’ Gwen pressed. ‘You lookwrecked.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ Gabriel said, attempting levity. ‘I went tothe library. And then I went to the mews, to check on that crow, and …’ He took a bite of bread, as if trying to put off the rest of his sentence for as long as possible. ‘Arthur … was there.’

‘Arthur came with you to look at a bird?’ Gwen said, both eyebrows raised. She distinctly remembered him renouncing all of birdkind when they were children.

‘Yes,’ Gabriel said miserably.

‘Well,’ said Gwen. ‘How was the crow?’

‘Fine. Much improved. Fine.’

‘So if you weren’t up late dealing with matters of state,’ Gwen said, ‘and if the crow is fine – fine twice over, in fact – what on earth is going on with you?’

‘Tired,’ said Gabriel, and Gwen snorted.

‘You’re not tired. I mean, youare, but you’re always tired. You’re … twitchy. What’s going on?’

Gabriel rubbed his eyes, and then ran a hand through his hair; his copper curls were mussed and sticking up at the back, as if he’d been fiddling with them quite a lot already this morning. ‘Why don’tyoutell me what’s going on?’ he said finally.

‘You can’t just repeat what I say back to me, that’s not—’

‘Gwendoline,’ Gabriel said, slow and serious. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?’

Gwen’s hands clenched around her grapefruit, which was quite an unpleasant tactile experience. The bottom had dropped out of her stomach, which was even worse. ‘Why? Did Arthur say something to you?’

‘This isn’t about Arthur,’ Gabriel said, although shenoticed that he was pink in the cheeks. ‘This is aboutyou. You don’t keep secrets from me. Or at least – you never have before.’

He was right. She had always trusted Gabriel with everything – not that there had been much to tell, but still – and it had been difficult not to talk about this; not just for the past few weeks, but for years, ever since she’d first seen Bridget tie up her hair and stretch out her arms and wondered why it was so thrilling. Usually she’d have muddled through the problem with him, but it had felt too invasive, like she was offering up her own organs to be examined. It hadn’t helped that when she was fifteen, Gwen had been foolish enough to ask her mother what it meant when a woman loved another woman; the queen had looked slightly alarmed, but then explained to Gwen that while some ladies experienced confusion brought on by close quarters and intimate friendships, it was always temporary, and nothing Gwen would ever need to worry about.

Of course, as Gwen’s feelings refused to stay temporary, her mother’s words had given her more to worry about than ever.

But Gabriel wasn’t her mother. Gabriel didn’t judge. Gabriel would understand.

Still, she felt seasick as she cleared her throat and began to speak. ‘When I told you that Arthur and I had made a deal,’ she said slowly, ‘it was … He knew something. He knew something about me. Or, he thought he did, and I told him he was wrong, but – he wasn’t wrong. He was right.’

‘Okay,’ Gabriel said, looking even more confused.

‘I’ve wanted … for a while, I’ve wanted something I don’t think I can have,’ Gwen pressed on, desperation creeping into her voice. ‘I mean, you must understand that – I know this isn’t the life you would have chosen for yourself.’

Gabriel took a deep breath in and out through his nose. This wasn’t going particularly well. Neither of them had actually ever said this out loud so plainly – had dared to voice that Gabriel really didn’t want the throne. It went unsaid because to say it felt tantamount to treason, although Gwen couldn’t tell who they were actually committing it against.

‘I’ve never said that,’ Gabriel said quietly, and Gwen leaned back in her chair and sighed.

‘No, I don’t – sorry. That’s not what I meant. Let me start again. I’m not really in love with Arthur.’