Page 63 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘I don’t think I can,’ Gabriel said, his gaze hoveringsomewhere in the vicinity of Arthur’s shoes. It was far more encouraging a response than Arthur had been expecting.

‘You did before.’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t … premeditated,’ Gabriel said. He looked up and seemed unable to stop himself from glancing at Arthur’s lips, which were now quirking upwards into a smile.

‘Well, it was a kiss,’ he said, staying exactly where he was. ‘Not a violent crime.’

Gabriel opened his mouth like he meant to laugh, but no sound came out.

‘Do you need me to talk you through it?’ Arthur said, half joking – but Gabriel looked so genuinely at sea that he followed it up with, ‘Put your hand on my shoulder.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can flip you like a wrestler,’ Arthur said. ‘Why do you think?’ Gabriel looked wary, but approached anyway, looking as if every sensible bone in his body was telling him to jump out of the window instead.

‘I have thought about you,’ he said, in barely more than a whisper. ‘Not … just this summer.’ He reached out a slightly shaking hand and put it on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur thought it was probably the bravest thing he’d ever seen Gabriel do.

It had the desired effect. As soon as they were touching it felt natural for Arthur to lean into him, to let Gabriel’s face blur out of focus as he half closed his eyes; he waited for so long that he thought he might need to open them again to give further instruction, but then he felt warm breath ghost across his lips. There was another pause. He gave animpatient little huff before bridging the last couple of inches between them to solve the problem himself.

He half expected Gabriel to pull away when he put an arm to his waist to press him closer, so that they could kiss without leaning across a ridiculous expanse, but he didn’t; he just kissed him back. It was gentle and uncertain at first, but then he seemed to relax into it, sighing into Arthur’s mouth in a way that made his nerves sing. It sounded likereliefmore than anything – the sound of somebody finally at rest after a too-long day – and Arthur was amazed that kissing could feel like that, like both a blessing and a comfort, instead of like the inevitable meeting of two people who were reaching desperately for something they couldn’t quite grasp.

Gabriel’s hand skittered down Arthur’s arm, as if it didn’t have permission to land anywhere but desperately wanted to, eventually deciding on Arthur’s wrist; Arthur felt Gwen’s bandage give up the ghost and flutter away to the floor, felt the sting and shivered as Gabriel inadvertently ran his thumb over the fresh wound there, but he didn’t flinch away. It occurred to Arthur as he tentatively lifted his hand to find the fine curls at the nape of Gabriel’s neck that this was the second royal sibling he’d kissed in one evening. It was potentially the sort of thing that might need declaring.

‘In the interest of full disclosure,’ he said, breaking away but leaving his hands where they were, ‘I actually kissed your sister tonight. About ten minutes ago, actually.’

‘You –what?’ Gabriel looked pink and breathless and absolutely baffled. Arthur was reaching for an explanationthat didn’t make it sound ten times worse when they heard a shout in the corridor outside, followed by the clang of something heavy hitting the ground at speed.

‘What in the hell … ?’ Arthur turned to the door, his heart pounding. He still had one hand on Gabriel, and some part of his brain registered that if there was any danger it would almost certainly be heading in their direction. The next second he was pushing Gabriel towards his bedroom.

‘What are you doing?’ Gabriel said, flustered and struggling to keep his balance as Arthur bundled him in – floor-to-ceiling books, just as he’d predicted – and then left him there, rushing back to the main door. He listened for a second, glancing back at Gabriel’s red and very confused face, before wrenching it open.

‘Shit,’ he said loudly before he could stop himself, a hand flying to his mouth.

Lady Bridget Leclair was standing in the corridor, sword raised, shoulders heaving. On the floor at her feet lay a man who seemed to have recently been clutching a dagger. He had dropped it, largely due to the fact that he was dead.

Arthur considered his options, and then, with one hand braced against the door frame, bent at the waist and vomited.

Gwen was roused from her bed by guards bursting through the door; once they had ascertained that there was nobody imminently threatening to harm her, she was marched into her father’s private solar and told to wait. The longer she sat there, running her fingers over the notches and whorls of the table over and over again, the more convinced she was that something terrible must have happened tosomemember of her family to warrant all the panic.

After what felt like an age, Gabriel walked into the room – closely followed, for reasons unfathomable, by both ArthurandBridget.

‘What’s happened?’ Gwen said, immediately getting to her feet. ‘Where’s Father? Is thatblood?’

‘He’s fine,’ Gabriel said, sounding very weary. ‘So’s Mother. They told me – he’s talking to Sir Hurst right now.’ Sir Hurst was her father’s Captain of the Guard, which surely indicated that either all was lost or everything was in hand. Arthur pulled up a chair opposite Gwen and sat down in it, rubbing circles into his temples and looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else. Gabriel and Bridget didn’t move.

‘Sit down,’ Arthur and Gwen said at exactly the sametime; under different circumstances Gwen might have laughed, but she was still thrumming from head to toe with spiky, nervous energy.

‘Whathappened?’ Gwen said again, as Gabriel took a seat.

To her surprise, it was Bridget who spoke.

‘I was coming to your chambers to bring you something,’ Bridget said from where she was still standing by the door. Arthur, whose eyes had been closed, immediately snorted with laughter. Gwen gave him a long, incredulous look, and he bit his lip – and then snorted again.

‘I think it’s the shock,’ Gabriel said, looking at Arthur with no small amount of horror.

Arthur pressed a hand to his mouth and made a muffled squeaking noise, but appeared to be attempting to compose himself.

‘I noticed something further down the hall,’ Bridget said, ignoring Arthur. ‘It turned out to be a man, with a knife. He attacked me, so I – intervened.’