Page 65 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘A lone actor?’ said Gabriel. ‘So you don’t think this was something to do with what’s been happening in the north?’

Stafford grimaced sweatily. ‘Not on this occasion, no. Unfortunately people do things like this for all kinds of reasons.’

‘But I thought you were obsessed with the north,’ Gwen said, forgetting that this sort of thing was best said in private and earning herself a furious look from the steward.

‘Obsessed? Not at all. Not at all. I simply wish us to react appropriately to the situations at hand. In fact, just the other day I was telling his majesty – we need not paniceverytime somebody wanders north of Nottingham.’

‘You mean like Lord Willard?’

‘Yes,’ said Stafford. ‘Yes! Exactly. Visiting family, up in Skipton. His majesty is well aware of the concerns I have about cultist uprisings, but that does not mean that everything is part of some grand conspiracy.’

‘Well, we’ll soon know for certain. Sir Hurst is exploring all the options,’ said Gwen’s father. ‘He’s even asked the damn Wizard to come for questioning, not that it’ll help. I know Master Buchanan, and this isn’t of his doing, cultist or not. Just – don’t do anything foolish, either of you. Stay vigilant. Gabriel – get some rest, we’ll be convening the council early in the morning.’

‘Of course,’ said Gabriel. Gwen was itching to go after Bridget, but she could think of no excuse to rush from the room that wouldn’t seem very odd and downright dangerous if there was any chance that more assassins were roaming the halls.

The door opened yet again, and the grizzled, moustachioed Captain of the Guard entered. He was olive-skinned and very handsome for his age; he had the kind of face that people liked to ascribe to great knights and princes in their portraits, although right now it looked deeply troubled. ‘Your majesty. I can brief you now, if you’re ready.’

If it had in fact been a guard recently hired by Sir Hurst who had attempted a little late-night regicide, Gwen could only imagine how tense that briefing was going to be.

‘Stay together tonight,’ said the queen, reaching over to touch Gwen’s shoulder. ‘We’ll post extra guards right outside the door.’

‘Guards wetrust,’ said the king. ‘We won’t make the samemistake twice.’ He got to his feet, nodding to Sir Hurst. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

‘Be safe,’ their mother said to Gabriel, before both of their parents hurried from the room.

Gwen considered Gabriel from across the table. He looked genuinely wretched – as grey-faced and hollowed-out as if the assassin had, in fact, succeeded.

‘Come on,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’ll sleep in your room.’

Gabriel followed Gwen without complaint or comment, shrugging off his jacket once they reached his room and hanging it neatly off the back of one of the chairs, which he sank into with a very resigned expression on his face. It was only when Gwen sat down in the other and put a hand to her still-braided hair that it occurred to her to miss her lady-in-waiting.

‘I don’t know where Agnes is,’ she said, anxiety plucking at her chest. ‘I don’t – she went to find Sidney, but—’

‘Father said everybody’s fine,’ Gabriel said evenly. ‘They’re probably both being interrogated though, if they were loitering outside. About where they were. What they saw. Sidney might be a suspect, for all we know.’

‘Poor Sir Hurst,’ Gwen said, her pulse slowing. ‘I can’t imagine interrogating Sidney will be a particularly fruitful task.’

‘I don’t know,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’ve always found him perfectly pleasant.’

‘That’s because you’re a man,’ Gwen said bitterly. ‘He doesn’t talk to me as he should.’

‘Perhaps he just doesn’t know how to talk to you,’ Gabriel said, ignoring Gwen’s exasperated sigh.

‘Well,’ she said, crossing her arms. ‘That makes two of you.’

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, starting to look like a bird that had misjudged the voracity of the wind, and seemed to be working up to saying something. Gwen fought her urge to press him and just waited, her fingers working steadily at a loose thread in the hem of her sleeve.

‘Gwen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said, I wasn’t – I wasn’t expecting you to tell me … what you told me,’ he said eventually.

Gwen just looked at him. She was always the one who spoke first; helped Gabriel fill in the gaps when he couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t her responsibility this time. He’d have to find them on his own.

‘I don’t want things to be more difficult for you,’ he said slowly. ‘For you to spend your life longing for something that you could never have in any real way. Isn’t it better to just … make peace with what youdohave? Try to forget about the rest?’

‘What does that even mean?’ Gwen said despondently. ‘In anyreal way? What part of my life is real, at the moment? I’m betrothed to a man I’m not the least bit attracted to, and I know he feels the same about me. But I’ve been thinking … and, Gabe, if we might all be stabbed in our own beds at any moment, it seems … Well, there might be a way to let a little bit of my life be my own. Even if it’s secret, even if it’s hard, it’ll bemine. What’s not real about that?’

‘What do you imagine you’ll be allowed to have?’ Gabrielasked; it could have sounded confrontational, but he genuinely seemed to be asking her.

‘Well, I’ll marry Arthur, obviously,’ Gwen said, noticing the slight twitch in Gabriel’s hands as she did. ‘I’ll marry him and we’ll find a way to live together without killing each other, and then Bridget …’ And then what? She’d offer some tiny slice of herself to Bridget, who might not even want it?