Page 67 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

Gwen didn’t laugh. ‘I don’t think it’s a curse.’

‘Sorry. I know. I’m sorry if I made you feel – if I made you feel howIfeel.’

‘You were awful,’ Gwen said. ‘But you’re so rarely awful, Gabe. I think you’re allowed three days of being an unfeeling bastard, after almost two decades of being perfectly pleasant.’

Gabriel nodded solemnly. ‘You look shattered. You can take my bed, I’m going to sit up a while longer.’

‘I know you’re only saying this to stop me from asking you more questions … but yes. Bed,’ Gwen said. She was suddenly so exhausted that it took every ounce of her strength to heave herself out of her chair and walk the fifteen feet to his bedroom.

Despite the very real and present danger of men with knives lurking in the hallways, something inside her had lightened, and she fell asleep almost instantly.

When Gwen awoke, Gabriel was fast asleep in his armchair by the dying fire. She slipped silently out of bed, pulled onone of his cloaks and walked barefoot into the antechamber, making sure not to wake him. She studied his profile, the purplish smudges under his eyes and the frown lines that didn’t completely disappear even when he was sleeping, and felt a rush of fondness towards him.

Arthur had told Gwen to demand more for herself, once. She wondered if he’d told Gabriel the same thing. Shehad barely been listening at the time, so sure that no wisdom he could impart could possibly apply toherlife, but some of what he’d said must have caught and held, because after the previous night’s panic and revelations Gwen had woken up feeling different. Reckless.

Brave.

It wasn’t quite day yet, the pinkish dawn light warming the flagstones as Gwen slipped on her shoes and then walked quietly from the room before she could think too hard about where she was going. The guards outside seemed mildly startled, but only watched silently as she passed them; she crossed through four more human barricades before she reached the stairs, and it was only when she reached the ground floor and walked out into the north-west courtyard that two of them peeled off to follow her.

It was almost like she had dreamed Bridget into existence, a light sword in each hand and her hair wild, wearing the same bloodied shirt and breeches Gwen had last seen her in; she was standing on the other side of the courtyard squaring up to a training dummy, her shoulders heaving. The dummy had been given a shield, and there was a small pile of discarded swords on the ground, as if Bridget had been working her way through them.

‘I’m fine,’ Gwen said to the guards, her mouth dry. She cleared her throat. ‘Leave me, please. I’d like some privacy.’ They fell back and out of sight as Gwen walked the rest of the way alone.

Bridget genuinely didn’t seem to have noticed her. She was pure focus, unrelenting as she ran her drills, her swords finding their target again and again, but as Gwen approached she could see the sweat curling the hair at the back of her neck, her breathing ragged with effort.

‘Bridget,’ she said softly, trying not to startle her; Bridget turned abruptly, her swords still raised, and for a split second Gwen thought she had miscalculated herself out of a face.

‘Gwen?’ Bridget looked bewildered at the sight of her, as if she found her entirely incongruous with the surroundings. Gwen supposed she sort of was, in just her shift and a borrowed cloak, with her hair loose and God knows what expression on her face. Bridget finally seemed to realise that she was holding weapons dangerously close to a royal throat, and lowered them.

‘I wanted … I wanted to come after you when you left last night,’ Gwen said. ‘I wanted to see if you were all right. Are you? All right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Bridget said – but as she spoke she turned to the dummy and lifted her swords again, as if she couldn’t bear to stand still for another second.

‘Have you been here all night?’

Bridget didn’t pause for breath. ‘Yes.’

‘Right,’ Gwen said, watching as she struck with renewed vigour, wondering if these were the actions of a person who was fine. ‘I mean … you know yourself best, after all, but—’

‘I’ve been – training,’ Bridget said, her words punctuated by the sound of sword on shield, ‘to fight – since I was young. I knew this day would come – and it has. I wanted to be a knight, I wanted –everythingthat came with it. And I got it. And I’m fine.’

‘Okay,’ Gwen said, taking a step back, her bravado leaving her. ‘Well. I suppose I’ll just—’

‘Shit,’ Bridget spat, a sword dropping from her grip and clattering against the cobblestones. She wasn’t wearing a gauntlet or gloves, and when she pulled her hand in against her chest Gwen saw that her knuckle had split, blood trickling down into her clenched fist. She stretched out her fingers, wincing, and then wiped the blood on her already ruined tunic before readying herself with her remaining weapon.

‘Bridget,’ Gwen said, alarmed. ‘Stop.’

‘Is that an order?’ Bridget said, as her sword found its target once again, hand still bleeding freely.

‘No,’ said Gwen. ‘It’s not. But I think you should stop anyway.’

If anything, Bridget only seemed to hit the dummy harder. Gwen’s gaze dropped to the discarded pile at her feet; she picked one up, and then without thinking at all about what she was doing, put herself squarely between Bridget and her target and clumsily raised the sword. The blow she caught seemed to vibrate all the way down to the base of her spine, but she managed to hold her ground.

‘That was stupid,’ Bridget said furiously from behind her guard. She didn’t lower her sword, so Gwen didn’t either; they stayed locked together, weapons crossed, neitherwilling to concede an inch. ‘I could have hurt you.’

‘You’re alreadyhurt,’ Gwen countered. Bridget sighed, looking mutinous – and then gave Gwen a little push, disengaging them, and threw down her sword.

‘I’ve never killed anybody before,’ she said roughly, wiping her brow with the back of her unbloodied hand and addressing a point somewhere past Gwen’s shoulder. ‘It’s not something I ever wanted to do. Taking somebody’s life. It all just happened soquickly. He was going for my throat, and then I …’ She raised her fist and then let it fall again.