Page 90 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘How did you get past the guards?’

‘Oh – killed them all in cold blood, obviously,’ Arthur said incredulously. ‘I didn’t do anything to them. Sidney’s distracting them – with a little something we call the “bachelor in distress”.’

‘Leave now,’ Gabriel said slowly, ‘or I’ll call them to have you removed, Arthur. Stay away from me, stay away from my sister—’

‘Are youpossessed?’ Arthur shouted, accidentally knocking one of Gabriel’s books to the ground, and feeling a horrid jolt of unease when Gabriel flinched. ‘What have Idone, Gabriel? BecauseI don’t understand. Tell me—’

Gabriel hadn’t needed to call for the guards; Arthur’s shouting had done the job for him. They came up behind him and grabbed him quite forcefully by the arms. What little strength had powered him to the library was long spent, and he didn’t even attempt to struggle as they started to drag him away.

‘Gabriel,’ he said, knowing he was pleading now and finding he didn’t care. ‘Please. Come on. Shit.Please. Tell me what I did.’

Gabriel said nothing, his face stricken. In the lamplight, he looked strangely young – not like a future king at all, just a boy, being swallowed whole by the dust and the darkness and the thousands of words of history closing in all around him.

One more day.

Gwen just had to make it through one more day, and then the tournament would be over; Bridget would be gone; the people filling the city of Camelot to the rafters would start to make their way home. Her life would shrink, and she and Gabriel could sit down and work out what on earth they were going to do about Arthur.

The letter had spelled it all out for her, damningly clear. The Delaceys had planned this together; her friendship with Arthur, his closeness with Gabriel. Arthur had been sent to charm them. It was all political, a game – and she and Gabriel had walked right into it willingly, ready to spill their secrets the moment somebody showed them the slightest bit of kindness.

After Gabriel had read it for himself, she’d told him exactly what she’d overheard – Lord Delacey’s bragging, Gabriel’s secret hopes for the future laid bare. He had sat for at least two minutes in complete silence going over the letter again, Gwen feeling as if she were going slowly mad as she waited for him to say something, until he had suddenly crumpled it in his hand, looked up at her and said ‘Well. That’s that then.’

‘How can you be so calm? He knowseverythingabout us. Me and Bridget. You, and—’

‘Yes.’ Gabriel was very pale. ‘He does. But let’s think about this rationally. His father won’t use this information now, because he still wants you and Arthur to marry. Lord Delacey likes to feel powerful, and I know Father has been brushing him off – he wants more than Father is willing to give.’

‘How do we know he won’t use it now? He was telling that man plenty.’

‘He likes to let his mouth run away from him, but he’s not going to ruin the chance to marry Arthur into royalty,’ Gabriel said. ‘That’s the highest position available to him, and we know that’s what he’s after. No … I think he’ll use it later. For leverage. He can hold it above our heads – and Father’s – whenever he pleases. Use it to get a higher title, perhaps, or a position on Father’s council.’

Gwen put her head back in her hands, where it felt less likely to fall off her shoulders and plummet right through the floor. ‘Oh God. Do we have to tell Father about this?’

Gabriel rose to his feet very slowly, as if every ligament in his body were resisting. ‘No. Not yet. He might not even tell Father, he might come straight to me. I just need a little time to … think this through.’

‘Gabe,’ Gwen said. He was approaching all of this with careful pragmatism, as if they hadn’t both been thoroughly, ruthlessly betrayed in the worst way possible. ‘You’re allowed to be … I don’t know … angry. Upset. What he did to you …’

Gabriel sighed, rubbing at his forehead until it looked pink and painful. ‘Yes. Fine. I am both of those things. Butmore pressingly, I need to work out what we’re going to do about this.’

They both looked despondently down at the letter.

‘How could he do this?’ Gwen whispered into the silence.

Neither of them had an answer.

A clean, bright rage had come over Gwen that night. She had told the guards that circumstances had changed, to prevent Sidney or Arthur from snooping around the royal quarters at their leisure, and then cornered Agnes in the ladies’ solar and told her to cease all contact with Sidney immediately.

‘Why would I do that?’ Agnes had said, chin lifted in defiance.

Gwen had given her a brief summary of events, but to her utter disbelief, Agnes had refused to accept her explanation.

‘It must be a misunderstanding,’ she kept saying, shaking her head. ‘If you’d just talk to him—’

‘I’m not going to talk to him!’ Gwen had shouted. ‘I’m not going to give him a chance to worm his way back into my brain when I’ve just managed to get him out. He’s obviously a very … a very skilledliar, a very good manipulator – I’m not going to talk to him, and neither are you. To either of them.’

‘Is that an order?’ Agnes said, her eyes glossy with furious tears.

‘Yes, Agnes. It’s an order,’ Gwen said, turning and marching from the room.

As she lay sleeplessly in her bed that night, counting down the hours until dawn and the final day of thetournament, she wondered what Bridget would say if she knew. She pictured her there, lying next to Gwen in the gloom, the two of them talking in the kind of hushed tones only used between people tentatively mapping the foundations of each other in the middle of the night.