Page 95 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

There was nothing more Gwen could do except let herself be borne away, across the drawbridge and back towards the castle.

They were crossing the threshold when it began to rain.

‘They must have been filling up the camps for weeks,’ Sir Hurst, the Captain of the Guard, was saying, as the king was strapped into his armour. They were standing in her father’s war room, his council around him – or at least those who had made it back from the tournament grounds. Gwen knew she was only still in this room – sitting by the door, her hands shaking uncontrollably against her knees – because nobody had noticed that she was in there. ‘No one thought to monitor the attendees, there’s been no reason to suspect in the past … It’s been busier, yes, but the tournament is popular. They’ve been concealing themselves in plain sight. The stands were half full of traitors.’

‘And we’re …sureit was Willard?’ said Gwen’s mother, looking stunned.

Sir Hurst ducked his head. ‘Yes, your highness. He was seen giving orders.’

The king breathed in and out slowly through his nose, clearly trying to keep his temper in check.

‘Hellfire and damnation to traitorous cousins.’

‘We sent him casks of wine,’ the queen said faintly. ‘On his birthday.’

‘And how is it that most of the best knights of the realm also happen to be murderous turncoats?’ the king asked.

Sir Hurst winced. ‘I believe – Sir Blackwood, the Grand Marshal, was bribed. We know he gambles, but his debts must be worse than we imagined. It would have been easy enough for a man in his position to mismatch opponents, overlook lances that had been tampered with …’

‘Damn,’ said her father softly, his hand curling into a fist and then quickly releasing again. ‘All right. Where are we now? And – where the hell is Stafford? Did he make it inside?’

Somebody rushed from the room, presumably to try to find out.

‘When it began,’ Gabriel said, his voice quiet but steady, ‘the knights who hadn’t bought their place in the finale rushed to our aid, and I saw some of those watching from the stands do the same. They haven’t all been turned, Father. Far from it.’

Bridget hasn’t been turned, Gwen thought, a wave of nausea rolling through her.Bridget is out there, fighting for us.

‘How many of our people have made it back into the castle?’ her father said, as his gauntlets were eased over his hands.

‘A good many. They’re gathered in the Great Hall,’ said the Captain of the Guard. ‘We have hundreds fit to fight, not including the castle guard.’

‘And my cousin has?’

‘Impossible to say – they may not have brought their full force to the first wave. I imagine there will be more coming from the campgrounds.’

‘The guard stays here,’ the king said, holding his arms up so that he could be fully equipped with sword and dagger. Somebody else had hurried into the room carrying yet more armour – it was dropped unceremoniously on the table. Gwen tried to place it; it was pale gold, with the royal crest emblazoned across the breastplate.

‘No,’ she said, turning to Gabriel, who was standing with both palms flat against the table. ‘No.Not you as well.’

Gabriel tried to smile at her, but it looked instead like an apology she didn’t want to accept. A messenger came rushing in, his chest heaving.

‘Your majesty, the rebels didn’t succeed in pushing up the hill – they’ve fallen back and they’re regrouping with more forces for a fresh assault.’

Gabriel straightened up, clearing his throat, and the king looked at him. ‘What?’

‘We could …’ He broke off, swallowed, and then continued. ‘We could bring up the drawbridge. Shelter in place until the nearest troops reach us. Perhaps—’

‘No,’ the king said immediately. ‘That’ll take days. If we didn’t have men out there already, I might – but, no. We cannot protect ourselves and leave them cut off. Camelot does not hide.’

‘Your majesty,’ the messenger said apprehensively. ‘I was told to inform you – Lord Stafford is with them.’

A stunned silence followed this, and then the king slammed a hand down on the table so hard that everybody jumped.

‘But then … that assassin …’ Gabriel said slowly. His father glanced sharply at him. ‘He was so insistent that it was just a lone wolf with some personal, invented vendetta. But it wouldn’t have been too hard for him to have a person with ill intentions hired to the guard. He was constantly throwing us off the scent. He was one of the loudest voices when it came to sending our troops north, leaving us unprotected, but when Willard was sighted he about-faced and told us it was all paranoia …’

‘After everything you did for him,’ Gwen’s mother said. ‘After the trust you put in him,knowinghe was a cultist and giving him a chance.’

‘But … he had plenty of opportunities to just kill you himself,’ said Gwen. ‘Why did he not take them?’