Page 103 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“It’s a good thing we did,” said Sir Hurst, “because we found, in writing, his intention to put his own son on the throne.” He picked up the parchment and showed it to Gabriel. It seemed to be some sort of journal entry, not as formal as the ones he’d been writing to document their questing; this one was more personal. From the few sentences Gabriel was able to read quickly, it seemed Florian was arguing with himself over the potential pros and cons of Galahad as heir.

“I tried to tell him, Gabriel,” Florian started, but Sir Hurst cut him off.

“You will address him asYour Majesty. In fact—you should not be addressing him atall.”

“Hold on!” Arthur had apparently been lingering on the stairs, listening; he burst into the room so violently that the momentum carried him almost all the way to Florian’s side.“Sorry, but no. We’re not doing this again. Why does everybody around herealwaysthink perfectly nice people are betraying them? Whatever happened tocommunication?”

“Your fatherwasbetraying us,” shouted Sir Hurst. “And the king had every right to—”

“You sent Florian out there without a sword! This whole trip! Even yesterday, we were running headlong into danger and you wouldn’t even—”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Gabriel interjected. “Please sit down, Sir Hurst. And let me explain.”

“Well,” Arthur said peevishly. “Exactly. If everybody justlistenedto each other, we wouldn’t have any more of these ridiculous misunderstandings.”

Gabriel explained, and Sir Hurst’s posture went from upright and indignant to slightly wilted.

“I apologize for… bothering you with this,” he said stiffly, once Gabriel was finished—but he was talking toGabriel, not Sir Florian.

“I’m not the one who deserves an apology.”

Sir Hurst nodded sharply, then turned to Sir Florian, gave him a brief and very stiff “Sorry.”

“And, Sir Hurst?Give him back his sword.”

“Thanks,” Florian said shakily, sitting down as Sir Hurst marched from the room. “I tried to explain, but…”

“It’s not your fault,” Arthur said indignantly. Then he sat down too, and took a piece of bread from Sir Leonard’s plate. “Now you’re really in my innocent accused-traitors club. There’s only two of us, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty to say about it.”

“I’ll dismiss him, Florian,” Gabriel said quietly. “If you want. I mean it. He’s been a good Captain of the Guard, and my father was very close with him, but… we’re not in a position to be making enemies of our friends.”

Florian shook his head. “No, please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I knew he’d lost his job over me.”

“That’s where you and I differ,” said Arthur. “And perhaps we can argue about it, at the meetings for our club.”

Gabriel looked around at his knights. The events of the previous day had left him feeling like they were standing once again at a crossroads—danger ahead, last chance to turn back. Before, he might have dismissed his concerns as cowardice, but he felt sure now that the decisions of the future weren’t only his to make.

“I want us all to meet,” he said, addressing the room. “Tomorrow, once we’ve rested, on the beach. There’s something we need to discuss.”

It was the first time in his life he’d actually requested a meeting. He hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit of it.

He checked on Gwen, found her bed empty, then opened Bridget’s door a crack and saw that the two of them were asleep. Good. They needed it. He’d never been more impressed by his sister than the moment she’d stepped up to defend Bridget with her sword; it had made him feel a little braver too.

The next morning he breakfasted slowly, and then he and Arthur pulled on warmer things—strange, lumpy knitwear from Gabriel’s mother and winter-weight cloaks—and went down to the beach early, walking slowly; there were a few people who could have seen them there—passing travelers, the staff at the inn—but he linked his arm with Arthur’s anyway.

“You were very brave,” Arthur said. “You even shouted at people. I liked that.”

“Hmm,” said Gabriel. He’d also been a bit sick afterward, but Arthur was kind enough not to bring that up. “You know, there’ve only been a few times since I took the throne that I’vefelt I’m doing something… right. And then later, I panic and I worry, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I can’t just trust that first feeling.”

“Probably because you have good instincts,” said Arthur. “But you live in a world that’s not quite ready for them yet.”

“Maybe,” said Gabriel. “But then, isn’t it my job to make them ready?”

“Drag them kicking and screaming, you mean?” said Arthur. “I mean, yes. I think so. I think that’s the whole point of all of this, especially for someone like you. To make people’s lives better. To change things for the good, even if it’s hard. And to accept that some people are really, really going to hate you for it.”

They were following the drift line, crunching over broken shells and chunks of wood and thick, wet snarls of seaweed. Gabriel would have been perfectly happy to stay here forever, but eventually they were going to run out of beach.

“It feels dangerous,” Gabriel said. “And… not to sound like a horrible coward, but I’ve spent my life trying to avoid trouble. Especially since last year.”