Page 22 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

Arthur rolled his eyes, amused, and Gabriel caught the moment his gaze landed on Florian, who shot him a tentative smile in return.

This was a nightmare. Why had nobody thought through the consequences of assembling a round table full of attractive people who had no choice but to look at each other? The shape of the table demanded it!

Lady Oakley was clinging to the last vestiges of order with both hands. “Sir Florian—Ah, I meanLordFlorian, my apologies—”

“Siris fine,” Florian interjected. “Better.”

“Sir Florian,” Lady Oakley continued smoothly, “is an extremely gifted swordsman and horseman. He’s fluent in six languages, an expert archer, managed the affairs of his father’s holdings from the age of twelve, and has been a cultist since birth, so he is very familiar with their teachings and practices. Of further note, and particular interest to our proceedings here, he is a great wordsmith and storyteller, and I think would be best placed to record the events of this quest.”

Arthur was definitely looking at Florian now, with a slightly creased brow that betrayed his interest.

Florian cleared his throat, and everybody waited in suspense until he said, “I wouldn’t say fluent. My German is middling.”

“Where were you when your father came to soak the fields of Camelot with our blood and end the de Gray line?” Sir Hurst asked, tactful as always.

“Sir Hurst—” Lady Oakley interjected, but he shook his head.

“I think it’s pertinent information, don’t you? It is utterly ridiculous that he sits here at this table.”

“It’s all right,” said Florian. He was speaking directly to his hands, which were pressed white-knuckled against the table. “I was at my family house, dealing with domestic matters,”

“Domestic matters,” Sir Hurst repeated disbelievingly. “So you weren’t kept out of the way so that in the event of yourfather’s death, but a cultist victory, you might be offered instead for the throne?”

“Not really how uprisings usually work, is it?” Florian replied evenly. “My father’s was a cult of personality. The two of us were not interchangeable, and I had no designs on the throne. We were… not in agreement about that, or a great many other things.”

Sir Hurst was unmoved. “I still find it hard to believe—”

“If I may interject on behalf of sons with bad fathers everywhere,” said Arthur, raising his hand, “myfather threw our lot in withhisfather, and everybody here thought I was a traitor to the crown for a bit, and we’ve managed to sort that out. Why can we not also offer Sir Florian the benefit of the doubt?”

“Because we cannot account for him or his true motives!” Sir Hurst slammed his hand down onto the table. “Nobody hereknowsthis man or what he might do, now that he is privy to every movement of this court.”

Florian stood up suddenly, and Sir Hurst actually went to draw his dagger. Gabriel saw this fact register on Florian’s face; saw him flinch and then take a deep breath to help absorb this blow. “I’ll go,” he muttered. “This was a mistake.”

“No,” Gabriel said. He didn’t say it with much force, but all eyes snapped to him anyway. “Florian, please sit down. Lady Oakley, continue.”

Florian hesitated, but then sat back down, his shoulders still angled toward the door for economy of movement in the event of his escape.

“Let’s talk about the itinerary then,” Lady Oakley said brightly, handing a pile of parchment to a member of staff, who started distributing them around the table. Gabriel picked up his and felt the cold teeth of anxiety close aroundhis stomach. This schedule took them all the way through to November, when the worsening weather would force them to retreat to the hearths of Camelot.

“So as you can see,” Lady Oakley said quickly, perhaps sensing that Gabriel was about to object, “the plan is to visit a number of influential nobles at home, but also to be seen in towns and villages, and to meet with local authorities who have been keeping track of these Arthurian happenings. The route is roughly circuitous, heading north first so that you are as southerly as possible later in the year. Back well in time for Yuletide. A longer campaign would obviously have been preferable, but I’ve designed it to be as brief as possible.”

Gabriel scanned the page again. Unfortunately she was right. He could try to argue that they shouldn’t visit Lord Faber so that they might be home a few days earlier, or that rumblings of an actual Lady of the Lake weren’t worth investigating, but it was so much harder to argue with people when you knew from the outset that you were wrong.

“The Green Knight?” Sir Leonard said, looking up from the page, his eyes dancing with mirth. “We’re seeking the actualGreen Knight? Is that… wise?”

“It’s not really him,” Gwen replied. “But people have been begging Gabriel to come and verify, or put the whole thing to bed, as the case will certainly be.”

“The Green Knight,” Sir Leonard repeated, smiling, and Gabriel could tell that he was at least half a believer. If he’d believed in any of this himself, it might all feel a bit more portentous; instead, it was rather like being a glorified candle-safety man, going from town to town to check that nothing was about to be set alight.

Lady Oakley started discussing practicalities, food supply, the size of the party, and Gabriel let her voice fall away ashe watched Arthur, who was drumming his fingers on the freshly oiled table and watching Florian, who was still wistfully watching the door.

So Arthur and Florian were probably going to fall in love and spend the following months laughing together in the next tent. Great. From the way Gwen kept darting looks at Bridget, that particular romantic epic wasn’t nearing its conclusion anytime soon. Sirs Leonard and Bowen would continue to act like twin angels of devotion; Sidney behaved like a man already married and very proud of that fact; and considering Gabriel’s luck, Lady Adah would probably trip and fall into a relationship somewhere along the road.

Everybody would be merry and lusty and in love, and Gabriel would be alone in his tent, isolated by his crown, shaking like a small dog shown a picture of a rabbit.

December couldn’t come soon enough.

“If anybody has any questions, please do come and speak to me, but I will also be providing you with more information before we depart. There will be fittings for your new armor tomorrow, and I believe Sir Bowen has volunteered to demonstrate some of the courtly manners and formalities expected of a knight of the realm, for any who are unsure.” Lady Oakley shuffled her parchment and looked around at them all, her expression cheery. “All that remains… I know you’ve already sworn your oaths as knights, but I thought perhaps to mark the occasion…”