Page 25 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

—FROM AN EARLY DRAFT OFTHE QUESTS OF KING GABRIEL AND HIS ROUND TABLEBY SIR FLORIAN ARDEN

“I’m already hungry,” Sidney was saying, adjusting and readjusting the stiff strap on his new pauldron so carelessly that Bridget wanted to slap his hand away before he fiddled it beyond repair. “Are you hungry? I should have had a bigger breakfast, but I was nervous.”

“Mmm,” Bridget replied, her hand light on the reins as they traveled through the very outskirts of Camelot, the crowds thinning to just people waving from their doorways and small gangs of children jogging briefly to match their pace. She noted each of them anyway, weighing them up as threats and then moving on to the next.

“I like a few meals before lunch. Little and often, you know. Apple?”

It took Bridget a moment to realize she was being offered said fruit, which she declined.

Sidney shrugged, and bit into the apple himself. Between wet bites, he said, “You and Gwen back on tonguing terms then?”

“You know,” Bridget replied, “we don’t have to keep riding two abreast. Or… perhaps you could ride with Arthur.”

“Nah,” said Sidney. “He’s busy.”

Arthur had been paired with Sir Leonard, and they were riding just ahead. Knowing both of them, Bridget could have warned Lady Oakley that this was likely a mistake. At first, they had been slightly wary of each other, like a cat catching sight of itself in a mirror; now they were laughing, both of them with the same habit of tossing their head back so that the light reflected off all of that shiny hair.

“He’s found blond Arthur,” Sidney said, and Bridget snorted quietly.

“Sir Leonard is an extremely accomplished knight. One of the most revered in England. Last week, Arthur fell over from a sitting position.”

“Well, I don’t mean swords and stuff.”

Bridget watched Sir Leonard lean over to slap Arthur on the arm in faux outrage. “They certainly both think they’re excellent company.”

The city wall loomed ahead, and as they rode through the gate, Bridget felt a modicum of relief. The countryside meant fewer people, fewer vantage points from above, feweranglesto consider. There was a small guard riding with them, front and rear, plus squires—Sir Leonard had argued against extra personnel, pointing out that a party of knightswasthe guard, and had been overruled on grounds of safety—but Bridgethad been unable to relax regardless, with so many people so very close.

Also, some of them had been shouting her name and throwing small favors at her, which was as excruciating as always, if somewhat diluted by the fact of her star-studded company. Others had been bold enough to hiss at her, after the king and his guards had passed, making their disapproval known.

Outside the city proper it didn’t take long for the spectators to dwindle to nothing, and once the last waving farmer had fallen out of view, the party slowed, which meant that Bridget was suddenly and unwittingly part of Arthur and Leonard’s conversation.

“Leclair,” Arthur said, twisting in the saddle, “is it true that somebody at a joust asked you to sign her cleavage? And she was about five-and-forty? And she tried to put her bosomsinyour hand?”

Bridget looked to Leonard, unimpressed, and found him smiling back at her. She cleared her throat. “No comment.”

“They just always look soconfused,” Leonard said, pink-faced and glossy-eyed from a recent laughing fit. “They know they want to be near her, but they have no ideawhy. Although, perhaps less so since the Lancelot laws.”

“Plausible deniability is a hell of a thing,” said Arthur.

Gwen had circled her horse around to fall back. “What are you talking about?” she asked Arthur.

“Leclair has been autographing breasts,” he said innocently. “Apparently.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow and looked to Bridget, who was forced to say, “I have not. I… politely declined.”

“Good to know.” She turned to the others. “We’re onlygoing to ride as far as the Horse and Grail, and then stop for the night. We’ve sent a guard ahead to make things ready.”

“I thought we were riding for Batstoke?” said Arthur, surprising everyone with the implication that he’d actually read the schedule.

“Just thought maybe we shouldn’t go too hard on the first day,” Gwen said. To Bridget, this was an obvious lie, but everyone else seemed to accept it. “Rest up, you know? There’s no rush.”

“There kind of is,” said Arthur. “What was the point of me memorizing the first three stops to look engaged and involved if you’re going to scrap them on a whim?”

“Ha! Iknewyou hadn’t read the whole schedule.” Gwen turned her horse again, glancing back at Bridget over her shoulder with a small smile, her hair windswept, her green eyes crinkling. Her face was less soft than it had been, like she’d properly grown into her bones or something. How could so much have changed in just one summer?

Bridget watched Gwen rejoin her brother, and the convoy took off again. It was a dull ride, but not a particularly taxing one. Sidney did in fact trot off with Arthur and Sir Leonard, so Bridget fell back to ride with Adah, who kept up a steady and soothing commentary about how weird this all was—the ceremony, the expensive custom armor, the fact that servants who’d been peers now bowed to her and called hermy lady—until they reached the Horse and Grail.

It was barely even afternoon; they’d planned to ride until nightfall, but one look at Gabriel’s face as he dismounted was enough to explain this detour.