Page 58 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

Because he’s probably not well enough to hold a stick right now, let alone a sword, and he’s brave in the stupidest ways, and he’d definitely actually die as a small favor to someone he loved, and he stood for Gwen with no hesitation despite all of the above, and obviously,obviously, because I still love him.

“Right,” said the knight, nodding thoughtfully, as if Gabriel had said any of this aloud.

He realized he’d frozen to the spot, probably looking just as terrified as he felt. “Um,” he said, swallowing hard. “I don’t— It’s quite a complex—”

“Strike the blow, friend,” said the Green Knight, and Gabriel just… did. He struck the knight on the shoulder, a hair’s breadth away from a gaping hole in his chain mail, just hard enough that it made a metallicthunkof a sound, not hard enough to do any real damage.

The knight dropped to his knees as if he’d been dealt a death blow, letting the axe fall from his fingers into the dirt.

He seemed fine.

“Aren’t you going to hit me back?” Gabriel whispered. “If not now, in… one year hence or whatever?”

“I’ve already dealt the blow,” said the Green Knight, and then he tilted his helmed head to one side and winked.

Twenty-Five

“A sort of psychological warfare,” Gwen said. “A metaphorical blow. Very interesting. And he said he’s going home, he’s had his fun and he can’t top dueling the king, plus his wife isveryannoyed. He’s a blacksmith, apparently, usually very ordinary, but he had some sort of epiphany and walked out of his house and wandered around until he found his bridge. Said he lived off the land for a while and had visions of the fae telling him the meaning of life.”

“Translation,” Bridget cut in. “He ate some suspect mushrooms. Mild hallucinatory poisoning.”

“Well, exactly. I think he probably just worked a bit too hard and needed some time off. And now of course we have the perfect story, because Gabe reallydidstrike a blow against him, and itdiddefeat him, even if it was all a bit odd. I’m dying to know what question he asked him.”

It was early evening, and they were sitting by the fire in a private parlor, a luxury afforded to them because they werestaying overnight with a baron who kept a country house nearby and seemed absolutely baffled by his good fortune at hosting the royal company. He was surprisingly normal, for a baron, but he had made a point of providing separate rooms for men and ladies to relax in, which seemed more than pointless, considering the romantic inclinations of almost the entire round table.

Adah had gone to ask for mead instead of wine, and came back happy and laden. When she saw how close Gwen and Bridget were sitting—both of them on cushions on the floor, Bridget with her back against a chair and Gwen lounging in a way that made her hair fall like licks of flame across the soft furnishings—she halted.

“I can just go… somewhere else,” she said. “If you want.”

Bridget said, “Stay,” and Gwen said, “No, no, not at all, please, sit down, have one of these cushions, would you like to be closer to the fire?” Which was effectively the same thing. Adah accepted the offer of a cushion and did sit.

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause, and Bridget realized she’d never encouraged cross-pollination between these two different sides of her life. Adah and Elaine and other friends at Camelot, the knights she’d come to know better on the circuit—they existed completely apart from Gwen, Princess of England, the best and strangest summer fling of Bridget’s life, now over a year past due and still holding on.

There’d been no need, in Bridget’s mind, to plan for how their lives might continue onward, overlapping and intertwining, because she hadn’t expected they’d make it past last August.

Also… it had felt safer this way. Bridget couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.

“I was just wondering what the… the blacksmith knightmight have asked my brother, to get him so worked up,” Gwen said, declining mead as Bridget accepted it.

“Um,” Adah said, glancing sideways at Gwen and then looking down at her cup. “No offense meant, but I’m not sure it’d take much to tip him over the edge. He seems stressed.”

“Oh, no, you’re right. He is.” Gwen frowned, and then said, “He’s actually been hiding sometimes when he’s supposed to be in council meetings. He thinks I haven’t noticed. But I did once see Lord Das talking to him through the door of a cupboard.” She looked to Adah, suddenly on guard. “This stays between us, yes?”

“Sworn to secrecy,” said Adah. “And sworn specifically to your brother, for that matter. I’m no oath breaker.”

“I believe you. Anyway, he’s all shaken up about something, and we’ve got to do this speech tomorrow. At least hopefully he’ll be coming off the back of a lot of Green Knight goodwill.”

“I could’ve taken him,” said Adah. “I get why he said no, but damn. Would’ve been fun. Been a knight for a month and I’ve seen absolutely no action. I’m bored!”

“He probably wouldn’t have fought you either,” Bridget pointed out. “Just asked you a question to mess with your head.”

“True,” Adah said. “But I am a perfect person, and therefore have an unassailable sense of self. No green giant can mess with me.”

“Same!” said Gwen, with just a hint of irony. Adah lifted her mead in Gwen’s direction, and Gwen groped around for her cup of lemon tea and did the same, smirking.

“Leclair, however,” Adah said, turning solemn. “Whooo, boy. She could have done with a blow to the brain. Lots to untangle in there.”

“Oh, I think she’s pretty perfect too,” said Gwen, tilting her head in Bridget’s direction. “In most of the ways that count.”