Page 62 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“The next time we send word to Camelot, I’ll put in the request. It might take a few weeks to arrive.” Estrild looked discouraged, like a few weeks might as well be a decade. “But I have some books with me. Perhaps you’d like one of those. There aren’t any about insects, but there is one about surgery that we have another copy of at the castle. The pictures are horrible.”

“Yes, please, I’ll have the one with the horrible pictures, please,” Estrild said in a rush, before he could rescind the offer.

“Good,” said Gabriel. “I’ll have someone run it over before we leave.”

He resisted the urge to shake her hand to seal the deal.

Gwen and Sir Hurst were waiting with the teacher, and when he went to meet them, his sister smiled encouragingly and said, “That was good!”

“Was it?” said Gabriel. “I lost two books.”

“Ah,” said the teacher. “Yes. Estrild drives a hard bargain. I should have warned you, Majesty, my apologies.”

It had all gone rather well. After the school tour, a few local tradespeople came to present their wares, and ask Gabriel questions about trade restrictions that might hinder them, and Gabriel was all too happy to discuss it with them. He didn’t even need Gwen to step in and take over. When Sir Hurst said that it was time for them to leave, Gabriel didn’tfeel his usual instant and overwhelming relief. He’d almost lost track of time.

A rare and precious good mood, the feeling of a job well done, buoyed him all the way back to the baron’s house. He was actually humming under his breath as he entered his room, peeling off his jacket, readying himself for a well-earned nap, when he approached his bed and stopped in his tracks.

Arthur was lying there, blanket draped half over him, head on Gabriel’s pillow. He looked deceptively angelic when he slept, soft dark lashes fluttering over his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted. Gabriel had watched him sometimes when his own sleep evaded him, feeling like he was stealing something precious, hoarding it for later.

Arthur stirred, and Gabriel’s breathing stalled. What was the etiquette here? Sneak away? But it washisroom—so where to sneak to?Arthur’sroom? Surely not.

“Gabriel?” It was too late; Arthur was gazing at him from under those long lashes, hazy and confused. “What are you… Why are you in my room?”

“Um. It’s my room actually.”

“Your…?” Arthur seemed to jolt to full consciousness; he sat up abruptly, pushing the blanket down to his thighs. “Shit. Sorry. I needed to lie down, they were cleaning mine, they said you’d be out for hours and they’d do yours after, or I swear I wouldn’t have—”

“It’s all right.”

Arthur swung his legs around, went to stand, then staggered—and Gabriel caught him with his good arm without thinking, easing him back down, repeating “Whoa, whoa” as if he were hushing a frightened horse.

“Damn it. I was having such a nice nap,” Arthur said, heavywith regret. “I think my body thought I was in a cave, like a bear.”

“Go back to sleep if you want.”

“In your bed?”

It wouldn’t be the first time, Gabriel thought, and from the expression that passed across Arthur’s face, he was thinking the same. He realized too late that he still had his arm around Arthur’s back, and let go as if his skin were scalding.

“You should rest, you’ve been ill.”

Arthur smoothed his hair back, letting his hand run all the way down until he was pulling the length of it away from his neck, then let go. “Mmm. Getting better, but yes. Inconveniently timed. I should have asked to be slung over the back of the supply wagon instead of having to ride on bloody horseback, but it didn’t feel very knightly of me.”

“You can ride in the wagon if you like.”

“With the cheese,” Arthur said. “And the biscuits. Actually, on second thought, maybe I should.” They were too close for conversation really, a distance apart that made everything feel too intimate, but neither of them moved away. “How was your school thing?”

“Oh, it was… good actually.” It felt strange to be able to say that, but it was true.

“So the children didn’t eat you?”

Gabriel gave him a weak smile. “Not this time. In fact… it was nice. I got to speak to some people about things I’m actually interested in, and I was almost—”

“Good at it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Arthur lifted a brow. “I would. You’ve always been great at talking about all sorts of clever things. Things that make me feel ill on principle. Statistics, and geography. Mathematics. Ugh.”