Page 65 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“Yep,” Bridget said immediately. “Fine.”

“You know you don’t have to be—”

Bridget released the girth strap. “Sorry, I know. I’m good today. Thank you.”

Gwen smiled. She looked tired. Bridget’s shame turned to guilt. She had enough on her plate without Bridget falling apart all over her; she was the one keeping this expedition going, and Bridget had no doubt that she was also the only thing keeping Gabriel upright and on his horse. It was too much for one person to bear. There had been enough moments of weakness from Bridget’s side; she had dealt with it, and it was done. From now on, she would do better.

“Good,” Gwen said. “That’s a very nice hat, Neil.”

Neil managed a smile, but Bridget knew it was only because he was in the presence of royalty. “Thank you, Your Highness. Arthur took a liking to it too. He offered me your hand in marriage in exchange. I hope you won’t be offended that I said no.”

“He did, did he?” said Gwen. “That’s nice. No offense taken. Toyouanyway.” She turned to Bridget, gave her a squeeze on the arm, and said, “I have to ride with Gabriel. We’ll talk when we make camp?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She released Bridget’s arm, turned to squint across the courtyard until she spotted Arthur, who was now talking to Sir Florian, the two of them laughing together about something, and then raised her voice to a shout. “Arthur Delacey—did you try totrade mefor ahat?”

The days were long and repetitive. The countryside changed, but it was the same rotation: field, forest, field, village, field, field, field. Everybody was so tired by the end of each day that only the hardiest now stayed out by the fire; everyone else took their meals in blessed quietude. Bridget ate with Gwen sometimes, but they didn’t talk about much more than what they’d seen riding that day. Gwen was so exhausted that sometimes she’d fall asleep halfway through a meal, or a sentence—once, even a mouthful.

She wasn’t used to this kind of travel. She was a good sport about it, but it was tough, even for those with staff to attend to them, and the strain showed. They all washed in bracingly cold streams, ate rabbit and game bird for supper, rose with the sun, and slept like the dead.

By the seventh day, spirits were higher. The end of the journey to Wales was in sight, and the land had risen up aroundthem until they were riding through the valleys of rugged hills and small mountains. Everything just feltbetterwhen you were next to a mountain; the journey more prestigious, the quest more historic. Or, as Arthur put it, “Flat land is boring. Hills go up and down. A jig for the eyes.”

The lake, when they reached it, was long and windswept, the rocky hills on either side exposed to the elements, a mountain peaking in almost a perfect triangle beyond the north bank. The sun was making a rare appearance, lighting up the land in shades of brown, green, and gold and lending a touch of color to the water, but the wind was frigid; waves rippled across its surface, and Bridget watched them and shivered.

“So is the Lady…inthe Lake,” Adah said doubtfully, as they stretched their legs by the shore, “or…?”

“I’ll be disappointed if she’s not,” said Sidney. “Commit to the bit or resign in disgrace.”

“All we’ve been asked to do is confirm if she’s of magical provenance or just a… woman,” said Sir Hurst.

“How are we going to do that?” asked Adah. “Ducking stool?”

“Of course not.”

Florian, who seemed surprisingly practical, shook his head. “She wouldn’t last long in the water, in these temperatures. Perhaps that’s why she thinks she’s fae? Long-term impacts of shivering sickness?”

“Are you a cultist or not?” Sidney groused, sounding very disappointed.

“Yes, but you’ll forgive me if I refuse to believe that the Lady of the Lake appears so often and to so many people that she’s readily available to take meetings.”

Sidney sniffed. “I won’t forgive you actually.”

Everybody was irritable and cold, and there was much griping and kicking of pebbles until Sir Hurst took out hismaps and consulted them with Sir Bowen’s help. They determined that the valley beyond the lake was where they would find the promised Lady.

It was a beautiful view from the top. The land fell steeply away, twin rivers wending their way through grassland and trees, small stone settlements billowing smoke in the distance. Beyond, there was another lake.

“Is she the Lady of that Lake or the Lady of this Lake?” said Adah.

Arthur, grumpy and disheveled, said, “Perhaps she casts a wide net.”

“We’ll try over there,” Sir Hurst said, pointing. There was a wooden hut set into the side of the hill, small and simple, smoke snaking from the chimney; no visible path led to it, and it would be far too treacherous by horses and unnavigable by cart. “No sense in us all going. I’ll lead a party, everyone else find tree cover and get warm.”

“Get warm?” said Sidney. “How? Wind’ll kill any fire we try to start up here. Look, there’s one going in there.Thatlooks warm.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “And how are we going to fit everyone in a little hut?”

“We’ll just stand up very straight.”