Page 84 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

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

“I have no idea,” Sir Florian said, watching the dancers, “how I’m supposed to write any of this down.”

Bridget, who was taking a break from the dancing, shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the king.”

“I will,” Florian said. “Later. He’s… busy.”

Gabriel and Arthur were still out there. Not always together, but the way these dances worked, even when they were flung apart, they always ended up coming back around to each other.

“Not like it’s going to be much of a secret.”

“No,” Florian said thoughtfully. “I suppose not. And there is… It must mean quite a lot to some people, as the new laws did. To have grown old and never been able to love someonein full view…” He flushed. “Sorry, I know this isn’t exactly academic to you.”

“Do you now?”

“I have suspected… but don’t worry. As I’ve told the king, I consider myself an ally to your cause.”

“An ally,” said Bridget. “That’s nice.”

“I hope I’m not being patronizing.”

“No.” Bridget shook her head. “Well. Just a bit. But you’re trying to be kind.” She liked Florian, or what she’d seen of him on this quest anyway. He was kind of quiet. Friendly. A nice guy, and surprisingly normal for this family.

Plus, he wasn’t at all weird about the fact that she’d killed his father, so she owed him some grace.

Back in Bridget’s grandparents’ homeland, conquered lords were left in place, sending their children to their overlord’s states—mueangs—to marry and fight for them, friendly hostages, while the conquered fought for the winner’s causes. It felt strangely fitting for Florian to be here, riding under Gabriel’s banner.

Bridget wondered if he felt at all like a hostage.

“I imagine it hasn’t been quite this easy everywhere?” Florian asked.

Bridget surveyed the room. Some of those who hadn’t left but clearly didn’t approve had flocked to the edges of the hall so that they could mutter alarmedly together.

“Might not be that easy here either.”

“But if the king were to go public,” Florian prompted, “to proclaim that he is courting a man… that might move the needle quite considerably, would it not?”

“Could do,” said Bridget. “Or it could make things worse, for the people who need it. The ones who said those letters were fake and the king was godless are already out for blood.And it’ll add fuel to that fire—course, he’d have said hefoundlove letters between Sir Lancelot and King Arthur. Suits his agenda.”

“You think they’d say he falsified them? The letters? But experts have—”

“People don’t like experts,” Bridget said glumly. “Unless they’re backing up exactly what they already believe. Plus, it’d put an enormous target on his back. Or… an even bigger one. People might decide that, king or not, it’s past time to kill him.”

“Do you look for assassins ineveryroom?”

“Yep,” said Bridget, her mood soured. “Because, sometimes, I find them. Excuse me.”

Gwen was now dancing with a stranger, a dark-haired and handsome Welshman who kept smiling bashfully at her every time the steps required them to meet face-to-face. Bridget wasn’t going to put any sort of stop to it, but she did want to be in knife-throwing range, should the need arise.

She was crossing the hall, not taking her eyes off Gwen, when Sir Bowen stepped into her path.

“Sorry, Bowen,” Bridget said, trying to weave around him, “I’m just—”

“Being paranoid and overprotective? I’ve heard.”

“Why do you think we have guards here, if there’s no risk?”