Page 93 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“She got angry with me when I was trying to help her! I said she didn’thaveto be a knight. She told me… she said I didn’tknowher. And that’s not true. I do know her. I think, by now, I might know her better than anyone does. Except maybe Neil,” she amended.

“It can actually be quite horrid,” Gabriel said mildly. “Letting people know you.”

“Oh, you’re as bad as her, you’re just feeling smug because you’re back with Arthur. Do you have any work for me? I need a distraction.”

“Work?” Gabriel said, tucking the letter back into the stack of papers. “Hmm. Not really.”

“That teacher at the school asked me, privately, if you might be looking to take on any orphans.”

“Orphans?”

“Yes, I think they hand them out like pies, unfortunately. And it’d be silly not to ask, when the king comes to visit. I told her no, but then I thought… perhaps, a ward?”

Gabriel sighed, thinking of a frightened, lonely child ensconced at Camelot, raised by a governess and pages, with occasional visits from Gabriel when he might pat them on the head and remark on how tall they’d grown. He took no issue with the idea of helping orphans of course, he wasn’t a monster—he simply had no interest in raising one. The pressure to mold one into his future heir… it felt more like a curse than a gift.

“I don’t want a ward.”

“You know they’re orphans either way,” said Gwen. “And they’d certainly have a nicer time being orphans at Camelot than here. Or, at least… they’d have better clothes, and more to eat.”

“Why don’tyoutake on a ward?”

“Actually, maybe I will,” Gwen said tartly. “But not right now. I was only a child about half an hour ago.”

“What if you take one on, name him heir, and then he turns out to be… evil?”

“Nobody’s evil, Gabriel, that’s Father’s father’s ghost in your ear. I wouldn’t live your life according to the doctrines of a man who thought that a woman who looked vainly into a mirror would see the devil’s arse in the reflection.”

“What about Florian’s son?” Gabriel said suddenly.

“For a ward? No. He loves that boy, he’d never let him come. Or, at least, he’d insist on coming with him.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not just for a ward. For king. After I’m gone.”

Gwen laughed, then realized he was being serious. “You do know we just fought a battle to keep our line on the throne.”

“Well, no, we fought a battle to stop Lord Willard from violently killing us all to take our places. But he was family. Florian is family. And… I like him. What is he, third cousin? Something removed?”

“There’d be other claimants better suited, if we’re not going direct line,” Gwen said, tapping her mouth thoughtfully with her freckled fingers. “Our family in France… could be tricky.”

“He’d be the only one raised at Camelot and named heir as a child. And, realistically, there are always other claimants. Why not him?”

“Well,” Gwen said, getting up, much perkier than before,now that she had a problem laid out before her to solve. “We might as well ask anyway.”

“My son?” Florian said, watching both of them warily, as if this might be a prank. “King? Of England?”

“Yes,” said Gabriel. “Sorry, I don’t think I know his name.”

“Galahad,” said Florian, sitting down quite hard at the table. “His name is Galahad.”

“Oh, that’s great,” said Gwen. “Best of knights, Galahad.”

“But you…” Florian looked up at Gabriel beseechingly. “You might have a child, one day. And that would put my son in danger. Or you, Gwendoline… the king’s nephew…”

“I won’t,” said Gabriel awkwardly. “So that’s… not a problem.”

“And I…” Gwen’s face fell, the thought of Bridget and their uncertain future visibly passing darkly over her mind. “I suppose I might. Hard to know these things for certain. But I don’t think so. And we’d make sure your son had every protection.”

“This is all just theoretical,” Florian said, looking between them. “You’re not… demanding this of me?”