Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-One
Bridget awoke to the sound of shouting, and was on her feet with her sword in her hand before Gwen had even lifted her head from the pillow.
They had retired to Gwen’s tent the night before, spent five minutes putting all the soft furnishings on the floor so that they had more space to recline, and then both fallen asleep, entwined, within thirty seconds of lying down.
“What’s happening?” Gwen said, lifting her head, her eyes bleary.
“Stay there.”
Bridget walked slowly from the tent, weapon at the ready, and then sighed and lowered it when she saw what was happening.
“Sidney Fitzgilbert,” she said. “Consider this: Shut up.”
“No,” Sidney said happily, and went back to banging tin plates together. “Wake up, everybody! Wake up, please. I have news.”
Everyone was slow to wake, except Gabriel, who darted not from his own tent but from Arthur’s, with a very guilty expression on his face. Sidney raised his eyebrows pointedly, easing off on the plates, watching as Gabriel went to a basin of water to splash his face.
“What in the fuck,” Sidney said to Bridget, who just shrugged. “Well, of course you don’t care, you’re not the one who’s going to have to pick up the pieces. Shit. Anyway. What was I saying? Wake up, please, everyone!”
“Sidney,” Gwen said, emerging in a dark velvet robe with her arms crossed over her chest, “if we’re not under imminent attack, I’m going to have you killed.”
“But—”
“Put the plates down.”
He did, reluctantly. It was too late anyway; the entire camp had emerged.
“I,” he proclaimed proudly, “am getting married.”
“Boo,” said Arthur, who had dark circles under his eyes and seemed reluctant to leave his doorway. “We know.”
“Excuse me. Don’t boo my nuptials, Art. That’s not on.”
“Sorry.”
“I am getting married,” Sidney said, raising his voice again to address the group at large, “in two days.”
“Fitzgilbert, excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about?” said Sir Leonard, who was famously not an early riser.
“I’d already asked Agnes to meet me at Harlech, because I miss her—”
“It’s been three weeks,” Adah pointed out.
“Because I miss her,” Sidney said again. “And after last night, it’s all become very clear to me. We must wed. At once.”
“Her parents are going to hate you,” said Arthur.
“A good point.” Sidney nodded. “And well made. But her parents hate me anyway.”
Adah laughed. “I thought you were making progress? You’re a knight now, boy.”
“Sort of. They still hate me in their hearts, but they begrudgingly approve of the marriage in principle. She doesn’t like them anyway. Any more naysayers? Say your nays, go on.”
“Who’s Agnes?” Bowen asked Sir Florian.
“They’re betrothed,” said Florian. “And I’ve heard enough about her that I can tell you the exact color of her hair in various lights, if you like.”
“Don’t mutter,” called Sidney. “Go on. Questions?”
“You cannot use the Prince of Wales’s castle as a wedding venue without asking,” said Sir Hurst. “It’s rude, and undiplomatic.”
“I’ll just have to ask him, then,” said Sidney.
Sir Leonard raised his hand. “If you’ve declared you wish to be married and taken her to bed, it’s too late. You’re already married, legally speaking. I nearly made that mistake myself, once.”
“First of all, not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t taken her to bed. Not technically. And secondly—even if we had, I want to have a party,” said Sidney. “Great. If that’s everything, then it’s agreed. Meeting adjourned.”
“It wasn’t a meeting,” Arthur grumbled, as people started to disband. “It was an ambush.”
Sidney fixed him with a very hard look. “I think you and I need to have a little chat, Art.”
“I’m busy,” Arthur said flatly, and then when Sidney followed him into his tent, he said it again, slightly shrill with panic.
“I thought we’d sleep in today,” Gwen said wistfully. “Perhaps I’ll see if I can snatch another … ten, twenty minutes.”
“Gabriel just came out of Arthur’s tent,” Bridget said. “Think he slept there.”
Gwen’s eyes went round as wheels. “Oh my God, okay, I’m awake. Let’s go.”
“Do I have to come with you?”
Gwen grabbed her by the hand and started physically dragging her along, as best she could. “Yes. You’re good at this now, and it’s good for your emotional intelligence training. Come on.”
Inside Arthur’s tent, Sidney was berating him, which didn’t seem helpful.
“Oh, great,” he said, when he saw them enter. “More people come to laugh at my pain.”
“Are you all right?” Gwen said, dropping Bridget’s hand and going to sit with him. “What happened? I know he’s my brother, and king or whatever, but if he’s being horrible, I’ll kill him.”
“He’s not being horrible. Also, I’d like to remind you all that I am one-and-twenty years old, and I don’t need a council of my peers to judge my every move.”
“I’m not judging you,” Sidney said. “I’m giving you gentle corrections. Like with a horse.”
“Sidney, you’re not helping,” Gwen said crossly. “Just tell us what happened. Unless … I wouldn’t want to know.”
“Maybe I don’t want to tell you,” Arthur said. They all waited. “Okay, I’ll tell you. He came to say he was sorry about how things ended between us, and to explain why he behaved the way he did, which was … I mean it was totally inexcusable, obviously, but at the same time I do sort of understand.”
“Are you serious?” Sidney gave him a shove. “It is inexcusable! But you’re excusing it!”
“No, I’m not, Sid—it’s not excusable but it’s explicable. He was having a very bad time! Anyway, he took full responsibility, as he should, and then he told me he still loves me.”
“Finally,” said Gwen.
“Gwendoline,” Arthur said, aghast. “Did you know? The whole time?”
“He didn’t tell me, but he didn’t have to. And it didn’t matter anyway! You can love someone and know you can’t be with them. How would it have helped, if I’d told you?”
“It might have.”
“No, it wouldn’t have, Arthur, and he’s been trying to dig for that same information about you for the past few weeks, and I’ve said nothing, because it wasn’t for me to say. However angry you are right now, imagine how much more angry you’d be if I’d casually told him you still loved him.”
“Ugh.” Arthur kicked at a table leg. “You’re so good at logic and reason. I hate logic! And reason!”
“So?” Sidney shoved him again, and Arthur shoved him back. Bridget was starting to find it slightly insulting that Gwen had thought she needed to witness this for her own emotional growth.
“So, he loves me. And … obviously, I love him. But I’m scared.
If he breaks it off with me again because he has too many things on his to-do list or he’s got a big meeting he’s nervous about, I don’t know what I’d do.
No, don’t look at me like that, Gwen, I know that’s not what it was about, I’m being facetious.
Let me be facetious! I’m having a breakdown! ”
“None of this explains why he was still in your tent this morning,” Sidney said, sounding more like a stern governess by the second.
“You can calm down, Sid, because we didn’t … We kissed. We fell asleep.”
“You shouldn’t even be kissing!” Sidney half shouted.
“Well, I don’t see how you think you’ll stop me, because nobody can. It’s even legal now.”
“Boys,” said Bridget. “Enough. This isn’t helping.”
Arthur drew himself up to full height, or as much as he could while still sitting down. “Exactly. Thank you, Bridget.” He wilted as the reality of his life seemed to hit him all over again. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We can’t tell you,” Gwen said gently.
Sidney snorted. “I can.”
“No, Sidney, you can’t.”
“I think it only works,” Bridget said suddenly, “if you can trust him again. And you’ll never know if it’s going to end in heartbreak this time, cos it might, and it might not even be anyone’s fault, really.
Stuff happens. That’s not the point. It’s …
do you trust that he’ll actually try his hardest, even if that’s not enough?
Even if you end up right back here a year later …
I mean, not here exactly, but here mentally …
Do you think he’ll have given it his best shot? ”
Everyone was silent for a beat.
“Leclair,” Sidney said. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Gwen squeezed Bridget’s hand, obviously pleased. “She’s right actually.”
“Yeah,” Bridget said, feeling more confident now. “I am.”
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, which was already fluffed into some quite interesting shapes, and sighed. “Maybe I’m the world’s biggest fool, but right now I think I do. Trust him. At least enough to try.”
Gwen launched herself at him and gave him a quick and violent hug, while Arthur complained mightily, not doing anything to try to fend her off.
“Something about experiencing horrific traumas together has made us overly familiar with each other,” he said, red-faced. “And I think it’s probably very unhealthy.”
“Mmm,” said Gwen, ruffling his hair fondly as she pulled away. “I think it’s great.”
Bridget accompanied Gwen back to her tent; the second they were inside, Gwen turned and kissed her, backing her into the tent pole. Bridget’s shoulders hit the wood so hard that she let out a small oof of breath.
“Sorry,” Gwen said. “That was just really good. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah?” Bridget might have been taken by surprise, but she caught on quick; she leaned back, widened her stance so that Gwen was bracketed by her legs, ran her hands down Gwen’s sides until she reached her waist, and held on tight.
“Yes. And just so you know, I trust you to try.”
“You do?” Bridget said, feeling something half forgotten spark in her chest. Victory. That’s what it was. A fight hard-won. Knowing that she’d put the work in, and succeeded. She might still be a mess in a variety of ways, but at least this wasn’t one of them. “You sure?”
“I am.”
Bridget brushed her thumbs across Gwen’s hipbones, marveling at the hard-softness of them, and then squeezed her into a tight embrace. “Thank you.”
Gwen closed her eyes, a smile playing about her lips. “You’re welcome.”