Page 21 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

The table was rectangular.Extremelyrectangular, thought Arthur, as if perhaps the king were making a point of it.

‘I see you’re admiring the furniture,’ the king said, glancing briefly up from his papers.

‘Your majesty,’ Arthur said, remembering himself and bowing.

‘Yes, yes, hello, Arthur. Sit down,’ said the king. Faced with at least fifteen chairs and absolutely no idea what was appropriate, Arthur hovered for a moment before taking a seat about three places down from him, which felt a safe and respectful distance.

There was quite a long silence. Arthur, who distinctly remembered that the word ‘lunch’ had been bandied about, looked hopefully at the door to see if sustenance was forthcoming; it was not.

‘The last time you were here,’ the king said finally, ‘you set fire to something.’

Arthur grimaced down at his hands. ‘Yes. I mean – my apologies.’

‘What was it, do you recall?’

Arthur pretended to think about it. ‘Er – I believe it was your wife, sire.’

‘That’s right,’ said the king evenly. ‘It was only my son’s quick thinking that stopped her entire dress from going up in flames.’

‘It was actuallyGwendoline, your majesty, who lit the candle in the … Never mind,’ Arthur muttered, seeing the king’s expression and thinking better of his protestations.

‘There is a time and place for dwelling on the past,’ the king said, observing Arthur thoughtfully. ‘I firmly believe that we should respect what has come before, but be sure that we are always learning from it; to emulate the good, and acknowledge the bad, and always be striving towards progress.’

‘Right,’ said Arthur, not entirely sure where this was going. ‘I agree.’

‘I have heard from many sources – my daughter chief among them – that your general conduct since we last met has been less than exemplary. So much so that I am pleasantly surprised to find that in the few days you’ve been here, nobody I hold dear has been set aflame … yet.’

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but realised he had nothing to say in his own defence.

‘I have great respect for your family, Arthur, and I have been grateful for your father’s continued support since your mother passed on. She and I were old friends and allies, and I felt her loss keenly – although, of course, not as keenly as you yourself. It was good of your father to stand with me after she was gone, being of … well, more of Arthurian persuasion than anything else himself. The blood that runs in your veins made Camelot what it was—’

‘Not really,’ Arthur said, realising too late that he had interrupted, which was quite high on the list of things you weren’t supposed to do to kings.

‘Not—?’

‘I only meant – if there is any of Arthur Pendragon’s blood in me, sire, it’s diluted well past the point of consequence.’ To his surprise, the king let out a small exhalation of laughter at this.

‘Well. Your father has always been very proud of where he came from, however distant that line may be now. You are part of the fabric of England, and you will help write her future. Which brings me to the matter at hand.’ Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He always dreaded arriving atthe matter at hand. ‘Leave whatever battle you’re fighting in the past, Arthur. You will be the Lord of Maidvale. You will be my daughter’s husband. Do not make me live to regret the choice I made when Gwendoline was born. Because if I do, then make no mistake –youwill feel that regret tenfold.’

There were quite a few things that Arthur consideredsaying in response to this, but sanity prevailed. ‘Yes, your majesty. I … Thank you. I understand.’

‘Good,’ said the king. He pulled his papers towards him again, and Arthur sat awkwardly for a second, watching him. The king glanced back up, seeming mildly confused that he was still there. ‘You are dismissed.’

Arthur didn’t need telling twice.

When Sidney got back to their rooms, Arthur had been lying face down on his bed for the best part of three hours. After retiring from his meeting with the king, he’d heard a strange scrabbling at his door, and upon opening it had been baffled to find that the little ginger cat had managed to track him down; he watched as it slinked into his room and hopped up on to the bed for a nap, and had come to the conclusion that it had the right idea about how to spend the rest of the day.

‘Who’s this?’ Sidney said, poking Arthur on the shoulder and then gesturing at the cat.

‘My cat,’ said Arthur, as if this should have been obvious.

‘Right,’ said Sidney doubtfully. ‘What’s it called?’

Arthur turned his head and squinted at the cat, which was currently licking itself in unfortunate places on top of his silk pillowcase. ‘Lucifer.’

‘Good meeting then, was it?’ Sidney said, producing a bottle of wine and putting it down on Arthur’s desk. He took off his jacket, too, and then started relieving himself of a number of small daggers he liked to wear discreetly about his person.

‘The king thinks that if I tryreallyhard, I can become as great a man as my father,’ Arthur said listlessly.