Page 39 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘Oh. Er. I wanted to say – that it was very brave, what you did at the tournament,’ Gwen said in a small voice. ‘I’mnot sure the Knife – Sir Marlin – in fact, Iknowhe wouldn’t have done the same for you. And I’m sorry you had to do it at all.’

Bridget nodded. ‘Because you could have said something.’

‘Well,’ Gwen said defensively. ‘It’s not actually that simple, but …’ Bridget was looking at her expectantly. Gwen sighed. ‘But, yes. I suppose … I should have said something.’

She was rewarded with a dangerous little half-smile. If she were an artist, she would have rushed home later that night and attempted to commit it to canvas; embroidering it would probably lose a lot in translation.

Bridget went to speak, and Gwen thought she might be about to receive some sort of praise – was, quite frankly, desperate for some acknowledgement that while cowardly, her behaviour had been redeemable in Lady Leclair’s eyes – but instead, Bridget’s face smoothed over into something more neutral.

‘Keep your head down,’ she said.

‘What?’ Gwen said, confused – but a moment later she was ducking her head as two young women descended on them.

‘This stuff tastes like pigswill,’ one of them said, handing Bridget a cup. She was tall and Black, with deep dimples and closely cropped hair.

‘Great,’ said Bridget, squinting doubtfully at the drink. ‘You needn’t have bothered then.’

‘Who’s this?’ said the other woman. She didn’t wait for an answer before handing Gwen a fresh cup of her own.She looked, Gwen thought, a bit like a mouse; colourless blonde hair and a fair, pointy face.

‘Er,’ said Bridget.

‘I’m – Winifred,’ Gwen said quickly, hoping she sounded convincing.

‘Adah,’ said the first woman, shooting her a grin.

‘Elaine,’ said the second. She had quite a lot of long necklaces on, and they clicked when she moved.

‘Adah works in the mews,’ Bridget said, ‘and Elaine in the kitchens.’

‘Oh,’ said Gwen. ‘The mews – with the falcons? How is it I’ve never seen you before?’

‘Well, I’ve only been there a year,’ said Adah, shrugging. ‘Took a bloody age for them to come round to the idea that I might actually be good at it. Why? Where do you work?’

‘Oh,’ said Gwen again. She could think of no logical reason why she’d have business in the mews if she didn’t house a bird there, and was struggling to come up with a lie. Door-cleaner? Or, perhaps – feather-collector? Was feather-collector anything close to a real job?

‘She … doesn’t work here. She’s my cousin,’ Bridget said. Both of the other women looked from her to Gwen and then back again – Bridget, dark-haired and muscular and brown-skinned, Gwen willowy and red-headed and white – and then seemed to accept this explanation in good faith.

‘Come to see Leclair crush the competition?’ Adah said, grinning as Bridget rolled her eyes.

Gwen noticed that they seemed very comfortable with each other. As Bridget knocked back the contents of hercup, her nose wrinkling in exaggerated disgust, Adah clapped her on the back and laughed – and then left her hand there, resting easily on Bridget’s shoulder blade.

Gwen was instantly, irrationally jealous.

‘Have you thought about what you’re going to say?’ Elaine said, and it took Gwen a moment to realise that she was being addressed.

‘Say? When?’

‘During the ceremony,’ Elaine said. ‘Your offerings. You offer Morgan le Fay a strength and a weakness. It’s all about … duality of self, you know? All your facets.’

‘Elaine,’ Adah said, ‘is very intoduality of self. And Morgan le Fay. And facets.’

‘Are you a cultist?’ Gwen asked Elaine; she smiled beatifically and nodded. ‘Areallof you cultists?’

‘No,’ said Adah and Bridget at the same time.

‘But – you know that about Leclair, of course,’ said Adah, raising her eyebrows. ‘As she’s your cousin.’

‘Distant cousin,’ said Bridget.