Page 99 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

Bridget had never really considered herself a damsel, and certainly not one in distress. She’d always been able to save herself—she’d trained to do it her whole life after all, and was the best person for the job.

Things were different this time. She couldn’t undo her bindings. There really wasn’t anything sharp in this room to repurpose as a weapon, and even if there was, she couldn’t get to it. Perhaps opportunity would come when the men and boys came back to fetch her—if they planned to take her on elsewhere, and not just leave her to rot in this room forever. Her imagination ran wild with possible tortures and sticky ends that might await her.

She’d never been afraid like this in her life without finding someone to fight about it.

But with all her options exhausted, she surrendered herself to her helpless reality, watching the light dwindle outside the window as she thought of Gwen, Adah, Neil. Could they possibly think she’d left of her own accord? Abandoned the quest? Taken Sir Hurst’s words to heart, and turned for home?

She’d told Gwen that she didn’t know her at all; now she could only pray that she’d been wrong, and listen for the sound of hoofbeats on the road.

Forty

It felt as if it took forever for the sun to set. The order of the round table stood concealed by the trees, the more seasoned knights well-versed in stillness, so that they disappeared entirely into the shadows. The fauna of dusk began to stir, owls calling softly, the faint scent of woodsmoke on the wind.

The royals had been told to take cover deeper in the woods. Gwen seemed on the verge of murder, agitated beyond comprehension, walking in small circles to keep herself busy.

When she came to stand next to him, Gabriel allowed himself a few breaths in and out, tryingnotto say it, before he said, “This is my fault.”

“No it’s not,” Gwen said immediately.

“We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the fact that I’m so unlikeable we had to put together a whole round table to try to fix it. And the Lancelot laws—people have been so angry—and that display in Wales, it was too much, I painted a target on our backs and now Bridget—”

“Is going to be fine,” Gwen said. “You know Bridget. Tough as nails. I feel sorry for the people who took her, they’re probably inside out by now.” But the slight shake in her voice betrayed her fear, and Gabriel felt utterly miserable as she walked away.

It had felt right, in Wales, he’d feltbrave—but it was all very well to make bold declarations of love from a position of safety, in a royal hall surrounded by guards. In the real world, it was still dangerous to openly be who you were—which, for people like Bridget, was unavoidable. She’d never been able to be anything other than exactly who she was, in plain sight, and weather whatever came her way as a result.

Gabriel had seen the crowds jeering, heard Gwen’s furious stories about disparaging talk at court and bitter slurs thrown in Bridget’s direction, and had assumed that because Bridget never seemed concerned, all was well.

But it wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. And now Bridget was God knows where, being subjected to God knows what, and they were all just standing around as time ticked away…

“Hey,” Arthur said in a hushed voice, putting his hand on Gabriel’s arm when he reached him. “Are you panicking?”

“Um,” Gabriel said, and then again, “um…”

“Gabe?”

He wanted to say he was fine and turn away, to find some quiet place to be alone until he could pretend to be in control again, but Arthur was looking at him with such genuine concern, and he’d promised to be better, so he said, “Yes, I’m… I am.”

“Can I help?”

Couldhe? No. Right now Gabriel didn’t want to talk to anyone, to be touched by anyone; even Arthur’s hand on his arm was too much. He took a faltering breath, then said, “I think… I’m sorry, I just need a moment by myself.”

He regretted it instantly. Arthur was going to hate him; to feel spurned and rejected, just as he had done last winter.

But Arthur just shrugged, and said, “All right. Let me know if you need me,” gave him a small squeeze, then let go.

“Really?”

“Of course, really,” Arthur said, with a small smile. “What did you think I was going to do? Pin you down and force you to endure my attempts at comforting you? If you need a moment, you need a moment. Just don’t take too long, we’re thwarting a kidnapping in ten.”

Gabriel couldn’t smile back at him, but he nodded, and Arthur left him alone as promised. He concentrated on his breathing, and the ground beneath his feet, and the feeling of the tree trunk next to him, until his chest was no longer bursting at the seams.

When it was truly approaching dark, Sir Hurst brought the round table together, plus Neil, and said, “Nobody is to make themselves known unnecessarily. We will trade cloaks with the attendants and squires to put off the moment of our discovery for as long as we can. I’ll go ahead with Sirs Leonard and Bowen, and if we decide a diplomatic approach is required, we’ll return to fetch you.”

“I’m not waiting here,” said Gwen.

“Your Highness, you’re too conspicuous,” Sir Hurst replied, shaking his head. “This is a small, quiet village. They’ll be suspicious the second we walk through the—”

“Hang on,” said Sidney. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”