Gwenhwyfar thought she was insane.
‘In the meantime we’ll just have to lay low, pretend that we’re not afraid, act as if nothing’s happened.’ Her fingers toyed with the gold necklace around her throat. ‘Then they won’t suspect us.’
‘I don’t need you to tell me what to do,’ Gwenhwyfar said stiffly, rising to her feet. Llew barked by the back door.
‘I wanted to ask if you’d be a part of it,’ she dared.
‘I think you should leave.’
‘We can’t let them win, Gwen. Doesn’t it make you angry that they can just lie like this?’
‘You can’t prove they’re lying,’ she countered, ushering her towards the door.
‘No, but they can’t prove that they’re not.’ Llew yapped again and then proceeded to expel a long series of whines.
‘You should go—I have to let Llew out.’
‘You won’t even consider it?’
‘I’m not interested.’
‘But—’
‘Go, would you? It’s too dangerous. You need to leave before my parents get home. I don’t want to lie to them again.’ Gwenhwyfar pushed past Isolde and opened the door.
‘Just think about it, that’s all I’m asking,’ she said, clutching her bag.
‘Leave, now.’
She slammed the door shut the moment Isolde was through it. As Llew whimpered again from the kitchen Gwenhwyfar let out a cry of vexation. Striding to the back door with hard stomps, she ripped it open and let him loose into the murk.
The Oxymorons
The winter air nipped at his lips. Hanging within a pale sky, the sun bled meekly through the thick fog that sat heavy on the ground. Arthur sucked in a deep breath, feeling the bitter moisture chill his lungs. He was glad to be outside. As he blew on his hands for warmth, his thoughts turned to the holidays ahead, anticipating a quiet Christmas with his grandmother. He eyed the old entrance to Wormelow, hoping to catch Gwenhwyfar on her way out from class.
‘Arthur?’ Morgan appeared through the double doors. She was wearing a thick woollen hat that folded over her ears, and her chestnut hair was neatly plaited in a single braid. ‘Marvin’s looking for you. He wants to know if you’ve joined that political party.’
He didn’t appreciate being pressured. ‘Not yet, I was going to do it this weekend. I’ll let him know tonight.’
‘But I told him I’d come and get you,’ Morgan objected.
‘Well, he’ll just have to wait, won’t he? I’m meeting Gwen for break. I promised I’d sit with her.’
‘Oh.’ Morgan’s thick eyebrows met in a frown, and she looked back to the building. ‘Well, you might have just missed her. I saw her with Viola. They were talking about meeting Lance in the canteen.’
‘I hear you’re taking life drawing classes?’ Arthur smiled politely.
‘Actually, I’m meeting Percy for break. I usually sit with him now.’ She sent him a brief smile. ‘And his friends. They’re really nice.’
‘I’m sure they are.’
‘I think you’d like them.’
‘You do?’ Morgan nodded. Arthur searched past the cars and bikes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gwenhwyfar.
‘Percy’s taking me to Lance’s gig tonight,’ Morgan said, her breath clouding about her lips. Her squared face brightened. ‘You know, the one in the warehouse?’
Arthur frowned, turning to her suddenly. ‘What about the club?’
‘I’ve already asked Marvin if we can miss it. He doesn’t mind.’
There was an awkward silence. ‘So how’s it going with Percy?’
Morgan coloured. ‘Good. He’s really nice, don’t you think?’
Despite himself, Arthur nodded. ‘Marvin seems to like him.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘So you won’t be at the club? That’s fine. I’m sure Gwen, Bed and I will cope without you for one week.’
‘Actually, Bedivere’s not going either.’ She smiled up at him apologetically. ‘Neither is Gavin. We’re all going to see Lance play.’
‘Don’t tell me it’s cancelled?’
‘Not if Gwenhwyfar’s still going.’ She gave him a look, and Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what it meant.
‘Well, does Marvin know that we’ll be there, at least?’
‘Ask him,’ Morgan shrugged, turning her head away to gaze across the car park. The second bell rang. ‘I’d better go; Percy will be waiting for me. I’ll see you on Monday?’
Arthur nodded, but said nothing. His mouth had gone dry.
‘Want to walk with me?’
‘Actually, I think I’ll go and see Marvin,’ he excused, offering an empty smile. ‘Have fun tonight.’
‘I will.’ Grinning, Morgan left him on his own and joined the crowd of students streaming out of Wormelow. Arthur waited for a few moments before walking on behind her, mindful to keep out of sight.
* * *
Determined that she shouldn’t be left on her own, Arthur managed to meet with Gwenhwyfar, but only just. Lancelot annoyed him with every word he uttered, but wasn’t unpleasant enough to warrant getting into an argument. Throughout Psychology he found himself wondering why Morgan’s attachment to Percy bothered him, eventually settling on the theory that he merely felt she could do better. When he arrived at the benches by the mobile classrooms for lunch to find Lancelot and Gwenhwyfar talking amicably, his irritation increased.
‘Hey,’ Gwenhwyfar beamed. Arthur dropped his bag and sat down opposite them. ‘We were just talking about Vi. I got a text from her—apparently the shoot’s going really well.’
‘Good.’ Arthur unpacked his lunch. The air was bitter, but now that the fog had cleared the sun warmed him slightly. ‘Have you decided if you’re going to speak to Ravioli yet?’
Gwenhwyfar shook her head. ‘I’m not sure if I should.’
Arthur frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t think it’ll do any good. Even if Ravioli does take it seriously, Hector’s not going to admit to threatening me. We can’t prove it was him. It’s just speculation.’
‘Well-founded speculation,’ Arthur argued.
‘I know. But Lance thinks it’s all just talk.’
‘Does he, now?’
‘Yeah,’ Lancelot confirmed. ‘They used to say this sort of thing all the time, Edward and that lot. Nothing ever came from it then, either.’
Arthur appealed to Gwenhwyfar. ‘I still think it would be worth mentioning it to a member of staff. Even if you just tell them what he did at Lance’s party.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Lancelot dismissed. ‘We’ll make sure that Hector doesn’t get anywhere near her. Won’t we?’
Arthur struggled to keep his temper in check. ‘And how are we going to do that, exactly?’
‘It’s not hard. We just make sure Gwen’s never alone.’
He didn’t know why, but this upset him. ‘What—here, there and everywhere? What about when she’s walking home? With all his friends involved?’
Lancelot shrugged. ‘I can handle them.’
‘What’s your plan?’ Arthur bit. ‘Violence?’
‘It’s worked for me so far.’
Arthur looked to Gwenhwyfar. ‘Can you believe this? It’s that sort of attitude that made Hector threaten you all in the first place.’
‘What sort of attitude?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, already scowling.
‘The kind where people gallivant around smashing each other’s teeth in!’
‘I’m still here,’ Lancelot growled.
‘Unfortunately,’ snapped Arthur.
‘I said I’d handle it.’
‘So I heard.’
‘I can protect her.’
Arthur rose abruptly. ‘She’s not yours to protect!’
Lancelot sprung up to match him. ‘Well, someone has to do it. You seem to be clueless.’
‘Clueless about what—? Beating people to a pulp?’
His mouth distorted to bare his teeth. ‘In a way.’
‘If you’re offerin
g yourself as practice, Lake, I’d be more than happy to learn.’
Gwenhwyfar snapped. ‘Stop it! Just sit down, the both of you! You’re behaving like children.’
Arthur stared stubbornly at Lancelot. It seemed as if he didn’t want to sit first, either.
‘Sit!’
‘You should probably listen to him, Gwen,’ Lancelot remarked, snidely. He sat down after Arthur did. ‘Arty knows best.’
‘I don’t want to tell the principal, all right? This is my choice. It doesn’t mean I’m never going to tell someone. If I see Hector again, or if he comes even the slightest bit near me, I’m going straight to Ravioli—and the police—immediately. I’m not stupid.’
Huffing, she picked up her bag and separated herself from the table. When Arthur rose to follow her, he realised that Lancelot did too.
‘No,’ she scolded. ‘I need some time to think by myself. The last thing I want is you two bickering around me. It’s insufferable.’
They sank back down as she stormed off to Badbury. Arthur glared at Lancelot. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered.
‘Berk,’ Lancelot retorted, gathering up his bag. Determined not to be the one left on his own, Arthur grabbed his belongings and jumped up as Lancelot did, striding back up to Wormelow. Gwenhwyfar would want to tell if it weren’t for Lancelot, he thought blackly. What was she afraid of? Abruptly he resolved to talk to her about it over the weekend. If she still refused he would tell the principal himself first thing on Monday, before Hector made good on his word.
* * *
The gathering dusk had sucked all light from the sky. It was colder now, cold and dark, but the streetlights half-lit the way home with their weak homage to the stars. She caught him just outside the school gates; his dark curls restlessly twisting in the wind.
‘Lance!’ Gwenhwyfar hurried towards him as he waited, the cold stealing her breath. ‘I was hoping I’d run into you.’
Her enthusiasm threw him. ‘You were? Why?’
‘Want to walk home together?’
‘Where’s home?’
‘Near Potters Park. Do you know it?’
‘Of course I know it,’ snorted Lancelot. ‘Let me guess, you live on Upper Well Street? In one of those massive houses?’
‘No,’ she smiled, ‘on High Oak Lane. It’s a few streets away.’ The two walked together. ‘Actually, compared to High Oak, Upper Well is a bit of a dive.’
‘All right, all right, I get it. You’re a rich snob,’ Lancelot smiled. ‘At least it’s kind of on the way to mine. I’ll drop you off.’
Gwenhwyfar pulled her hat down to better cover her ears. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Like I’m telling you, Miss High Society. My house is probably a shed compared to yours. I’ll bet your bedroom is as big as the whole of our downstairs.’
‘It is not,’ Gwenhwyfar gasped, pushing him on the arm.
‘How do you know?’ He maintained his balance effortlessly. ‘God, you’re not still stalking me, are you?’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing now. I’m stalking you.’
‘Lucky me.’
‘Shut up, Lake.’
His lips curled up into half a grin. ‘So how’s Arty?’
‘Arthur,’ she corrected, gazing at him. ‘You know how he is. He’s fine.’
‘Still having a wobbly over telling someone about Hector?’ he teased.
‘He’s just worried. To him it would make sense.’ She huddled further into her coat. They were quite far from the school now, and turned another corner on the approach to Potters Park. ‘It’s a shock to him, that’s all. He didn’t know.’
‘You probably should have told him,’ Lancelot agreed. ‘But I can see why you didn’t. He had a proper hissy fit when you said you didn’t want to tell the Nutcracker.’
‘That’s because you wound him up,’ she huffed.
‘He wound himself up,’ Lancelot dismissed. ‘Besides, he’s right. You probably should listen to him. He is your boyfriend, after all.’
Gwenhwyfar scowled. For a long while they walked in silence. They passed the park and came into the smarter neighbourhoods, with cleaner streets and tidier buildings, and tree-lined avenues that were naked for the winter. She found herself thinking about the day that Lancelot had asked her out, and wondered if he still had feelings for her.
He knew that she was looking at him, she could tell. There was a hint of self-awareness in his countenance. ‘What?’
She tugged her eyes away. Now he was staring at her. His arms were bare, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She wondered how he could endure the cold. ‘Nothing.’
‘No, what?’
‘Nothing!’ she expelled. Frowning, he looked away. ‘It’s nothing, really. I was just wondering.’
‘Wondering what?’ he asked. ‘Gwenhwyfar?’
She couldn’t get out of it now. ‘I probably shouldn’t say.’ She bit her lip. ‘Do you like Emily?’
She almost wished she had gone with what was on her mind. Lancelot surveyed her as if he were a wolf assessing a kill, but his eyes held amusement, as if he suddenly knew her deepest secret.
‘Do I fancy Emily?’ he repeated. His eyes cut through her. ‘Why?’
His question was much too loaded. ‘No reason.’
‘No?’ he asked.
Gwenhwyfar flushed. ‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, strengthening. She looked him in the eye. ‘So you do like her.’
His eyebrows only arched. ‘Jealous?’
She shot him a sarcastic smile and ploughed ahead. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
They were approaching her street now. Lancelot was looking around. ‘So this is your neighbourhood? It’s nice.’
‘I hate it,’ Gwenhwyfar remarked.
‘Hate it? Why?’
She shrugged, coming to a drawn out halt. ‘I just do.’ They stood for a moment in an awkward silence.
‘So I guess you’re not inviting me in, then.’
‘I can’t,’ she smiled. ‘I have to get ready.’
For a moment he seemed to brighten. ‘For the gig?’
She shook her head. ‘For Arthur. We’re going to Marvin’s club.’
His eyes darkened at this. Turning his head away, he exposed the line of his neck. Gwenhwyfar’s eyes trailed his throat, slinking down to the collar of his shirt. ‘Sorry.’
‘For what?’ he muttered, bored.
‘For not coming tonight. I really would have loved to see you play.’ She didn’t know what to say next. ‘Lancelot?’
He turned to look at her. Biting her lip, she stepped towards him. He was still, his whole body taut. She could smell his shower gel from P.E., could detect his muskier undertone masked beneath. He was frowning. He was always frowning.
‘Thanks. For walking me.’
He stared at her.
‘And good luck. For tonight.’
She left first, and glancing over her shoulder offered a wave too casual for the way she felt. Lancelot lingered for a while, but when she looked again he had turned away, and soon vanished onto the adjoining street.
* * *
The venue was a large hall in an estate connected to larger warehouses, with a temporary bar that wouldn’t sell to those under twenty-five. The Oxymorons weren’t headlining, but their set was in the perfect hour when the crowd was at its freshest. The air was thick, and Tom and Lancelot’s foreheads glistened under the spotlights. The crowd lapped up the unusual music, dancing to it nonsensically. Lyrics were sparse but interlinked so expertly that they became one with the sound.
Bedivere couldn’t admit to liking the style, but he did appreciate that, musically, they were skilled. Gavin stood next to him, his huge hands clapping out a booming applause, while Emily was on his right, screaming and whooping between each number and the next.
‘Did you see that?’ she shouted breathlessly, eyes wild. ‘Oh my God, they’re amazing.’
He caught her as sh
e fell into him, helping her find her feet. Someone had been selling solution on the sly.
‘What do you think? Do you like them?’ she asked, brushing her hair away from her flushed face.
Bedivere nodded and said he did.
‘Sorry?’ she yelled.
‘I said, yes—they’re good!’
‘Great!’
Gavin bent down towards him and shouted in his ear. ‘I’m going to the bar! Want anything?’
He shook his head, already dizzy. Gavin leaned across him.
‘Em—?’
‘No thanks!’ Nodding, Gavin moved off to the bar. ‘It’s a shame Gwen couldn’t make it!’ Emily said, as the next song started. ‘Where did you say she was again?’
‘Out with Arthur!’ His throat hurt. Shouting over the sound of the bass was too much. ‘On a date!’ he lied.
‘I’m sorry!’
‘What?’
‘I said I’m sorry! For what I did!’
He felt his face heat up rapidly, and he was suddenly grateful that it was dark. He didn’t like being reminded of Tom’s party; still felt like an idiot for falling for what had ultimately been a practical joke. ‘Don’t worry about it!’
She smiled up at him and nodded, and then waved her arms as she danced to the beat. Bedivere, however, found that he could not move on.
‘Why did you do it?’ he yelled.
‘Do what?’
‘Kiss me!’
She looked at him as if he were violating some social norm. ‘It was just a kiss,’ she shrugged. ‘Didn’t you like it?’
‘Of course, but—’
‘Then what’s the problem?’ She sent him a pink smile. ‘I said I was sorry about all that.’ She applauded mid-song and then turned, searching. ‘Where’s Gavin? He’s taking ages!’
‘Still queuing at the bar,’ Bedivere said, unsatisfied. He caught sight of Charlotte some way off in the crowd. Edward Cooper pushed past them, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. ‘So you like Lance?’
She ignored him and looked to the stage.
‘Did you really sleep with him?’
‘I said I did, didn’t I?’ she remarked. ‘Anyway, what’s it to you?’
The Future King: Logres Page 43
