Gwen & Art Are Not in Love

by Lex Croucher

Comprehension dawned as she reached the end of the page and the entry denoting the enormous Biblical tapestry of Ruth and Naomi that currently hung in her chambers.

Lady Leclair was a problem. Looking at her felt a lot like wanting something.

“He’s not your suitor,” Bridget repeated, maintaining a steady eye contact that Gwen thought might perhaps kill her. She had no idea what to say in response to this. When Bridget removed her hand and stepped back, Gwen simply nodded awkwardly, and then continued up to the slope toward the drawbridge. She spent the rest of the day wondering what on earth it could have meant.

“What about me,” Bridget said in a low, amused voice that sent a thrill up Gwen’s spine, “is so particularly vexing?”

“Nobody else is ever going to care as much as you do about the things that you want, Gwendoline. So it’s up to you—you can put them aside forever, if you can live with that, or you can put on your big-girl girdle and demand more for yourself.”

“I’ve wanted … for a while, I’ve wanted something I don’t think I can have,” Gwen pressed on, desperation creeping into her voice.

“Congratulations, Your Highness— Ah-ah, wait.” Gwen had tried to get up, but Bridget kept her pinned at swordpoint. Gwen narrowed her eyes; Bridget responded by raising her eyebrows and letting the end of the sword make gentle contact with Gwen’s chin, lifting it ever so slightly as Gwen met Bridget’s gaze and tried to hold back a smile. “Stay down, and I’ll show you how to get back up again.”

“There’s no separating the two,” Gabriel said quietly. “I am England.” “And I’m your sister’s fiancé,” Arthur said meaningfully, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve all got our crosses to bear—” “She’s not your cross,” Gabriel said sharply.

I think you’d rather try to make yourself into an ideal than accept that you are a real person, because it feels safe.

“Come on. You must have some idea about how you’d like to live your life. Very deep down, somewhere under about sixty layers of ink and parchment, you must have a beating heart.”

Behold, kissing hath recently taken place betwixt this lusty knight and this passing good woman.

of his mother, who was less a person and more a feeling,

Of all the disturbing sights the world had to offer, Sidney crying had to be the worst of them.

“I don’t even like him,” Gwen said eventually, and Bridget laughed quietly. “He grows on you.” “Like mold,” said Gwen. “Like one of those plants that strangles trees.”

“You wielded Excalibur.” Bridget looked guiltily down at the sword in her hand. “Not on purpose. Just had to—borrow it.”

“To be truly brave, first you must be afraid—and to be afraid, you must have something you cannot bear to lose.”