Arthur was feeling quite confused about the situation he found himself in. The sight of Gabriel wielding a sword certainly wasn’t helping matters.
A need to be near-constantly entertained was, he believed, one of his few personal failings; up until very recently, the most entertaining thing about Gabriel had been that he was an oddly quiet and reluctant royal.
Now he was a person who played nursemaid to crows, gripped his sword like an expert, and kissed people in the middle of the night before promptly running away. Watching him raise a sword now with a form that must have been ingrained through years of practice, he was imagining the lean muscle that must be hidden somewhere beneath Gabriel’s clothes.
It was all a bit distracting.
‘You’re meant to hit him with it,’ Sidney called.
‘Yes, thanks, Sid,’ Arthur said. To his right, Gwen and Bridget were sparring again; the sound of Bridget urging her on, giving little corrections and light ribbings that seemed to Arthur to be very flirtatious, just made the silence between him and Gabriel all the more pronounced.
Arthur raised his sword. His bad wrist buckled slightly; he tried to compensate by tightening his grip.
‘All right then,’ he said. ‘Shall we—’
Gabriel had already advanced, his every movement by the book; Arthur managed to parry, but it was clumsy, and a few seconds later Gabriel had tapped his swordpoint lightly against Arthur’s shoulder.
‘Oh.’
Gabriel’s expression was completely neutral; Arthur raised his arm just in time as he lunged again, and deflected weakly. ‘Shit. This isn’t the sort of thing you look like you’d be good at, you know. It’s misleading.’
‘Why?’ Gabriel asked quietly.
‘Well. You’re built for reading,’ Arthur said, his words punctuated by the sound of blade against blade. ‘Reading – in a darkened room – until covered in a fine layer of dust.’
‘I’m good at that too,’ Gabriel said, attempting to knock Arthur’s sword completely from his hand; Arthur blocked him, then pushed in closer, forcing Gabriel’s weapon back towards him.
‘I know you are,’ Arthur said in a low voice. ‘Among other things.’ Arthur distinctly heard Sidney make a quick, strangled noise behind him.
Gabriel immediately pushed away from him, threw his sword down on to the cobblestones with a clatter and walked away.
‘Guess you win,’ said Sidney. Bridget and Gwen had stopped fighting to watch Gabriel leave; Gwen seemed to be making a meal of one of her fingers as she frowned after him.
‘Your highness?’ the Master of Arms called, looking rather disappointed.
‘I’ll go,’ Arthur said. ‘Sid, why don’t you fight Lady Bridget for me while I’m gone, hmm?’ He pressed the training sword into Sidney’s hand and took off at speed after the retreating prince.
Gabriel had much longer legs than Arthur; he had made it as far as the south entrance courtyard by the time Arthur caught up.
‘Going for a spontaneous walk?’ he asked breathlessly. Gabriel stopped, but didn’t turn to look at him. ‘Or … a ride?’ They were almost to the stables; as Arthur watched, a stable hand led a handsome palomino out of a stall to be tacked up in the yard.
‘No,’ Gabriel said, sounding a thousand miles away.
‘I think we should talk,’ Arthur said decisively. Gabriel didn’t agree with him, but he didn’t leave, either; Arthur reached for his arm, intending to steer him towards the stables. Gabriel shied away from Arthur’s grip, but followed him anyway.
They located an empty stall. It was cool inside and smelt sweetly of hay and horse; Arthur closed the door firmly behind him and then realised somewhat comically that he had to close the top half too, leaving them in near darkness.
‘It’s always sheds, isn’t it,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘What?’ said Gabriel.
‘Don’t worry,’ Arthur said. ‘Um. Hello.’
‘Hello,’ Gabriel said warily. There was quite a long silence, accompanied by the sound of horses snorting and stamping their feet in neighbouring stalls. ‘You wanted to say something?’
‘Yes,’ Arthur said, neatly sidestepping a pile of manure and crossing his arms. ‘You keep running away.’
‘Do I?’ Gabriel said, shifting from one foot to the other and looking determinedly at the door.
‘That’s twice in as many days,’ said Arthur.
‘I don’t know if that counts as a pattern.’
‘You’re trying to do it now,’ Arthur pointed out.
‘Well, I’m standing in horse manure, and I’d rather I weren’t,’ Gabriel said, suddenly sounding irritated. ‘What do you want from me, Arthur?’ He seemed to realise immediately just how charged this question was, because Arthur saw him go bright red, even in the relative darkness of the stable.
‘I mean – nothing, really. I just thought – you seemed a bit torn up about last night. And there’s no need, honestly. It’s not a big deal. I’m not expecting a proposal of marriage. I am, famously, otherwise engaged.’
‘A proposal of …’ Gabriel trailed off, glancing at Arthur and then quickly away again.
‘I’m not going to tell anybody,’ Arthur said. ‘Obviously. So whatever crisis you’re having right now, there’s no need.’
Gabriel looked at him properly, face screwed up in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Rarely,’ Arthur admitted. ‘But right now, yes.’
‘Maybe it doesn’t seem like a problem to you,’ Gabriel said, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, ‘but I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. And it is a problem. Just because you’re not …’
‘Heir to the throne?’ Arthur supplied. ‘No. But that’s not what I’m talking about.’
‘It’s not?’
‘No. I mean – yes, there is the slight issue of things like marriage and succession, if ladies don’t take your fancy—’
Gabriel huffed incredulously. ‘The slight issue?’
‘Listen,’ Arthur said impatiently, ‘I’m not trying to pretend there aren’t … pitfalls. But what I’m saying is, you can’t decide how you feel about who you might spend your evenings kissing –’ Gabriel winced at this and looked away again – ‘because of what it means for England. You have to decide based on how it feels … to you. Surely? I mean, I don’t know, I’m just improvising here.’
‘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.
‘Well. All right. But you know, you can be king and still have what you want. There are plenty of ways to—’
‘I am not having this conversation,’ Gabriel said, crossing to the doors and wrenching them open, having none of the trouble Arthur had experienced in closing them. ‘Just forget about it, Arthur. It doesn’t matter. It was … Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.’
‘Okay,’ Arthur said, left alone with the gold-flecked dust motes that were spiralling all around him, already knowing he would do no such thing.
When he got back to the training yard, Gwen and Bridget were gone. Sidney actually seemed to have fallen asleep against the wall; the borrowed sword lay forgotten at his feet.
Arthur leaned in as close as he could to Sidney’s face without touching him and then unleashed a wordless yell; Sidney awoke instantly, cracked his head against the wall with a muffled ‘Christ!’, and then slid down until he was sitting.
‘Didn’t go well?’ he said peevishly, rubbing the back of his head and wincing.
Arthur sat down next to him. ‘No.’
‘Thank God you don’t really like him then.’
‘No,’ Arthur said, sounding unconvincing even to himself. ‘I don’t. But he intrigues me. And he feels like one of my own, you know? I ought to help. Tell him he doesn’t have to be a lost lamb, stealing kisses in secret and then agonising over them afterwards.’
‘Ah,’ Sidney said wisely. ‘You just want him to hold you like a baby crow.’
‘Oh, go to hell. It’s not like that.’
‘I mean, for one thing, I don’t really believe you,’ said Sidney. ‘And for another – don’t you think you should meet people where they are?’
‘I like to meet people where I am,’ said Arthur, as they got to their feet. ‘I’m already there. Saves on the commute.’