The Future King: Logres (35 page)

The screen seemed to grow and brighten as Gwenhwyfar stared at it
thoughtlessly, her vision blurring the garish colours. Her father said nothing
after that, and for a while the three of them sat in silence, watching as they
were shown countless reels of how bad things were abroad. Gwenhwyfar always
felt unsettled when she watched the news, as if someone was sitting next to her
whispering in her ear that she should be very afraid.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she declared sometime after eleven, aching and
utterly exhausted. She kissed both her parents goodnight and scratched Llew’s
head on her way up to her bedroom. She ended up checking if there were any
varied reports about what had happened on the Internet, but all news websites
were running the same angle.
Free
Countries
’ site hadn’t been updated, either. She sent Arthur a quick text
to see how he was, and after a final check to be sure that her injuries really
were just scrapes and bruises, clambered into bed. It didn’t take her long to
drift off, and mercifully, her sleep was dreamless.

Casanova

The final weeks of
October billowed with blustery
winds and indecisive rain. Marked by limited celebrations, Halloween slipped by
with small excitement. November appeared with a calmer front, though clear
skies and pale sunshine sapped all warmth from the atmosphere; a cold briefly
remedied by the blazing bonfires of Guy Fawkes. The Round Table had a week off
for half term, and as school commenced Gwenhwyfar continued to divide her time
between Arthur and her friends. She hadn’t spoken to Emily since the protest,
who, avoided by Charlotte, haunted the grounds like a lonely ghost.

It was the second Saturday in November, and they were gathered at
Tom’s house. Tom, Gavin and Lancelot were playing a shoot-out game on the media
station. Now bare-skinned and convinced that make-up ruined her complexion,
Viola was talking about her latest castings.

‘They were horrible,’ she told Gwenhwyfar, ignoring the spitting
machine guns on screen. ‘It took me an hour to get to each one, and there were
at least a hundred other girls. They literally just flicked through my book and
took a card. It felt like such a waste of time.’

Gwenhwyfar was thinking about Arthur. Despite the weekly experience
of The Round Table and the social glue born of the Mobilisation March, he was
still reluctant to spend time with her friends.

‘And I had to walk for them, too. I mean, I don’t know if I’m doing
it right. How am I supposed to cross my feet in five-inch heels? Stick my hips
forward and my shoulders back? No wonder so many girls trip up on the catwalk.
Put a hole there and they wouldn’t see it.’

‘I’m sure you did better than you think,’ Gwenhwyfar said, combing
her fingers through her hair. ‘You always say that you can never tell with such
things. You just have to wait to hear from them.’

Viola huffed. ‘So how did your date with Arthur go?’

‘Good. We ate out.’

‘Did he walk you home?’

Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘He always does.’

‘And…?’ Her eyebrows rose expectantly. ‘Did anything happen?’

It was the same question she’d been getting for a while now. As she
didn’t really know what Viola meant by “anything”, she shook her head and
glanced to the shooting game. All three boys were absorbed.

‘No,’ she sighed.

‘Well, that’s probably good. It’s only been a few weeks, after all.’

‘More than a month, actually.’ Gwenhwyfar glanced across to
Lancelot’s hard profile. He was sitting at the other end of the sofa. ‘That’s
not the issue, really.’ Her voice sunk to a murmur. ‘I mean, we haven’t even
kissed yet.’

‘You haven’t?’ Viola frowned at her. ‘What, you mean at all?’

She shook her head. ‘Well, I suppose I’ve kissed him on the cheek,
but that’s it. I’d have thought that if he wanted to kiss me, he would’ve tried
it already. He’s had plenty of opportunities.’

‘Maybe he doesn’t know that you want him to?’ Viola tried, propping
her chin in her palm.

‘He must know that I want to,’ she murmured, her cheeks colouring. ‘It’s
not like it’s not obvious. It’s almost as if we’re just friends.’

‘Maybe he’s gay?’

Both girls glared at Lancelot. Tom sniggered, and Gavin shot his
avatar on screen.

‘What? I’m only saying. It’s not like he ever did anything with
Ellie, and she was hot.’

‘They kissed,’ Viola argued, indignant.

‘Yeah, but they never did anything else.’ Additional sniggers
emanated from Tom. Viola pushed him with her foot with a sound of disgust.

‘That was in year seven, Lance. Don’t be gross.’

‘I would’ve,’ he boasted, looking at Gwenhwyfar.

‘I thought you did,’ Tom said.

‘Shut up,’ he snapped. ‘Besides, that’s my point. He didn’t touch
Ellie and he hasn’t had a proper girlfriend since. He must be gay.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Viola remarked.

‘I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it,’ continued Lancelot,
‘I’m just saying there’s no point waiting for him to kiss you. It’s unnatural
to still be a virgin at his age.’

‘I’m a bit worried by how much you seem to know about Arthur’s sex
life, Lance,’ Gavin droned.

Lancelot turned a furious shade of red. ‘How come you’re defending
him? Do you fancy him or something?’

Gavin snorted. The girls both rolled their eyes.

‘It’s not like you’re any younger than him,’ Gwenhwyfar pointed out.

‘So?’

‘It’s not like you’ve had hundreds of women.’

‘Who says I haven’t?’

‘You’re telling me you’ve slept with someone before?’ she asked
sceptically.

‘Yes, actually,’ he snapped. ‘Hundreds.’

‘Hundreds?’ She smiled. ‘How many, exactly?’

His deliberation didn’t last long enough. ‘Five.’

‘Five isn’t hundreds, Lance,’ Viola pointed out.

‘I thought you meant times I’ve done it, which would be hundreds.’

‘Who?’ Gavin asked.

‘What?’

‘I said, who have you slept with?’

This approach seemed to throw him. ‘He doesn’t know! He’s making it
up,’ Tom jeered.

‘Of course he’s making it up,’ Viola agreed. ‘All boys do.’

‘Boys who feel they have to brag about such things, at least,’
commented Gwenhwyfar. She hadn’t thought her opinion of Lancelot could sink any
lower; but once again he had surprised her.

‘Emily,’ he blurted, unthinking.

‘What?’

‘Emily. I did her, and Charlotte too. And that girl at that party we
went to last year. Can’t remember what her name was.’

‘No
way
did you sleep with
Emily and Charlotte,’ Gavin scoffed.

‘Why would anyone?’ Tom remarked.

‘Even if you did, that’s only three. Who else?’ Viola demanded.

‘Juliet, in sixth form,’ was his next boast. Gavin and Tom sounded
impressed.

‘Who’s that?’ Gwenhwyfar asked.

‘Just some girl everyone fancies,’ Viola remarked, voice sarcastic.
‘There’s no way. I know her. She wouldn’t touch Lance in a million years.’

‘Four,’ Gavin prompted.

‘And Morgan,’ Lancelot finished, confidence boosted by his acclaim.
‘We grew up together. I was her first.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Gwenhwyfar muttered, suddenly upset. ‘Claiming
you’ve slept around just to make yourself sound cool. Well, it doesn’t sound
cool. Now I’m just worried about catching something off you.’

His sneer hurt her more than she expected. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not
that
desperate.’

‘I think I’m going to check your story on Monday,’ Viola commented,
twisting a lock of her dark hair. ‘I’m pretty sure Emily, Charlotte, Morgan and
Juliet would love to be reminded of such an intimate moment.’

‘Even if you do ask them they won’t admit it.’

Gwenhwyfar felt she’d had enough. ‘Why not?’

‘Two of them had boyfriends. Why do you think?’

‘Now I know why Arthur’s convinced you betrayed him,’ Gwenhwyfar
snapped. ‘Your attempts to make yourself feel like more of a man in comparison
to him are just sad.’

Her words seemed to stir a firestorm within him, and the look he gave
her was cutting. Suddenly the conversation shifted. Tom’s interest had
dwindled.

‘So what are we doing for your birthday?’

Lancelot relaxed into the sofa. ‘Nothing: that’s what.’

‘Oh come on, we have to do something. You never celebrate your
birthday.’ Viola jumped up to retrieve her juice from the coffee table. ‘It’ll
be fun.’

‘How about we just drink ourselves silly?’ Lancelot suggested.

‘We should throw a party. Tom’s found the perfect place. It’s an
abandoned warehouse that’s not being demolished for at least another five
weeks. The business went bust and they want to convert it into flats.’ Viola
explained. ‘We could spruce it up with lights.’

‘I know someone who could DJ,’ Gavin suggested.

‘We could turn it into a ball,’ Viola ploughed on, enthused. ‘Invite
the whole year.’

‘The electrics are all still working,’ Tom added. ‘All we’d have to
do is sweep it out.’

‘We should make it fancy dress,’ gushed Viola.

Gwenhwyfar began to thaw from the preceding argument. ‘Fancy dress
sounds pretty cool,’ she admitted. ‘It’ll be good to take our mind off things.’

‘I dunno,’ Lancelot fretted. ‘What if no one turns up?’

‘Of course people will turn up!’ Tom chortled. ‘And if they don’t,
we’ll have all the solution to ourselves.’

‘Is solution such a good idea after what happened last time?’
Gwenhwyfar reminded him.

‘It’s not like Hector or the Furies will be there.’

‘Can I bring a friend?’

‘Who, Arty?’ Once again Lancelot was observing her with that less
than friendly look in his eyes. She returned it in kind.

‘Well, he
is
my boyfriend,’
she bragged.

Lancelot shook his head roughly. ‘Sorry. My party, my rules.’

‘If Arthur can’t come, then I’m not coming either,’ Gwenhwyfar
threatened. Her tactic was less effective than she’d hoped. Lancelot merely
shrugged.

‘Gwen has to come,’ Viola demanded. ‘And she can bring whoever she
likes. Just like you can bring whoever you like, whether it be Morgan, Emily,
Charlotte or Juliet.’

Everyone laughed. The tension compressing the room suddenly lifted.
Pleased she’d got her way, Gwenhwyfar leant her head back on her splayed palm.

‘How about a masquerade?’ she suggested. ‘Everyone has to wear a
mask. Then we won’t know who’s there.’

‘Not like those horrible things we had to wear for that protest, I
hope?’

‘No,’ Gwenhwyfar said, looking to Gavin. ‘Cool ones. Halloween masks,
that sort of stuff.’

The idea seemed to be well liked by all. There were murmurs of
approval, even a nondescript shrug from Lancelot.

‘What’s the dress code?’ Viola enquired.

‘We could make it formal.’ Gwenhwyfar pictured her prospective
outfit. ‘When’s your birthday again?’

‘Next weekend,’ muttered Lancelot, as if she should already know.

‘That’s enough time for people to get organised. I’ve got a dress I
can wear.’

‘And I’ve got a Venetian mask you can borrow,’ Viola offered.

‘At least if the police make an appearance identifying people won’t
be easy,’ grinned Gavin.

‘Exactly,’ Gwenhwyfar beamed, bubbling with excitement. It was
settled. Lancelot’s sixteenth birthday party was going to be a masquerade.

By the time she made it home the smell of supper was wafting
throughout the house. It was already dark outside, a curse of the colder
months, though thanks to this her father had given her a lift from Tom’s. Llew
greeted her enthusiastically and soon she was upstairs winding down in the
confines of her bedroom. She hunted online for masks, and decided that she
would definitely go for one that was Venetian. She was texting Arthur when her
computer bleeped at her. As her eyes rose to meet the screen her heart froze. It
was
Free Countries
.

Gwenhwyfar looked down to her phone, calmly finishing the message
before pressing hard on
send
. She
could hear her blood pulsating through her ears, and it throbbed in her head.

Her eyes slunk sideways to the envelope sitting on her desk.

She drew a steadying breath.

Yes, I’m here. I received the pack.

Not yet.