“Yes,” Arthur said, and Vera began nodding, too, trying to play along. He bit his lip to stifle his grin.
“It would be so wonderful if you would do that tonight. Would you? Would you please?” Maria’s twinkling eyes settled on Vera.
“Certainly!” she said with a shrug, still in the tumult of her scorched mouth, but to the pleasure of an effusive Maria and to wide-eyed surprise from Arthur.
Maria practically squealed as she hurried off to let whoever know about whatever Vera had agreed to.
“What is that—the Yule Carola?” she asked Arthur. “Is it, like, a reading or procession or … recitation?”
“That—I cannot believe that just happened,” Arthur said. “Erm, no. It’s a dance.”
“Oh,” Vera said. “Shit.”
The worry dropped from his face. He laughed. “That’s all right. We have all day for you to learn it.”
They didn’t quite have all day. Maria made it clear that they intended to give Vera a more traditional royal treatment to prepare for the evening. But they had plenty of hours before that would begin, even after Arthur said he would need time to gather a few things. Vera and Matilda shopped the market for a while, where she found enough treasures to purchase that her full hands made the decision to return to her quarters easy. She hadn’t been there long when Arthur returned with his hands full, too—carrying a lute.
Vera raised her eyebrows at him and sipped the drink she’d poured herself. “Are you musically inclined?”
But he didn’t respond in kind. His eyes darkened and locked on her goblet. They shot to the corner where his saddle bags lay on the table.
“Where did you get that drink?” he asked with the edge of panic in his voice.
“I—bought some wine, apple wine, while I was out with Matilda this morning.” Vera fumbled through her words. “Is that okay?”
The stiffness dropped from his posture. “Of course it’s all right.”
What the hell was that about? “Would you like some?” she asked. Apples were a Glastonbury specialty in Vera’s time, too. The whole morning had felt like she was holding the end of a string in the seventh century with a kite on the other end in her time. Special. Mystical. She’d bought the wine intending to share it with Arthur.
“Er, yes,” he said rather awkwardly. “Thank you.”
He shifted the lute in his hands to accept the drink.
“So.” Vera tapped the instrument with her index finger. “What’s with the lute?”
“Ah,” he said. “We couldn’t exactly have a musician come and play the song for us while you learned.” It was a good point. It would be strange that Arthur needed to teach her. “I asked Gawain if he could come up with a way for us to have music to practice in private for this evening.” He held the lute up between them. “It’s a brilliant enchantment.”
Arthur laid the instrument on a chair and plucked a single string. The note rang through the room, and as it was about to fade to silence, the lute began to play itself, a short and happy melody that repeated twice.
“Is that the whole song we’re to dance to?” Vera asked.
“That’s it,” he confirmed. “I’m not an especially gifted dancer, and even I think this one’s easy.”
Arthur undersold himself. He was a patient and pleasant teacher, calling out helpful reminders as they performed the movements. “Right hands together … Good. Switch to left, and—what was it you called this one? Fancy feet.” He chuckled. Vera had taken to naming moves. Names that got suspiciously sillier as the bottle of apple wine diminished.
“Oh fuck!” Vera stomped after she got the same move wrong for the third time in a row.
Arthur lay his hand on the lute strings and stopped the music. “It’s all right. Do you want to take a break?”
“Do we have most of it done?”
“We are so close,” he said.
“All right.” Vera nodded at the lute. “Let’s try again.”
But Arthur saw her smiling and paused. “What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s—nothing.”
