“Isobelle, are you listening?” Gwen’s voice broke through her thoughts, low and intense.
“Um, what?” Isobelle dropped Gwen’s hand like it had scorched her. Her heart was beating like a wild thing trapped within thecage of her ribs. She hid her hands in the folds of her skirts, hoping Gwen hadn’t noticed they’d begun to shake.
She’d daydreamed about kissing people before, even if she’d never done it when it counted. But those dreams hadn’t forced their way into her mind like this, pushing through the doorway and taking over, insisting they be heard.
And those people... they hadn’t been girls. Why was that? Had nobody before Gwen been therightgirl, or was it just that everybody expected her crushes to be boys, so she’d never looked at anyone else?
If someone kisses me, Gwen had whispered,I want it to be because theyneedto.
“Isobelle,” Gwen said again, and a bolt of sheer panic went through Isobelle, zipping down her spine and nearly sending her legs buckling.
“Yes,” gasped Isobelle. And then, steadying her breath and lifting her chin, she made her voice sound normal through sheer effort of will. “Yes, Gwen. What is it?”
Gwen paused, studying her carefully. For a moment, Isobelle was certain Gwen had seen the same imagined embrace she had. That she could read in Isobelle’s eyes that something had just shifted, irrevocably, undeniably. Then, with a shake of her head, Gwen continued. “I don’t think we should just dismiss that woman.”
“Nobody’s going to dismiss her,” Isobelle said, marshalling her attention toward the conversation at hand. “Someone will make sure she’s taken care of.”
“No,” said Gwen, her jaw twitching. “I mean, I think we shouldlistento her.”
Isobelle blinked. “You’re saying you think that woman sawa dragon?” she asked. Then, feeling she had to clarify: “A real dragon?”
Gwen produced one of her charming scowls, eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t know what she saw,” she said. “But that’s the whole point. How terrified must she have been to do something like this? Did you see them hauling her away? You can be killed for assaulting someone of noble blood. Why would she ever risk something like that, unless she already had nothing to lose?”
Isobelle forced herself to dismiss her electrifying fantasy and properly bring her mind to bear on the problem. “I’ll grant something distressed her,” she said eventually. “But I struggle to believe she saw a dragon. The reason all you knights are forced to charge at one another is that thereareno dragons anymore, and haven’t been for over a century. But—” She held up a hand to forestall Gwen’s reply. “Olivia will find out what’s happening. I can guarantee she’s already on her way to see what that woman has to say. She loves a mystery.”
Gwen was quiet, brooding on that. Isobelle did not reach up to deal with the curl that kept falling across the other girl’s brow. She was quite proud of her restraint.
“You’re sure?” Gwen said eventually.
“I am,” she promised. “We should wait until we hear from her. Then, if you feel we need to do something, we’ll try to think what that might be. It will take her some time, though. Even Olivia can’t walk through walls. I don’t think.”
Across by the stage, a group of musicians had started up, trying to get the festival back on track.
Gwen nodded. “We’ll wait for Olivia. Thank you for not laughing at me.”
“I would never,” Isobelle replied, mildly outraged. Then, fairness compelled her to continue: “Well, not over anything that really meant something to you. For now, everything that can be done is being done.”
Gwen nodded slowly, nibbling her lip. Isobelle made herself look away, out at the bonfires, and so she was taken by surprise when Gwen reached out, sliding her fingers down Isobelle’s arm to find her wrist in the dark, and then her hand, giving it a squeeze.
Sparks ran all the way from Isobelle’s fingertips, up her arm, and straight to her heart, as best she could tell. It was intensely distracting.
“Would Lord Whimsitt notice if you and I didn’t come back right away?” Gwen asked. “There’s something I want to show you, if you’re up for a walk.”
Isobelle considered the question. Then she considered the sheer impossibility of taking herself back to the picnic rug to pretend everything was normal, when everything had changed.
She considered letting go of Gwen’s hand.
She did not.
“If he does, the girls will cover for us,” she said, squeezing Gwen’s fingers in return. “Show me something.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Don’t bring it all the way undone...
Gwen had had to drop Isobelle’s hand to sidle single file past a cart making its way late to the festival. Her impulse had been to reach for Isobelle again, but she’d hesitated. Taking her hand in the first place had been a gesture to tell Isobelle to trust her. Keeping gentle custody of it afterward could easily be dismissed as absent-mindedness.
To take it again now would be to reveal that Gwen simplywantedto hold her hand.
