Read Online The Future King: Logres by M. L. Mackworth-Praed - Free Book Online Page A

for my tenth birthday. It tasted
good. Strong, bitter. We still have some somewhere, I think. Not much, but my
grandmother says it’s worth its weight in gold.’
    ‘It sounds nice. The only other thing I tried was a cigarette, and
that was disgusting. It was worse than the wine. I don’t know why people smoked
them.’
    ‘Nicotine, of course. It’s a bit like alcohol—addictive and bad
for you.’
    ‘Well, it may be bad for you, but I’m having another one. You?’ She refilled
his cup before he could object, and then the walls rushed past them in a blurry
lurch as she grabbed his hand and tugged him into the living room, lured by the
loud music. The unexpected crowd forced her to stop suddenly. Arthur wrapped an
arm around her to prevent them both from falling.
    ‘Sorry!’ he exclaimed.
    Laughing, Gwenhwyfar turned towards him, willing him closer with her
eyes. ‘At least we’re even now. I’ve bumped into you, and you’ve bumped into
me.’
    Someone squeezed through the door and pushed past them. Arthur slid
closer. ‘You’re really pretty, Gwen,’ he breathed.
    He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it. His expression darkened
with lust as she looked up at him, her eyes on his lips, her head tilting as
her drink slopped forgotten to the floor. Eagerly he stooped to catch her
half-open mouth.
    Their lips never met. Arthur’s drink tipped all over Gwenhwyfar’s
jeans. She gasped, the soaked fabric sticking to her skin. Charlotte had barged
into them.
    ‘Oh my God!’ she said loudly. ‘I am so sorry .’
    Arthur shook his hand and wiped it on his leg. Suddenly Charlotte was
trying to brush off his wet trousers, false concern on her otherwise gleeful
face.
    ‘Really I am. I totally wasn’t looking where I was going. I haven’t ruined your clothes, have I?’
    ‘No, it’s fine,’ Arthur responded stiffly, pushing Charlotte’s hands
away as they batted dangerously close to his crotch. He looked to Gwenhwyfar
apologetically. ‘Sorry, Gwen.’
    ‘Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault, Arthur.’ Gwenhwyfar’s eyes narrowed at Charlotte, who responded with a
thin smile. ‘Where’s Emily?’
    ‘Getting cosy with Bedivere.’
    Arthur frowned. ‘What? Where?’
    ‘Upstairs. Why, want to join them?’
    He left them without retaliation, striding off urgently through the house.
Gwenhwyfar moved to follow him but Charlotte caught hold of her arm. ‘Hattie’s
looking for you,’ she informed her haughtily. As she let go, white finger marks
lingered in her paling skin. ‘She says she needs your help. She’s upset about
something. She told me to come and get you.’
    Gwenhwyfar resisted, eager to follow Arthur and see if he was all
right, but the concern suddenly present in Charlotte’s eyes forced her to
reconsider. ‘Fine, where is she?’
    ‘Downstairs toilet.’ She was pushed in the right direction.
Gwenhwyfar strode as Arthur had done, driving angrily through the busy house.
When she couldn’t locate a single bathroom, she tried to find Charlotte again.
She had vanished. There was no sign of Hattie, either.
    ‘Gwen!’
    She was pleased to see a familiar face. Bedivere hurried towards her,
his hair a mess, his clothes dishevelled. His grin split from ear to ear and
when he came to her he crushed her in a surprisingly firm hug.
    ‘Good to see you! Have you seen Arthur? I’ve got to tell him
something!’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘What have you got to tell him?’ she shouted.
    He shook his head vigorously. ‘I can’t tell you! It’s a secret,’ he
slurred. ‘Have you seen him?’
    ‘No,’ she responded, fighting to get her breath back. He smelt
heavily of Emily’s perfume. ‘Not since he went to look for you. You might have
just missed him.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you seen Hattie?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Hattie! You know, my friend.’ He shook his head. Emily appeared at
the far end of the room. ‘Never mind!’ she called to him, and then he was off
again, hunting for Arthur.