Free The Future King: Logres by M. L. Mackworth-Praed Page B

though. It shouldn’t be too difficult here. It’s a
rich neighbourhood.’
    ‘You’ll come with me?’ she asked hopefully.
    ‘Of course I will.’
    ‘Thanks.’ They set off at a brisk pace. Gwenhwyfar kept her phone
clutched in her fist, just in case her father called. ‘And thank you, for
saving me earlier.’
    ‘Viola was the one who smacked him round the head with a lamp,’ he
confessed.
    ‘Still, if you hadn’t been looking out for me…’ Once again her eyes
threatened to overflow.
    ‘Not everyone calls them Charlotte and Emily, you know. We call them
the Furies. Emily’s the Avenger and Charlotte’s the Jealous. You know,
Trisiphone and Megara.’
    Gwenhwyfar’s frown told him that she didn’t.
    ‘From the legend?’ Gavin tried. ‘They torment sinners in Greek
mythology. Except everyone’s done wrong, in Megara’s eyes.’
    She eyed him curiously, and smiled. ‘Who came up with that one?’
    ‘Arthur. It was brilliant, because they had no idea what we were
talking about. They still don’t.’
    ‘Arthur?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, surprised. ‘Are you friends with him then?’
    ‘I used to be.’ Gavin shrugged. ‘He’s all right, but he keeps his
distance and I keep mine. Lance hates Arthur and usually reminds everyone else
to as well.’
    ‘Lance…?’
    ‘Yeah, he’s suspended.’
    ‘You mean the idiot that slashed the principal’s tyres?’
    Gavin snorted. ‘He didn’t do anything. Lyndon framed him. He knew
Lance would get blamed for it.’ They turned onto a new street. ‘Lance and
Arthur used to be best friends, until the Furies started a rumour about Lance
and a girl Arthur liked. It got pretty nasty. Arthur ended up spending all his
lunches in Mr Caledonensis’ room. Until Bedivere arrived, at least.’
    ‘What was the rumour?’
    ‘That he’d kissed her, or slept with her, or something crazy like
that. It’s complete bollocks. Lance and Ellie denied it, but Hattie insisted
she’d seen them together. That was when Hattie became Alecto, the un-resting.
The third of the Furies.’
    They fell into a long silence.
    ‘If you still liked Arthur,’ Gwenhwyfar began, ‘why didn’t you stay
friends with him? Why side with Lance?’
    ‘Same reason you wouldn’t speak to Viola when you were friends with
Emily,’ he quipped. ‘To fit in.’
    Gwenhwyfar scowled.
    ‘Besides,’ Gavin muttered, ‘Arthur doesn’t associate himself with
thugs.’
    ‘You’re not a thug.’
    ‘Tell him that.’
    Suddenly, he stopped her. They were at the corner of one of the wider
streets, hidden by the shrubbery skirting someone’s front garden. ‘What?’ asked
Gwenhwyfar. Gavin shushed her.
    ‘Watchmen.’ He pointed to the end of the adjoining road. Gwenhwyfar
saw two men dressed in the grey uniform they shared with their Welsh
counterparts. ‘They’ll check to see if we’ve been drinking. They’re always
looking to give out penalties round here.’
    He waited with his arm barring her for a minute, but the moment the
Watchmen had turned the other way he hurried quietly across the street. Mindful
of her heels, Gwenhwyfar tiptoed after him as quickly as she could.
    ‘Come on!’ he whispered, waving her over. ‘Seriously, faster would be
good.’
    ‘I’ve never had a penalty before,’ she admitted as she joined him.
    ‘You’re lucky,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve heard stories.’
    ‘What stories?’
    ‘They like to do something they call a forfeit, if they don’t feel
like logging a penalty. It’s a complete abuse of power. It can be pretty nasty.
Especially if you’re a girl.’
    Gwenhwyfar felt her stomach turn. ‘Isn’t that just a rumour?’
    ‘Rumour has to come from somewhere,’ Gavin argued.
    They rounded another bend and were suddenly on the approach to
Emily’s house. More sirens keened in the distance. Gwenhwyfar faltered.
    ‘Oh God, maybe I should just leave it?’
    ‘Why? They’ll freak if you show up after what they’ve done. It’ll be
worth the