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“Yes, well.” Lancelet let out a huff. “You looked as if you were being morose and depressing and needed a good interruption.”
My lip quirked. “I see. Thank you, then, I suppose.”
“Don’t mention it,” Lancelet said brusquely.
“Any cockroaches on the menu tonight?” Draven inquired seriously, turning towards Hawl.
The Bearkin growled menacingly. “I ought to say yes. It would serve you right.”
“So that’s a no then?” Draven’s eyes twinkled with mirth.
“I should never have told you and Gawain about their nutritional value. You’ll never let a day go by without mentioning insects in my cooking,” Hawl grumbled. “When I do include them, you can be sure I’ll only mention it after you’ve had second helpings and not before.”
“I’d be all right with that,” Draven said consideringly. “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
He winked at me and I rolled my eyes.
“I’m fairly sure my entire life disproves that saying,” I said ironically.
Lancelet snorted.
“Shall we play a good drinking game after supper?” Gawain suggested, coming to sit down on a log by the fire. “Although, Guinevere, I suppose you won’t be able to join in.”
The former High Priestess had emerged from her tent where she had been resting and now came to stand near the fire.
“Not at all,” she said. “I’d be pleased to.”
“To drink?” Lancelet sounded so startled, I nearly laughed. “But you’re...”
“Not the High Priestess any longer,” Guinevere reminded her. “And not bound to any of the rules of the temple.”
There was silence around the fire. One might have heard a pin drop. I know I heard at least one cricket chirp.
I held very still, afraid of what I might find if I dared to look at Lancelet’s face.
“This is quite new territory for me,” Guinevere went on, as if she hadn’t noticed the awkward stillness.
“Drinking, you mean?” Gawain joked. He caught my eye and winked. I cringed, hoping he wasn’t about to go any further with his teasing.
Guinevere laughed. She had a very pretty laugh. I was sure Lancelet was well aware of it. “Oh, no. As a king’s daughter, I am quite familiar with drinking. Not so much personally, but then we always had wine served with every meal.”
I tried to imagine Guinevere before she had come to Camelot. A young woman who believed she was being wed to the powerful king of a neighboring kingdom to strengthen alliances between nations. She had been bartered by her family like property and had not chosen Arthur herself. But then, that was nothing new for our two kingdoms.
It would change, however, with our generation. There was no reason to continue such cruel and antiquated traditions.
“You’ve never drunk to excess is what you’re saying,” Gawain clarified. “Well, my dear Guinevere, there’s a first time for everything. And you know what they say about fae wine...”
“No, what’s that?” Guinevere asked with surprising innocence.
“Don’t tell me you’ve actually brought fae wine, Gawain,” Draven interrupted.
“Why not?” Gawain replied, unruffled. “For times like these...” He glanced at me, then briefly at Lancelet. “Well, you know what they say about wine and life...”
“What’s that? Raise your glass high tonight because tomorrow you might not have a hand to hold it by?” Draven quipped.
I elbowed him. His jest seemed uncomfortably macabre after what we’d witnessed that day.
But I could see what Gawain was trying to do. Bring levity to a party of travelers that had already become uncomfortably subdued. There was a long way to go before we reached the darkest part of the road. It wouldn’t do to let our spirits sink already.
