Ari readied herself for the argument, preparing her already obsessed-upon points: that this might be the only chance to buy enough time to stop Merlin’s backward aging before it was too late. To get home. And since Ari’s death should be a good long while from now, they’d have decades before Nin, you know, collected on Ari’s cursed body and soul.
But this was Gwen she was talking to.
“I can see why you think this is an option, Ari,” she said cautiously. “But it’s not. Do you remember when the Administrator tried to give us everything we wanted… in exchange for you? What did I say?”
“We don’t deal in people.”
Gwen nodded as if this proved her point.
“It’s the only failsafe we’ve got, lady.”
“Then we’ll figure out better options.”
Ari smiled; this was her love, her Gweneviere, who rode the diplomacy of any situation like a stallion she’d broken herself. Gwen’s unbraided hair fell between them and Ari twirled her long, crimped locks between two fingers. She realized, for the first time since they’d crashed in the Middle Ages, they were alone.
Truly alone.
Ari stared at Gwen’s velvet brown eyes, at the small dots of sweat on her nose, and the red, red promise of her lips. “I miss you,” Ari said, touching Gwen’s shoulder, running her hand down her arm and up again. Gwen’s touch moved to the only armor-free places, Ari’s neck, her cheekbones, her mouth.
“Did we forget how to do this?” Ari asked after minutes of such light stroking and paused need that her insides were melting.
“I read that sex causes labor… sometimes,” Gwen said softly.
“So, you’re saying we should go to Avalon and have sex?” Ari’s voice had dropped to a warm, nervous tone, but she wasn’t complaining.
“Yes, but we should make out before we leave.”
“Perfect.”
Ari’s mouth found Gwen’s like the swell of two great waves meeting in the center of a deep blue sea. Between Gwen’s belly and Ari’s armor, only their faces touched, but it was enough. Gwen’s skin was Ari’s one true love. She cradled Gwen’s cheeks, ran her fingers into her hair, and tasted each of Gwen’s lips before relearning that Gwen’s tongue pressing against hers poured liquid heat straight through her.
“Well, that’s fucking canon,” Ari said when they finally stilled, their foreheads pressed together. “Lancelot and Gweneviere, unstoppable.”
“According to our Old Earth history classes on Lionel, Lancelot and Gweneviere were the first recorded love story where a woman chose her love. She’s horrifically punished for it, of course, but all the stories before that were about men claiming wives. And then after, the stories became about men and women who fight for their love against all odds.”
Ari smiled. “So you’re telling me Old Earth’s boring romantic repertoire of ‘cis boy plus cis girl equals love forever’ is because two ladies from the future crashed into the past and broke their terrible mold?”
Gwen nodded, her face still so close that her nose skimmed Ari’s cheek. “Despite everything that’s happened, we were always supposed to come here,” Gwen said, kissing her lightly. “To learn that we are the unstoppable ones.”
Gwen didn’t go into labor in a fit of screams or panic. It was more like running into an uncharted asteroid field. Nothing, nothing… and then nothing but hard, spinning obstacles as far as the eye could see.
The next afternoon, they were deep into their travels toward Nin’s lake and the entrance to Avalon. Gwen rode on the back of the horse, a little too silent, while Ari led him along. She had taken off her armor and piled it in a blanket on the back of the horse. Walking through the Middle Ages in nothing but her pants and a shirt felt bold and dangerous. And stunningly light.
At one point, Ari stopped for a drink of water from her leather bladder and gazed back at Gwen. She was sweating, focused on something Ari couldn’t see, riding her pain.
It was already happening.
“Do you know how long you have?” Ari asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. They were still hours from the lake by Ari’s rusty geographic calculations.
Gwen shook her head.
“Okay, so we keep going,” Ari said. “Do you need anything?”
Gwen shook her head once more.
And they kept going.
When the lake appeared on the horizon, along with Camelot in the far distance and the woods between the two, Gwen whimpered loud enough to spike alarm. Ari stopped the horse and went to Gwen. Water streaked with blood had flowed from Gwen, over the horse’s side and into the dark soil of the road.
Gwen was looking down at it in utter alarm. “It’s supposed to be clear. I read that. It’s supposed to be clear…”
Ari pulled her down from the horse, her own pulse a storm of nerves. “We’re going to walk now, lady. On Ketch, the mothers always walked through the last of the pain. The transition period is supposed to be—”
“Don’t say it.” Gwen inhaled sharply. They walked with their arms around each other, and even though the terrain was mostly downhill, their pace was epically slow. Gwen had to stop so many times. She gritted her teeth and squeezed Ari’s forearms until Ari was sure that they’d bruise. Her long hair was plastered to the skin on her neck, and Ari gently peeled it away and blew a cool breath across her skin.
Gwen suddenly doubled over, leaning low, gripping Ari by the shoulders. She swore gorgeously and then came back when the contraction was over to glare at Ari, her lips brilliant red and her face glistening. “Mistake. This whole thing was… a really, not-good mistake.”
Ari tried not to laugh. “Yeah, how’d it even come up in conversation with my brother? I can only imagine how he’d react.”
Gwen gaped at her. “Are you asking me about Kay? Now?”
Ari lowered her voice, keeping Gwen’s gaze firmly locked with her own. “Yes, now.”
“This is a poorly chosen distraction, Ara.”
“You bet.” Ari looped an arm around Gwen,
