Gwen laughed. “That, too.”
They both looked as Jenny began singing. Oh, it was so beautiful. Isabel didn’t know the song, but she knew a voice like no other when she heard it. All clapped at the end, as well they should have.
Wow! Impressive didn’t even begin to describe it.
“She’s good!”
“In many ways. She sings to me during bathing.”
“Wow, lucky you!”
“Indeed.”
“Speaking of which, just what did you say to the staff?” Isabel asked.
“I am certain I know not what you mean,” Gwen said, swirling the wine in her goblet.
“I am certain you do.”
Gwen smiled, then sipped at her wine. “I merely mentioned how thrilled I was for Mary and James, and would it not be shameful if others did not share in their joy this night.”
Isabel nodded. “Very tactful. And effective. That was such a nice thing to do.”
“’Twas the very least I could do.”
“This is not the wine talking, this is me.” Isabel said. “I really enjoy and admire you, Gwen. When you step up, you really step up.”
Gwen’s eyes welled. She glanced around. “This is not the wine talking,” she said softly, “this is me. I understand, completely, why Arthur is so taken with you.”
Okay, it was Isabel’s turn to blink back tears. “No matter what the future holds, I hope we will always be friends, Gwen.”
“That is my hope as well. Perhaps even one day pinky-finger friends.”
Isabel nearly coughed up a mouthful of wine. When she finally managed to swallow, she said, “How do you like Lance’s hair?”
Gwen’s eyes went straight to her lover. “He does look exceedingly handsome, does he not?”
If you preferred the young pretty-boy types. Isabel figured that tastes differed drastically. She thought Arthur, with his rugged and oh-so-handsome good looks, was so much sexier. But at the moment she was thrilled that her idea of attractive and Gwen’s were from completely different planets. “He does, indeed,” she said, diplomacy being the better part of not getting her hair pulled out.
“And how about James?” she added.
“Who knew?” Gwen said.
“Mary did. She saw past all of that to his heart. But truly, he’s a very attractive giant.”
Gwen giggled. Then she said, “Even Mordred appears more handsome.”
“He needs a few years to grow into his looks, but he really lucked out in the gene department. I look at him and see Arthur at his age.”
“What did you do, Isabel?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something happened. Until recently he seemed to live to torture his father. But suddenly they are laughing and embracing. I saw them even exercising in the sword sport together just this morn. I just have this feeling that you had something to do with this transformation.” She paused, sipped. “And perhaps something to do with that knee injury.”
“Perhaps,” Isabel said.
They glanced at each other and both started giggling. Isabel raised a fist, pinky finger out. Gwen stared for a moment, then mimicked with her own. Then they hooked up.
“This means the world to me, Isabel.”
“And to me.” Isabel laughed. “Is this the strangest friendship ever?”
“Very possible,” Gwen said. “But rather fun, do you not think?”
“No one would ever believe it.”
“Which is why it is fun.”
A banging sound had them both nearly jumping out of their slippers. They looked over, and Arthur was standing on one of the long tables, getting attention by clanging a utensil against his stein.
“Please, may the happy couple step forward?” he boomed.
Isabel looked up at him and her heart nearly exploded. He was such a larger-than-life presence, so big and strong and, good gods, handsome. And he loved her. He desired her. He wanted to hold and protect her.
Maybe over time she’d be able to get him to be just a little less chauvinistic, but it really did, at this moment, strike her to the core all that he was, all he represented. He was a king, yet he was no dictator. He treated all equally. He valued every person at Camelot, treated them as family. And all here, as far as she had seen so far, adored him and admired him in return. Wonder of wonders, he loved her. She had no idea why, but then again she was not about to question it.
She could barely breathe just staring up at him.
“Please, have all of the servants come join us,” he said. “They have worked so hard to make this night a success.”
There was a moment of silence as Mary and James stepped up to the table and the staff filed in from all parts of the castle.
Arthur glanced around, his eyes squinting. “Well, I know that they are here, but at the moment, I cannot find them. But, James and Mary, you very likely have been too excited and busy to take note, but the queen and the countess worked as hard as all to make this night as memorable for you as is possible.”
Cheers nearly broke Isabel’s ear drums. She grabbed Gwen’s hand and they squeezed. What a strange alliance.
James rumbled up atop the table as well, and Isabel thought all held a collective breath, wondering if there was a table on earth that could hold him. Kudos to the carpenter, this one held under his weight.
“I, too, would care to thank everyone,” James said. “And I, too, thank the queen and the countess for their hard work to make my new life with my beautiful wife, Mary, start with such great joy. Our king may not ken that I saw all that you did, but I indeed was witness to it. And Mary and I cannot even begin to show our gratitude.” Big, large, no, gigantic James had to wipe his eyes. “Our everlasting appreciation. Is Camelot not the greatest kingdom of all?”
Again, the cheers nearly shook the rafters. Actually, Isabel thought, did castles have rafters? Exactly what were rafters, anyway?
“And should there be a greater king to serve than Sir Arthur?”
Again, deafening cheers.
Arthur looked like he wanted to pound his stein over James’s head.
“James, you are my best mate,” he said, “but I fear if you do not climb down from this table, the both of us will crumble in a sea of splintered wood.”
“To King Arthur!” James said, before he not so elegantly began to climb down.
“To our king!” the entire hall cheered.
“Criminey!” Arthur said. “This is about our newlywed couple! Let us keep the eye on the prize, everyone.”
“What?” Gwen said.
Isabel looked down. Arthur was picking up way too many phrases she happened to blurt out at any given moment.
“Mary and James,” Arthur said, “here are the door keys to your cottage. A very, very happy night for you both.”
“Oh, sir, that is a wonderful gift.”
“Where is the queen?” Arthur asked. “Queen Guinevere, please come forward to tell them the rest.”
Gwen again squeezed Isabel’s hand. “This should be you.”
Isabel shook her head. “No, you are the queen, Gwen. Go!”
Gwen walked forward, and Arthur stepped down from the table to greet her. They made such a beautiful couple, Isabel was ready to shoot them both.
Gwen smiled as she took center stage, her crown glistening atop her head.
