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

photo.’
    ‘But I don’t even want to look at them.’
    ‘You just have to pretend like you don’t care, that it doesn’t bother
you. That’s the thing that annoys them most, trust me.’
    He was right. She could do this, she knew she could; but that didn’t
make the prospect any less terrifying. Her sudden lack of courage only upset
her further. She drew a deep breath and quickly walked up to the house. A
glance down the drive told her that Gavin was still there, eyeing the street
apprehensively. She rang the doorbell. Emily’s mother answered.
    ‘Gwen?’
    ‘I’m here to pick up my stuff,’ she blurted, ‘I have a headache.’
    Confused, Mrs Rose stepped aside. ‘Of course! I’m sorry, Emily told
me you’d gone home already.’
    ‘I forgot my bag,’ she excused, her heart pounding.
    ‘Oh. Well, the girls are upstairs.’
    She didn’t bother to knock when she came to Emily’s bedroom. The
surprise on their faces would have been amusing had she been there for revenge,
and she envisioned how much more dismayed their expressions would be if she had
brought a police officer with her. Unfortunately the fantasy didn’t last long.
    ‘Where’s my stuff?’ she snapped. Emily opened her mouth. Silence. It
was funny how scared they all looked. Gwenhwyfar’s dark eyes cut through the
room. Her bag had been opened, and many of her belongings were strewn across
the floor.
    ‘You went through my bag?’ she hissed in disbelief. Stomping around
the room she whipped everything up. She noticed her hoodie was missing and then
saw it in the bin by Emily’s desk. Pulling it out from under the soiled make-up
wipes, she eyed it furiously. It was ripped. ‘Which one of you hippos did
this?’
    The girls all looked to one another for help. High on adrenaline and
fear, Gwenhwyfar grabbed her sports bag and stuffed everything into it,
swinging it onto her shoulder. Charlotte’s dress was hanging on the door to the
wardrobe. She couldn’t resist.
    ‘No!’ screeched Charlotte, as Gwenhwyfar tore the skirt from the
bodice. Satisfied, she rushed out of the room and flew down the stairs. Emily
squealed for her mother. Gavin was waiting for her in the drive. When he saw
her running, he fled too.
    ‘What did you do?’ he demanded as they charged down the street then
stopped for breath round the corner. ‘You trying to get us clipped?’
    ‘You should have seen their faces—horrified, all of them. It
was like I was some sort of ghost.’
    Gavin looked over his shoulder, as if he half expected to see the three
Furies flying after them. ‘Did you vanquish them?’ he panted.
    ‘No. I vanquished Charlotte’s meringue, instead.’

 
    * * *

 
    Gwenhwyfar waved to Gavin as the car turned and then set off down the
road. She knew that her father was plucking up the courage to discover what she
had been doing out on the street with a strange boy, but kept her eyes fixed
ahead in the hope that he might not ask. After a few minutes of silent driving,
however, Garan tried his luck.
    ‘He seemed nice.’ Gazing out of the car window, he indicated to go
left.
    Gwenhwyfar held her forehead in her hand, feigning her headache. ‘I
suppose.’
    ‘Is he a friend from school?’
    ‘He’s in one of my classes.’ The movement of the car made her feel
queasy. ‘He walked us home from the party.’
    ‘That was good of him. Did you have any trouble with patrol?’
    Gwenhwyfar shook her head. ‘We didn’t see them.’
    For a few moments nothing was said. Her father looked for relevant
road signs, as always choosing not to use the navigation system installed in
the car’s dashboard. Gwenhwyfar ignored his concerned glances, glad she had
remembered to use Viola’s sprays.
    ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘Not too great,’ she admitted. Her stomach lurched when her father
slowed the family car to a halt. Police tape cut across the road ahead, and
blue lights flashed off of the dancing ribbon. He wound down the window as