Isobelle forced herself to dismiss her electrifying fantasy and properly bring her mind to bear on the problem. “I’ll grant something distressed her,” she said eventually. “But I struggle to believe she saw a dragon. The reason all you knights are forced to charge at one another is that there are no dragons anymore, and haven’t been for over a century. But—” She held up a hand to forestall Gwen’s reply. “Olivia will find out what’s happening. I can guarantee she’s already on her way to see what that woman has to say. She loves a mystery.”

Gwen was quiet, brooding on that. Isobelle did not reach up to deal with the curl that kept falling across the other girl’s brow. She was quite proud of her restraint.

“You’re sure?” Gwen said eventually.

“I am,” she promised. “We should wait until we hear from her. Then, if you feel we need to do something, we’ll try to think what that might be. It will take her some time, though. Even Olivia can’t walk through walls. I don’t think.”

Across by the stage, a group of musicians had started up, trying to get the festival back on track.

Gwen nodded. “We’ll wait for Olivia. Thank you for not laughing at me.”

“I would never,” Isobelle replied, mildly outraged. Then, fairness compelled her to continue: “Well, not over anything that really meant something to you. For now, everything that can be done is being done.”

Gwen nodded slowly, nibbling her lip. Isobelle made herself look away, out at the bonfires, and so she was taken by surprise when Gwen reached out, sliding her fingers down Isobelle’s arm to find her wrist in the dark, and then her hand, giving it a squeeze.

Sparks ran all the way from Isobelle’s fingertips, up her arm, and straight to her heart, as best she could tell. It was intensely distracting.

“Would Lord Whimsitt notice if you and I didn’t come back right away?” Gwen asked. “There’s something I want to show you, if you’re up for a walk.”

Isobelle considered the question. Then she considered the sheer impossibility of taking herself back to the picnic rug to pretend everything was normal, when everything had changed.

She considered letting go of Gwen’s hand.

She did not.

“If he does, the girls will cover for us,” she said, squeezing Gwen’s fingers in return. “Show me something.”

Chapter Twenty-Four
Don’t bring it all the way undone . . .

Gwen had had to drop Isobelle’s hand to sidle single file past a cart making its way late to the festival. Her impulse had been to reach for Isobelle again, but she’d hesitated. Taking her hand in the first place had been a gesture to tell Isobelle to trust her. Keeping gentle custody of it afterward could easily be dismissed as absent-mindedness.