Heartstopper meets A Knight’s Tale in this queer medieval rom-com YA debut about love, friendship, and being brave enough to change the course of history.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Lex Croucher’s Gwen & Art Are Not in Love, which is out November 28th!
It’s been hundreds of years since King Arthur’s reign. His descendant, Arthur, a future Lord and general gadabout, has been betrothed to Gwendoline, the quick-witted, short-tempered princess of England, since birth. The only thing they can agree on is that they despise each other.
They’re forced to spend the summer together at Camelot in the run-up to their nuptials, and within 24 hours, Gwen has discovered Arthur kissing a boy, and Arthur has gone digging for Gwen’s childhood diary and found confessions about her crush on the kingdom’s only lady knight, Bridget Leclair.
Realizing they might make better allies than enemies, Gwen and Art make a reluctant pact to cover for each other, and as things heat up at the annual royal tournament, Gwen is swept off her feet by her knight, and Arthur takes an interest in Gwen’s royal brother. Lex Croucher’s Gwen & Art Are Not in Love is chock full of sword-fighting, found family, and romantic shenanigans destined to make readers fall in love.
Gwen successfully managed to avoid Arthur all day. She walked in endless loops around the grounds with Agnes, making polite but stilted conversation, and then retired for lunch, followed by a solitary afternoon in her chambers mostly spent drumming her fingers against things and sighing.
When she was called to supper in the Great Hall, Gwen knew she couldn’t put off seeing her betrothed any longer; she had Agnes pull out her finest spring dress in delicate pink-and-gold silk damask, braid her hair up out of her face, and weave cherry blossoms into it. When she met Gabriel on his way down to dinner, just as late as she was, he raised an eyebrow at her.
“You look nice,” he said pointedly.
“Oh, shut up.”
She noticed that he’d also made an effort; he was wearing an embroidered blue doublet that she didn’t recognize, and his hair was actually combed. “Did Elyan dress you? What’s with the jacket?”
He looked down at it as if he’d never seen it before in his life. “Oh? No. He’s gone back to Stafford.”
Lord Stafford managed the running of the royal family’s affairs, and it was the bane of his life that Gabriel refused every man of the chamber sent his way; they each lasted roughly a week before Gabriel felt too horrified by the familiarity and proximity and had them quietly sent to work elsewhere. He’d be left by himself for a month or so in glorious peace while Stafford lined up another doomed replacement.
The hall was packed; most of the people who’d come to watch the opening ceremony had also been invited to dine with the king tonight, which meant that the long wooden tables were overflowing with guests messily pouring wine, shouting to each other in greeting, and jostling for a better position. Gwen assumed that Arthur would be among them, and felt a little smug about being able to bypass the crowds and walk straight up to the royal table on the dais, but stopped short when she saw who was sitting next to one of the only two empty seats.
“I’ll give you everything I own,” she said quietly to Gabriel. “I’ll give you—”
“Sit by me, Your Highness,” Lord Stafford called, plummy as ever, an upsetting number of peacock feathers in his hat. “I had something I wanted to discuss with you.”
Gwen knew he wasn’t talking to her. He was never, ever talking to her.
“Of course,” Gabriel said politely, crossing to the seat without daring a backward glance at Gwen, who had no choice but to sit down next to Arthur.
She deigned to give him a quick once-over, and was glad to see that he looked miserable. He had dark shadows under his eyes and quite a nasty-looking cut on his brow. He was staring sullenly into his soup, and although he didn’t say anything when she sat down next to him, she saw his shoulders tense.
She was fully prepared to ignore him all evening, but her mother was deep in conversation with her father on her left, and when she tried to lean in to their discussion her father caught her eye and raised a knowing eyebrow. She sank back into her seat, resigned to her fate.
“Arthur,” she said factually.
“Yep,” he replied, just as accurately.
“Rough journey, was it?”
“Nothing compared to the destination,” he replied, with a tight-lipped smile.
“What a thrilling surprise to find you at my table.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea,” he said gloomily, picking up his drink. “Your mother cornered me on my way in. Wouldn’t even let Sid come with me.”
“Who’s Sid?”
“Sidney Fitzgilbert. My body-man. He’s the short, ugly one over there.” He waved a hand toward one of the long tables, and Gwen saw a stocky, dark-haired, and perfectly good-looking man raise a hand to wave cheerfully. He was pale but slightly sunburned, and had stew all down his chin. She did not wave back.
“Delightful.”
“He is, actually. A ray of sunshine. Compared to some.”
“Oh, come on,” Gwen said, finally snapping. “You’re nineteen now, not eleven. At least attempt civility.”
He turned to look at her with pure disdain in his narrowed eyes, gave her a slow once-over, and then returned his gaze to her face.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think I will.”
“You’re going to be here all summer,” Gwen said. “Arthur. You might be here forever.”
“Well. God. I suppose you’re right,” he said, sighing and looking around. “Must find a way to get through it. Face it head-on.” Gwen was just about to nod and say something vaguely approving when he gestured to a serving girl walking past. “Some wine, please, and keep it coming. All summer.” He turned to Gwen and gave her a sweet, entirely artificial smile.
“Maybe even forever.”
“Oh, go to hell, Arthur,” Gwen hissed. He raised his newly filled glass in a mock toast.
“There’s the Gwendoline I remember.”
They sat in silence until the queen leaned over to talk to Arthur; he immediately sat up straighter and answered all her questions pleasantly, even charmingly; yes he’d kept up with his reading, no of course it wasn’t an imposition to be called here for the summer, yes he still loved to dance. It made Gwen all the more annoyed—he was capable of playing nice, just not with her.
After dinner, there was to be music. Gwen was usually able to sneak away at this point in the evening, offering excuses of sprained ankles or miscellaneous “women’s troubles,” while everybody grabbed partners and rushed to take their positions for the dancing—but as she tried to move toward the exit her mother’s hand closed around her upper arm like a vise.
“Dance with your guest, Gwen,” she said through a terse smile.
“Mother,” Gwen said seriously. “Call the guards. He threatened me with a knife.”
“I told you not to say things like that anymore,” her mother said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her toward the dancers. “Lord Stafford’s poor nephew almost soiled himself when they grabbed him.”
“I hope he really does kill me,” Gwen said glumly. “Then you’ll be sorry.”
From Gwen & Art Are Not in Love, by Lex Croucher. Copyright (c) 2023 by the author, and reprinted with permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
