The Future King: Logres Read Free Page A

occasionally she sneaked a glance at a boy in front of
her, who gazed unaware out of the window, his dark blonde hair highlighted with
gold in the pale light. The boy sitting next to him looked familiar, and
Gwenhwyfar realised that he was in her tutor group. Her eyes turned to the
clock. It was quarter past nine.
    The door swung open, and in hurried the teacher who had given her
directions upon her arrival. He stumbled to his desk, letting the sliding books
in his arms collapse there like a house of cards. One fell onto Gavin and Tom’s
table. Immediately it was swiped.
    ‘Thank you sir, I needed a new one of these.’
    ‘If I could have that back, Thomas, please,’ he asked with some
exasperation. Tom opened it up and made a big scene in the process. It was a
school planner. The teacher ripped it from his hands.
    ‘Hey!’ Tom objected. ‘Didn’t your mother tell you not to snatch?’
    ‘ This ,’ Mr Caledonensis
stressed, ‘is for our new student, Gwenhwyfar Taliesin. Not for sticky-fingered
students such as yourself, Mr Hareton.’
    ‘Gwenhwyfar—?’ Tom snorted, ‘I thought you said your name was
Gwen?’
    ‘Gwen’s short for Gwenhwyfar, you idiot,’ she snapped, hating that he
just grinned.
    ‘Yeah, just like Tom’s short for Thomas,’ Gavin remarked.
    ‘And Dolf is short for Adolf,’ Mr Caledonensis contributed, waving
the school planner about. ‘I suppose you’ll need an exercise book too,
Miss Taliesin. Well, here you go. You’ll have to buy the textbook. In the
meantime you can share Morgan’s.’
    As the books were dumped on her desk, she was pointed in the direction
of Morgan Faye, who seemed irked by the sudden development. Mr Caledonensis
returned to the head of the classroom, with no mention as to why he was late,
and soon the words “Industrial Revolution” were scrawled out before them.
Nervously, Gwenhwyfar gathered her things and hurried to move tables, catching
the eye of the boy by the window. As she sat, she found herself lost in the
warmth of his chocolate-brown eyes.
    He had a strong jaw and a pronounced chin, but both sat well
proportioned to an honest face that was defined by a broad, straight nose and
generous, cushioned lips. Though he was fair, she could tell that he tanned
easily, and his smooth skin was softened by a golden undertone. His eyes,
though sunken under thoughtful eyebrows, were bright and quick, and his broad
shoulders angled to a frame that was sturdy and solid.
    It was obvious that she was blushing; she knew it. Suddenly lost over
where to look, Gwenhwyfar threw her eyes to the front of the class where Mr
Caledonensis scribbled on the board, seemingly oblivious to the rising noise
levels behind him. She could still feel the boy’s eyes on her. Curiosity pulled
her like a magnet, and she looked at him again. Her heart skipped. This time he
looked away first.
    The lesson went quickly and any attempts she made to speak to Morgan
were deflected with curt, one word answers. Mr Caledonensis took points from
the class and added them to the board, listing phrases like: prosperity and productivity , origins of mass production in Great Britain, and eventual increase in pollution and
natural resources crisis . He seemed to cover the government’s role in tackling
climate change uncomfortably, and swiftly moved on, setting them a series of
questions to answer instead. Using the final five minutes of the lesson to
check where she was next, Gwenhwyfar memorised the number of her English classroom
so that she wouldn’t look too lost when navigating the halls. She only just
registered the due homework before the bell sounded and everyone jumped to
their feet. Still shouting over the ruckus, Mr Caledonensis was forced to give
up, and returned muttering to his desk.
    ‘Sir?’ Letting Morgan Faye go first, Gwenhwyfar picked her way
through the maze of chairs scattered in the aisles. ‘This textbook, can I have
the name? Where do I get it from?’
    He perked up