Page 41 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

“Just Benji?” Luke asks with icy rage. “Because that seems an awful lot of work for one person, especially an irritant like him.”

With his eyes narrowing, Rory says, “There may have been others.”

“Who?”

There’s a moment’s silence as Rory slides a glance across to Finlay. “Finlay was also encouraged to help.”

“By whom?”

The silence lengthens. “Me.”

“So, let me get this straight. My two best friends conspired behind my back to remove me from the throne, because your father willed it to be so.” Luke purses his lips, as though to stop himself from speaking more, and nods slightly. “Wow.”

“Oh, please. You are not the victim in this.”

Luke’s laughter is bright and harsh. “Am I not? I did not ask for any of this to happen. All I know is that I have been groomed since birth to become the head of my family, to rule over this country and make it glorious once again, and you believe in snatching my birthright from my grasp because of the whispers of your pathetic father? That makes this a victimless act, does it?”

“Do not call my father pathetic,” Rory says in a low, dangerous voice that causes the hair to rise on my arms.

Luke paces up and down the piste, his brow furrowed and his mind lost in thought. “I will be challenging this, and I do not mean with a ridiculous fencing duel. I mean in the courts. In public gatherings. I will create an army of royalists and bring your father to heel.”

Rory closes his eyes for a brief moment. “There’s nothing you can do,” he says wearily. “The wheels have been put in motion.”

“They’re already tearing down statues of kings and queens,” Luke says sharply, turning to Rory. “If the public finds out, I will be hunted down like ananimal.” It’s the first time all match I’ve heard fear in Luke’s voice, and it’s potent enough for Rory’s eyes to snap open.

“You won’t. I promise you. I’ll protect you. Lochkelvin will protect you.” He approaches Luke hesitantly, dropping his weapon to the floor. “I support you as a friend. As a fellow chief. But your family has lied about your noble birth, and as such I can never support you as king.”

A sneer takes over Luke’s mouth. “What does it matter if my blood descends from someone royal or not? My family has held the position capably. We are the most able to take the monarchy into the future.”

“Because the box has been opened!” Rory barks, trying to make Luke see sense. “The cat is out of the bag! Your existence is a lie. Your lineage is a lie. How are we ever supposed to support you publicly, knowing what we now know? Your family has deceived the country.”

“Your father deceives the public on a daily basis.”

“Not on something like this. On blood. My father was votedin. People support you because they think you’re a gift from God.”

There’s a wry tilt to Luke’s lips. “Aren’t we all?”

“They believe you have divine oversight. That you’re in some way special, unlike them. In reality, you have the blood of a peasant who tried his luck and won. Only now you’ve been found out.”

Luke shakes his head. “I will never renounce the throne. I am still entitled to it when I come of age.” In a superior tone, he adds, “I demand recognition for my birthright and the privileges it entails.”

“Do you want to be killed?” Rory asks testily. “Because keep saying things like that and it’ll happen. But if you abdicate, you regain control.”

Luke scowls at Rory as though he’s suggested something grossly offensive. “How do I regain control if I am being forced to abdicate?”

“It’s more a choice of living without a throne or dying because of it.”

“Then I shall die,” Luke declares nobly, and Rory rolls his eyes. “Besides, you promised me sanctuary in Lochkelvin.”

“And it will always be there for you. But I cannot promise you the same in the world outside it.”

“Yes, you can,” Luke says, approaching Rory and holding onto the lapels of his fencing jacket. The two of them at that moment are a perfect contrast of light and dark, so close that they’re within striking distance, and I find myself wishing a kiss between them could fix this whole scenario. “Stop this. Whatever your father has planned with that document, cancel it. Do not let it through. Destroy it.”

“It’s too late,” Rory whispers, his nose brushing Luke’s. “It’s already being printed. It’ll be released within the month.”

I swallow. That’s news — news, I realize with a gnawing sensation in my stomach, that renders my previous night’s attempt at sabotage utterly pointless. It’s… really quite a lot sooner than I expected, but then how long is official whistleblowing supposed to take? I can’t say I’m an expert.

Luke drops his forehead onto Rory’s shoulder, and Rory slides a hand around his back. “Who am I, if not royal?”

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