Page 50 of New Angels

“What about another option,” Rory says, with the hint of an experiment. “He gets the crown and is loved?”

I meet his gaze, forthright, from across the table. “Do you honestly see that happening?” I want to believe in it but it’s too pretty. Contrived. At this moment, with Antiro becoming more lethal in their demands, bolder in their acts, and crueler in their violence, it’s nothing but a fantasy.

“That’s why he’s underground, to garner support.”

“How can he garner support when he’sunderground?”

“Because he won’t have to do anything,” Danny answers slowly, as though having only just realized this. “All Antiro needs to do is show the public who they are, and they’ll be begging for Luke to come back. He’s a ready-made, purpose-built option to counter them.”

“Aye, exactly. Naebody who knows who they really are likes them,” Finlay notes. “The public still thinks Antiro just meansanti-royal, like an actual anti-monarchist group instead o’ a violent militia that’s just taken control o’ the country. Public sympathy is gonnae spin on its fuckin’ axis when they finally wake up.”

“But Luke doesn’t havetimeto wait for the public!”

“It’s what he’s been primed to do all his life,” Rory points out. “His duty is to serve the public, and if it comes to it, to give hislifefor them. Yes, they’re slow to realize the truth of a matter, but they’re also fighting a massive propaganda campaign. The public is slow to wake up but it’s quick to react. Antiro will fall like dominoes. It’s just a matter of when.”

I shake my head. The chiefs are too concerned with Luke-the-king, not Luke-the-man with the irresistible smile that reaches his gentle eyes, who I’d do anything for out of love for him, not his royal status. But Luke’s future, in whatever direction I look other than across oceans, seems desperately bleak. “I think you’re underestimating Antiro.Someonemust like them if they hold so much sway.”

“Aye. Oscar Munro and the BRP. His shady dealings wi’ Ponsonby tae remain PM. And then there’s the footsoldiers o’ the movement, people who need any cause tae get behind, and others who’re just after a fuckin’ rammy.”

I don’t know what arammyis, but I can infer it from Finlay’s scathing tone.

“And now nutters like Hodgson, apparently,” Rory says dryly, nursing his temple. “That onedoesactually worry me. He’s a teacher.”

Finlay shrugs, toying with his plaid pajama cuff. “So’s Moncrieff, and he’s aye been a bellend.”

“But Hodgson? He’s a nobody. He’s never said a political word in all his time here. If we receive sub-standard education from teachers juggling their time being activists, then parents ought to know. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my calculus coming with a bonus lecture on how to lick Benjamin Moncrieff’s saggy arse, and I’m guessing parents paying a lot of money won’t want their darling children being lied to, either.”

“Ye said ye were gonnae take down Hodgson,” Finlay points out.

“And then Luke’s mother was murdered. Priorities changed. From what my followers said, he was never as much of an immediate threat as Wells, who Ididquash.” He gives Finlay a cynical glance. “Don’t worry, he’s risen up my shit list. He’ll be dealt with.”

“How?” Danny asks.

Rory is quiet for a moment, watching the quiver of candlelight as it twirls around the wick, his mind analyzing. “My father is a proponent of the old methods,” he says, still gazing down at the candle as he raises his wounded wrists. “But I think it’s high time we brought in new ways.”

Finlay raises an eyebrow. Rory doesn’t expand, but there’s a small lift to the corner of his mouth that makes me think he’s picturing whatever revenge he’s planned — and that it’s a good one.

“Bloody well done on the flag, by the way,” Rory says suddenly to Finlay, and Finlay blinks several times, his face warming at Rory’s genuine praise.

“Hardly,” he dismisses, however, playing it cool. “They took it doon the same day.”

With a shrug, Rory says, “You still did it. That took courage.” He glances down at Finlay’s wrists. “And more.”

“Are we all supposed to pretend this is real?” Danny asks, looking bewildered. “That flag? Just wake up one day and find the flag’s changed because they suddenly don’t approve of Scotland anymore?”

“The Antiro flag-shaggers will,” Finlay says. “It’s bad enough they had their own ugly flag. Now they’re fuckin’ up an actual proper flag wi’ centuries o’ history behind it. Entitled cunts.”

“People always go funny around flags,” Rory says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “Tyrants with kooky flags who demand to be worshiped aren’t worth bothering with. Ignoring their tantrums is how they lose power.”

“So we putoorflag back up.”

Rory says nothing for a long time. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he eventually says. “I know symbols are important but I don’t see this ending well.”

This displeases Finlay. “So wearegiein’ in tae tyrants wi’ kooky flags, aye?”

“We’ll meet again to discuss this,” Rory promises, glancing down at his wristwatch. I remember now — he said Baxter had removed all his clocks. This must be the one hold-out, and he’s worn it ever since. It also, I realize, conceals the marks on his hands, and I wonder which came first — the desire for punctuality or the need to hide the signs of an unjust punishment. “We aren’t necessarily safe in the library, but I can’t think where else in the castle to meet.”

“There’s the fireplace?” I suggest, and then regret it when a series of bitter flashbacks accost me.

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