Lancaster trash!
Death to the monarchy!
It’s strange to be hated so vehemently for something entirely out of your control. For the blood in your veins and the DNA that knits your molecules together.
“I was hoping, if I got close enough, I could learn their plans before anything bad happened,” Owen continues, his face a mask of remorse. “Obviously, I failed in that measure. The truck attack… when I think about what happened to all those people… what very nearly happened to you… I’m so ashamed of myself for not being able to prevent it.”
“No, Owen—”
“I was so damn close to their operations! It was right under my fucking nose and, still, I missed it somehow.”
“It’s not your fault, Owen. You couldn’t have known their plans. And, even if you did, it’s not like you could’ve stopped them without getting yourself killed in the process. They were determined to wage war on the Lancasters, no matter the collateral damage.”
“I should’ve done more. Earned their trust, embedded myself deeper. Then I could’ve made a real difference. I could’ve actually been useful to you.”
Heart panging, I reach out and lace my fingers through his. I squeeze as hard as I can. “You did everything you could. You tried. Most people wouldn’t even do half that much.”
He returns my squeeze, his strong grip swallowing mine. “I wanted to come back right away, as soon as it happened. But I needed to be sure they didn’t have a secondary attack planned. I had to be certain you were safe before I dared show my face here.” He pauses. “And I thought maybe if I had viable intel to contribute… you’d be able to forgive me for fucking up so severely.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just happy you’re safe. I worry about you, you know.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Too bad, Harding. We’re BFF. That secondfstands forforever, you know. So you’re officially stuck with me until we’re both old and gray.”
The laugh I expected never comes. Instead, he takes a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. “I stayed with the Black Bandanas after the bombing. What remains of them, anyway. Most disbanded after they heard about the truck attack. They may be unhappy with the monarchy, but the majority of them aren’t radicals. They’re just normal people. They want governmental changes, not carnage in the streets.” He shudders a little. “What happened that day… it drove a wedge through the entire antimonarchist movement. It may’ve been meant to spark disenchantment into full-scale rebellion, but from what I can see, it’s had the opposite effect. Members scattered to the winds, unwilling to be associated with such an extremist group. Suddenly, a few tax dollars going to fund the occasional royal affair seems a small price to pay for safety within the realm.”
“For now,” I murmur. “They may have forgotten their anger momentarily, buried as it is beneath this national horror we are all facing… but once the haze of grief and shock has thawed, all those issues that made them radical in the first place will still remain. This surge of patriotism is just a stop-gap.” I shake my head, eyes fixed far beyond my friend, far beyond this room, to a future that has yet to be shaped. “I may not know much, but I do know we can’t just ignore the antimonarchists and hope they go away. We can’t continue to treat them as pests to be exterminated. We need to fix the root cause of their frustrations. We need to actually sit down and talk to them, person to person, until we’ve reached some kind of accord. Otherwise… I fear we’ll end up right back here again — in six months or six years. With more blue and gold flags flying at half-mast as the heartbreakingly small caskets of our country’s children are lowered into the earth. And I’m not willing to take that risk. Not as long as there’s a crown on my head and an opportunity to prevent more death.”
Owen’s gaze moves over my face, studying it with near-clinical intensity.
“What?” I ask, defensive. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re…”
My brows lift.
“You’re different,” he informs me. “You’ve changed so much since I last saw you. It’s making my head spin.”
“I’m still the same old Emilia you grew up with.”
“Don’t be defensive. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s pretty damn amazing. The little girl with lopsided pigtails and ripped overalls who lived next door is now…”
“A not-so-little girl with a lopsided ponytail and ripped skinny jeans?”
“I was going to say a compassionate, contemplative leader. But yes, that too.”
A half-smile twists at my mouth when he reaches out and tugs on an errant lock of hair. “I’m proud of you, Ems. Have I told you that?”
“Don’t be cheesy.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “No cheddar here. I’m being honest. I know you’ve had a tough few months. I know stepping into this new role hasn’t been easy. But I’d be a pretty shitty person if I didn’t tell you I think you’ve handled it better than anyone else could’ve. You… I think you were always meant to wind up here.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Owen?” I tease, trying to deflect some of the ache his words have set off inside my chest. “Are you the same man who ordered me to walk out of this life and never look back? When I first told you I was planning to take on the role of heir, you practically bit my head off. Hell, you nearly came to blows with—” I pull up short before the name Carter pops out of my mouth.
Owen’s lips part to retort, but he must think better of whatever he’s about to say because they shut again without uttering a single syllable.
“I guess I’m just surprised to have your support,” I murmur softly. “You’ve been adamantly against this from the start. Me, becoming a Lancaster. Becomingroyal.”