both of us, you know.’ Alan idly calculated the odds – yes, if he stopped work tomorrow, they could live quite comfortably on his investments. Probably indefinitely, barring catastrophes – but with the mind that the wild card had gifted him, Alan should be able to avoid any of those.
Of course, Sebastian probably wouldn’t make it that much longer. Seventy-four. Sebastian’s parents had died in their seventies, and his grandparents notably earlier. Alan couldn’t help calculating the odds. Mortality tables had a certain grim fascination to them. Yes, his husband probably had no more than ten or fifteen years left – Alan’s mind flinched away from that thought. He couldn’t quite picture his life without Sebastian in it.
As for Alan himself – who knew? He was one hundred and eight this year, but didn’t feel old yet – he felt, in fact, much as he had in his twenties. His card’s turning might have brought him many more decades of life – or he might drop dead tomorrow. There was no way to calculate that.
Sebastian was frowning at him. ‘Make plenty for both of us? What are you saying, Alan – that your work is more important than mine? Just because you get paid more?’
‘I didn’t say anything of the sort, Sebastian, and you know it.’ Alan fought to keep his tone even, not letting the irritation through. That would just escalate marital snippiness into an actual squabble. Alan did get frustrated with the imprecision with which most people spoke. Sebastian should know better by now.
His husband turned away, and was staring at the TV screen now, deliberately. Punishing him. ‘I care about what I do, Alan. I may not be a human computer, but I’m good at my work, one of the best.’ His voice rose a little. ‘Have you seen the new maze garden at Buckingham Palace? You can view it from Margaret’s windows – have you even bothered to look? It’ll take several years to fill in properly, of course, but I designed it specially for her to enjoy …’
‘I’m sorry – I just haven’t had time …’ to look at plants, was what Alan carefully didn’t say out loud. ‘But I’ll look tomorrow. Maybe I can find enough time to go for a walk in it …’ with Richard, which he also didn’t say.
Sebastian brightened, turning back to him. ‘Come at noon – I can show you around.’
Oh, he’d walked into that one, hadn’t he? ‘If I can get away.’ Alan regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth; Sebastian’s eyes had gone bleak. ‘No, I’m sure I can. Tomorrow. We can have lunch together – when you came to work at the Palace, we said we’d have lunch all the time …’
‘Yet somehow, we never do,’ Sebastian said.
Alan counted to ten, at human speed. He had to try harder. Sebastian was just so much work. Richard was easy by comparison … ‘Maybe we can pick some flowers for our lunch, add them to a salad, or to a bit of dessert? Remember that cake you made me for my birthday, with the crystallized rose petals on top? That was delicious. I’m sure the Queen wouldn’t mind …’
Sebastian sniffed. ‘The only things blooming in the garden right now are hellebores and snowdrops. If you put hellebores in my dessert, I’ll drop down dead.’
‘Well, we wouldn’t want that.’ Alan put a hand on Sebastian’s cheek, leaned in for a quick kiss. After a brief moment, his husband responded, lips warming under his, opening. The kiss lingered, longer than any had in some time, and when Sebastian finally pulled away, his eyes were bright.
‘No,’ Sebastian said, softly. ‘I suppose we wouldn’t.’ He snuggled into Alan’s shoulder, turning back to the television, and increasing the volume a bit. Even with the closed captions on, Sebastian liked to hear as much as he could.
Alan brushed his husband’s hair with his fingers, letting the strands slip past, one by one. He should’ve felt reassured, but there had been something in Sebastian’s eyes, a bleakness, that worried him. He couldn’t possibly know about Richard, could he?
The TV cut away, and then there was a sombre-faced announcer on the screen, all in black, announcing that the Queen had passed away. Oh, Margaret.
‘I’ll have to go in,’ Alan said, pulling away from his husband and rising to his feet.
‘Right now?’ Sebastian asked. He followed Alan back to the main entry.
Alan said, as he bundled up again in cardigan, coat, scarf, ‘I’ll have to meet with the Lion at Windsor, set up Henry’s security detail for his return to London and Buckingham Palace. It will take some time – don’t wait up.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ Sebastian said quietly. ‘Though I don’t sleep well until you’re safely home beside me.’
Alan repressed a sigh. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can.’ Time to make an effort. ‘The curry was delicious, love. Thank you.’
Alan let the door shut behind him, and headed out into the cold.
That night, the killings of the crows continued. There wasn’t so much as a word spoken of it on the news channels, even though now, adults were joining in. Gunshots rang out and even in the nearest barracks she felt crows die at the hands of common soldiers, while officers turned a blind eye.
And that’s when the goddess understood.
Like any dying organism, the city stirred its antibodies to free itself of the disease. It knew, perhaps only through the shared subconscious of its inhabitants, who she was, what she was. Perhaps the time had come to spread her wings. To bring some other city to its knees so that the land might drink the blood of its heroes.
On the news, an item about farm subsidies was brought to a sudden halt.
‘We apologize to viewers for the interruption, but we’re hearing that Windsor Castle will be making an announcement in the next five minutes or so. The programme will stay on the air, but it looks as if the sad news we’ve been expecting about the Queen is about to be confirmed. If so, it truly is the end of an era. An unprecedented time of peace and prosperity for mainland Britain for which she deserves some of the credit …’
Badb stayed up watching for hours. ‘Unprecedented peace and prosperity,’ she thought. ‘Fascinating.’
‘And what about the succession?’ said one royal correspondent to another.
‘Frankly, the polling prefers Richard by a wide margin. His opinions are less … troubling.’
‘Quite!’
‘But just imagine the chaos if he were to try for the throne!’
Imagine the chaos. Unprecedented peace.
Badb left that very night.
