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So I watch as Danny leaves, hoping to God they’ll go easy on him.
Every time I step inside the library, I’m transported to another era. With its soft warm lights and the captivating scent of old paper, it’s the place where I’m happiest in this ancient castle. I inhale deeply every time I enter the library, and every time after I need to remind myself,It’s not because of Rory.
The radio’s alive with another rowdy politics show and Dr. Moncrieff is poring over a huge broadsheet. He sips tea from a red flask, a faint look of disgust on his face — whether from the tea or the news, I can’t tell which.
He glances up at me as I hobble in, his expression turning sympathetic. “You look like you’ve been in the wars.”
As I approach the table, various lists of books are strewn around. With my injury, the shelving happens in reverse. Dr Moncrieff tells me to sit down and call out the titles of books from my list while he goes searching for them. It’s not the most exciting work, but I’m grateful I have someone like Dr. Moncrieff leading my detentions instead of Baxter. She would probably have made me limp up and down ladders to find whatever ancient manuscripts she wanted.
I watch him fly between the aisles, his eyes focused a hundred percent on the task at hand. I suppose I can see why Arabella’s so swoony around him. With his clean-shaven face and long sandy hair, he’s quite attractive if you like an older guy. But it’s the intensity of his focus that interests me more, and I try to imagineanyonelooking at me the way Dr. Moncrieff looks at old books.
When Dr. Moncrieff is trying to findA Royal Conundrum: Fortunes and Favors in Twentieth-Century Britain, I can no longer keep quiet. I have to ask him the question that’s been on my mind since my fall.
“Why were you outside when I fell?”
Dr. Moncrieff pauses, his focus slipping momentarily. I note his back stiffening as he scans the books. Slowly, he turns to me. “What did you see?”
I find this an unusual question. What did Isee? Dr. Moncrieff, of course, frowning down at me in concern. It had been so joltingly random. Dr. Moncrieff is usually found in the context of the castle — safely ensconced in dusty classrooms or book-lined libraries. Not outside in the freezing cold Lochkelvin grounds, wandering by the forest.
But no… Now that I think about it, it hadn’t just been Dr. Moncrieff. There had been others things that had confused my mind. Things I saw when my mind had flickered, delirious with pain. Things I wasn’t sure had been real.Wolves, I remember wondering, before reminding myself that there were no wolves in Scotland. And then… a person, running through the forests, dressed head to toe in black.
Followed by Dr. Moncrieff.
But he hadn’t been dressed all in black. I remember that clearly. He’d been in his normal school robes, as though out for a casual morning stroll…in the forest…
“Are you a werewolf?” I find myself asking, half-jokingly, half really not.
Dr. Moncrieff gives me a puzzled smile. “Not the last time I checked, though it hasn’t been a full moon in quite some time.”
Perhaps my fall also broke my brain. I’m not sure why I asked such a stupid question. “I didn’t see anything.”
He continues to observe me, analyzing my expression until it begins to feel awkward. “Good,” he eventually says. And then he returns to the shelves, not answering my question at all.
Other than when I read out the titles of books, Dr. Moncrieff and I don’t speak to one another after that. I frown down at the piece of paper in front of me as if it will give me answers. This time, instead of Scottish political reference texts, there are some dedicated to the Royal family and monarchies throughout the ages. It makes me think of Luke, and how quiet he’s been lately. It’s hard to believe he’s best friends with Rory and Finlay when he’s so subdued compared to them.
Dr. Moncrieff and I might work in relative silence but the radio is a constant source of noise. I’m still trying to wrack my brain over what I saw when I fell, so the stream of irritated questions and smarmy politicians’ answers is really distracting.
“When will the sanctions on Londonend? People just want to get on with their lives!”
“With a stretched police budget, why exactly are you arresting peaceful anti-monarchist protesters?”
“We all know it’s the anti-royalists who’ve caused this chaos, and they’re still out there! Why haven’t you locked them up and thrown away the key?”
When Dr. Moncrieff searches forA Comprehensive Guide to the Lineage of the House of Milton, the radio suddenly emits three sharp beeps.
“We interruptQuestions and Answers Timefor this breaking news bulletin.”
Dr. Moncrieff rushes over to the table with surprising speed, dropping the books he’s holding onto the floor and turning up the volume.
There’s the eerie shriek of sirens followed by the troubled voice of a female reporter.
“Terror has come to the streets of London. At least one hundred people have died following a series of explosions at Buckingham Palace and its surrounding areas. The former residence of the Royal family is engulfed by fire, and a specialist firefighting unit is on the scene. These latest developments show a clear escalation in the violence between warring royalist and anti-monarchist factions. In the lead-up to the tenth anniversary of that fateful referendum, it’s clear that ceasefire is a long way away. The army is on the streets. The military is on the streets. London is currently under siege.”
I stare at Dr. Moncrieff with wide, wide eyes.
He returns my gaze with a single word. “Fuck.”
