‘So now you’re going to kill me. How romantic.’
He is still laughing, but he thinks no one noticing the way his eyes dart around the room for some escape. His musket lies hidden beneath the desk - if he can only get to it-
‘This is nothing to do with romance, Aaron,’ Keiran says quietly, his knuckles holding the sword white with tension and pain.
‘Oh, of course. It’s to do with what’s right and what’s wrong. Why didn’t I see before?’
‘Everything in this world is,’ Beatrix says, surprisingly calm. ‘Everyone does what they think is right. It just depends on whether they think it’s right for everyone, or just for them.’
‘Now you’re saying I’m selfish.’
‘Of course you are. We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. And neither would you.’
‘Spare me the morals,’ he spits. ‘I’ve had enough of that from your beloved uncle, may his heart grow ever larger. But did he ever get where I am?’
‘Yes, he did. He got beyond you. He never forced the country to civil war!’
He is backing up towards the desk... The musket calls to him... He could finish these two righteous prats off and get to the battlements in less than five minutes...
Yes! In a moment he’s got it, hot in his hands.
‘Oh yes, my lovelies. Now I really must go. I’m in a bit of a hurry. But very nice knowing you! Adios!’
And he pulls the trigger.