Note: This didn't fit with the rest of the story, but I wanted to put it out there anyway. :)
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The news catches them while they're over the Atlantic.
Alek is returning to his stateroom from the head, wondering where he can find a suitable aircraft in which to set a non-stop distance record (perhaps he will have one commissioned; that should please Deryn and anger his granduncle all at once), when he sees a uniformed porter hurrying away in other direction.
Curious, he continues on to discover Deryn standing in the middle of the cabin, frowning at a slip of paper in her hands.
"What is it?" he asks, concerned, closing the door behind him.
She looks up. Passes him the paper. Her expression is unreadable, and her tone likewise offers no clues. "Just came over the wireless."
He blinks at the message. It's from Schönbrunn Palace, in Vienna. The date is clearly written on the top: November 21, 1916. Those two details are the last things he reads that make any sort of sense.
"This can't be," he says, going numb. He looks up. "Deryn. Did you read this -?"
She folds his hands over the news that his granduncle is dead, and kisses him, very gently, on the cheek. "Aye, Your Majesty. Long live the king."
