Chapter Ten #2
She’s dressed in muddy riding gear, and her freckled face is pink from the cold. Still, not a single hair is out of place in her French braid, and her makeup looks pristine as she clutches her phone, her mouth set in a thin line.
“Maisie,” I say, my spine stiffening. “We just saw Alexander. I thought—”
“What, that he was dead?” she says casually. “Maybe if you were both around more, you wouldn’t be so shocked.”
I stare at her, stunned, and her blue eyes flicker over me briefly before she focuses on something over my shoulder.
“I thought you, at least, would’ve known better,” she says, contempt dripping from her voice, and I can practically hear Kit grimace.
“Mais, I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you—”
“Oh, of course not,” she says airily. “I’m only the heir to the throne. It’s none of my business if my cousin and meddlesome half sister run off and chase terrorists for fun while the rest of us are stuck in Scotland. The entire world knows now, by the way. Or they will soon enough.”
Before I can put any of the dozen questions suddenly crowding my mind into words, Maisie taps her phone and shoves it in my face, and the polished, steady voice of an anchorwoman plays on full volume.
“…breaking news this hour as MI5 has announced the arrest of the terrorist known as Guy Fawkes, the supposed head of the Army of the British Republic.”
The clip that follows shows Guy being hauled out the front door of a house in what must be Oxford, his forgettable face neutral and his gold-ringed eyes fixed straight ahead. And while I only catch a glimpse of the arresting officer, I immediately recognize Singh’s profile.
“This is your doing, I suppose?” says Maisie, and I take her phone from her, my hands shaking.
Holy shit.
“Yes,” admits Kit behind me, while Tibby leans in to catch a glimpse of the broadcast. “And we will explain everything as soon as we’re settled in—”
“Please,” says Maisie with a sneer, and she snatches her phone from my hands, leaving me staring blankly at the wall instead. “I have better things to do than listen to your half-baked excuses.”
With that, she shoulders her way past me and back into the hallway, and I listen to the echo of her boots against the wood of the corridor, my mind a dizzying hurricane.
It’s over. Guy’s been arrested. The Army of the British Republic has collapsed. Fox Rex is finished.
It’s over, and Ben is still free.
“Ev?” says Kit, at my elbow now. I don’t—can’t—look at him.
“Tibby,” I say, stepping into the Scottish country-chic room and shoving my shaking hands into my pockets. “We need a minute. Please.”
“Very well,” she says, and she eyes Kit up and down. “I suppose you remember where your room is.”
He nods curtly, and I don’t bother asking why he has a separate one. Right now I’m almost glad he does.
As soon as Tibby is gone and the door is closed, Kit leans against the back of the tartan love seat, his shoulders sagging. “I can’t apologize,” he says quietly. “I don’t know if that’s what you’re waiting for, but it had to be done.”
I cross my arms to hide my trembling hands as I pace in front of the enormous four-poster bed. “You should have told me,” I repeat, and this time, he nods.
“I should have. I am sorry for that.”
“Everything we worked for, every risk we took—it was all for nothing now.”
Kit frowns. “They have them, Ev. They have Guy, and they’ll have the rest of the Abr soon enough, if they don’t already—”
“They don’t have Ben,” I snap, and silence falls between us, heavy and unmoving. Kit is frozen in place, his hand angled toward me like he wants to reach out, but there’s too much space.
“Ev…we were never going to get Ben,” he says carefully, like he’s walking through land mines, and I want to smash something to pieces. “Guy only wanted you—us—to think we could. He was toying with us the entire time, and there was nothing we could do but play our ace—”
“Our ace was Ben,” I say, tears burning my eyes. “It was the fact that we know he’s part of this, and if we can just get them to admit it—”
“If Ben is truly involved—”
“If?”
“—then he’s the real prize, Ev. He grew up in the royal family.
He knows more about how the entire institution functions than you and I ever will, and he knows Alexander and Maisie better on a personal level than nearly anyone in the world.
Guy Fawkes would never turn him in to the authorities and risk all Ben knows about him, too, in order to hook you.
Especially when the public already associates you with the Abr. ”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open as I let my arms drop. “But—”
“Evan.” He finally breaks the invisible wall between us, taking both of my hands in his and holding them so firmly that he feels like an anchor in a thrashing sea.
“I love you. You’ve done more in twenty-four hours than the entirety of MI5 has managed in months simply by being your courageous, stubborn, utterly reckless self, and I love you for it.
But I have stood by and almost lost you more times than I care to count, and all I want is for this to be over.
” He squeezes my hands, ducking down so his dark eyes bore directly into mine.
“I am begging you, Ev. Let MI5 do their job now. If there’s any chance of finding a connection between the Abr and Ben, they’ll manage.
And in the meantime, please, please let this nightmare be over for us. ”
I take a shuddering breath, and then another as he continues to hold my stare, his fingers lacing between mine.
The worst part is, I know that if he’d simply told me he was going to Singh, this would all be okay.
That the trust ripped out at the seams between us would still be there, and that we could find a way to mend the rest of the damage.
But that gaping wound is bleeding freely now, and as I watch him, I have no idea how he can’t feel it.
“You should’ve told me,” I say one more time, my voice small and pitiful. And as I untangle my hands from his and head toward the door, the hope on his face drains away, and I know he can feel the wound now, even if he may not realize how deep it is yet.