Chapter Twenty-Seven #3
I shake my head, trying to stave off the return of my pity party of one.
“It doesn’t matter. I just mean—he chose to be your father, and he’ll do anything to keep you safe.
All of this—everything our parents went through, it was all because of how much they love you.
Don’t you see that? Alexander kept his crown to protect you.
Helene and Nicholas stayed apart so you could be raised as the legitimate heir to the throne. ”
“And you didn’t have Alexander because he was too busy being my father to have time to be yours,” she finishes, her tone slightly strained now.
“That’s not what I—that’s not the point,” I say as firmly as I can.
“The point is, you are so damn loved, Maisie, and the entire family—the entire palace, and most of the country is going to fight for you. No one’s going to let Ben win over some easily forged piece of paper.
You have everyone you need on your side, including me, okay? ”
Maisie lets out another soft scoff. “You can’t help. No one can undo this, and when everything grows to a fever pitch and they demand another DNA test—”
“Then that’s what we’ll give them,” I say, because she’s wrong. There is a way I can help. “I’ll give them my blood, and we’ll pretend it’s yours. As long as they don’t test it against Helene’s, it’ll show that you’re Alexander’s biological daughter.”
Maisie stares at me as if she hasn’t heard me right, and I settle back in my chair, cradling my still-hot teacup to my chest. “You’d do that for me?” she says, stunned. “Even though I’ve been awful to you?”
“Only some of the time,” I say with a shrug. “The rest of the time, you’re not so bad. And either way, you’re still my sister.”
A fresh sob escapes Maisie, and she buries her face in her hands. “But—Ben will figure it out—he’ll know what we did—”
“So what? Let him shout about it from the rooftops. Maybe a few people will have their conspiracy theories, but you’re the one who told me that there are corners of the internet that claim you were switched at birth.
” I raise my teacup near my lips. “There are always going to be rumors, but we can do our best to make this one look ridicu—”
“Stop!”
Maisie’s hand flies out, slapping the teacup out of mine before I can register what’s happening. Hot liquid flies everywhere, but thankfully it’s been long enough that when some of it lands on my neck, it doesn’t scald my skin.
“Maisie! What the hell—” I begin, but she’s already grabbing the partially sodden napkin she’s been using as a tissue and wipes away the spill on my neck.
“Did it get anywhere else?” she says urgently, and I stare at her, bewildered.
“I don’t think so. What’s going on?” I say, following her lead and mopping up the remaining droplets with a fresh napkin, then arranging the quilt on the floor to absorb the rest of the spill.
Only then, my heart still pounding, do I take a good look at Maisie. Her face is bloodless, and her hands are trembling so badly that she isn’t even trying to hide it. A sick shade of green tinges her skin, and I scoot back in my seat, trying to avoid the potential splash zone.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps, as if she can’t get enough air into her lungs.
“Evan, I’m so bloody sorry. Ben—he said if I didn’t—he gave me twenty-four hours, and—if I didn’t, he would tell everyone, and—and I didn’t know—I can’t sleep—I didn’t think there was another way—and I thought—I thought you wouldn’t try it, because of what—of what Jasper did, and I thought I’d tell him I tried, and maybe that would buy me some time, but—”
Maisie breaks down into full-body sobs, her shoulders shaking and her skin now blotchy and red. I can’t understand half of what she’s trying to tell me, but as soon as she mentions Jasper, I look at the shattered teacup on the ground, and shock and horror creep over me like ice-cold vines.
The tea. There’s something in the damn tea, and whatever it is, Ben gave it to her. To give to me. And she did it. Or at least she tried. And I almost drank it.
I almost drank it.
“You’re telling me,” I say slowly, fighting to keep my voice steady, “that Ben sent you tea, and he gave you twenty-four hours to give it to me. And if you didn’t, he would…what, post the DNA test?”
“I don’t know,” cries Maisie. “I don’t know, but he said—he said it would be worse, and—I didn’t think you’d trust me, not after Jasper. I’m sorry, Evan. I’m so bloody sorry. I didn’t think there was any other way. But then—if you’re serious about another blood test…if you’d really do that for me…”
I stare at her, and her image seems to distort in front of me, like there’s a haze between us that’s twisting her features into something monstrous. “You just tried to kill me,” I say, eerily calm now that I’m sure.
“No, Evan—please, I didn’t think you’d drink it—I just wanted to tell Ben I’d tried, and—and maybe—”
“He’d give you more time. To what?” I say, tilting my head.
Her face turns into a Picasso in front of me, and I’m vaguely aware that the room around me is spinning.
Not because of any poison, but because of the battering ram of emotions violently breaking down my defenses.
Because my sister, one of the few people in the world I really, truly trust, just tried—and almost succeeded—in doing what Ben’s failed to achieve for the past year, all because I love her enough to let my guard down around her.
“To—to—I don’t know,” she answers at last, snot and tears clinging to her upper lip. “To come up with a solution, maybe. I don’t know.”
She breaks down into another wave of sobs, and that’s all I need to hear.
Numb to everything but the ache in my chest, I stand and walk out of the sitting room and into the castle beyond, and even when she cries my name, her voice shattered and full of the same agony I feel at this rupture between us, I refuse to look back.