Chapter Twenty-Eight
“We have the pleasure of being joined today by His Royal Highness Prince Benedict via VidChat as we discuss the stunning attack in Kenya, where four poachers were killed earlier this week by the herd of elephants they were tracking. Your Royal Highness, you’ve recently spent quite a bit of time on the reserves in Kenya, haven’t you? ”
“I have. It’s been a pleasure to see so many of these intelligent, compassionate creatures in their natural environment, and it’s no surprise to me that they banded together to protect their own.”
“A video of the attack has gone viral, and while we must caution viewers about its graphic nature, I’d also like to point out the herd’s choice of approach. I don’t know what else to call it other than ‘strategy.’ It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”
“It really is. It’s a teachable moment as well, I feel, about underestimating those around us, animal or human.”
“That’s a fascinating insight, Your Royal Highness. Do you have plans to return to Kenya anytime soon?”
“Sadly, no, not with term starting next month.”
“Ah, yes, that’s right—you, Princess Mary, and Evangeline Bright are all set to go to university in the coming weeks. We’ve heard rumours that the royal wedding might even take place before then. Can you give us a hint, perhaps?”
“I’m afraid my uncle would throttle me if I gave too much away, but I will say that I’m likely to need a new tux before a new textbook.”
“Good man, good man. No doubt you’re excited to welcome Evangeline into the family, especially after all the last year and a half has brought.”
“We’re thrilled. She’s like a sister to me, and we’re quite eager to have another our age in the family.”
“And can you share whether there’s any truth to the rumours about her being legitimized and her heirs potentially placed in the line of succession ahead of you?”
“There’s…plenty I could say about that, but I will admit that as of right now, there is a crisis in the palace over the line of succession. But Evangeline isn’t the main topic of conversation there.”
“That’s not quite what we expected to hear. Are there any details you’re able to share at this time?”
“I…well, I suppose it’s already out there, which is part of the problem.
It’s the problem, really, considering it’s never been a secret in the family.
They won’t like me talking about it, and I fear there may be some form of retribution for this, but with it already made public, it’d be best announced by someone who loves her deeply, and for whom it changes nothing. ”
“Does this have something to do with Evangeline?”
“No, though of course I love her, too. We’re a very close family, which is what makes this so difficult for everyone involved. It’s Mary.”
“Princess Mary? Is she ill?”
“No, no, nothing like that! She’s in perfect health. But I’m afraid our parents have been lying to the public—out of love and necessity, you see—all her life.”
“Lies? What sort of lies?”
“Well, my aunt has all but come out and admitted it, though she was…flexible with the timeline. It’s no secret now that she and my father, the Duke of York, have had an affair, though they claim it only began in the past year.
I’m afraid that’s the start of the lie—a lie that has been necessary to protect Mary from the wrath of the public and the family from utter humiliation.
As I said, it’s no secret between us, but for obvious reasons, it was necessary from the beginning to make sure that no one else knew how long their affair has really been going on. ”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Precisely. I fear Mary is not my cousin but in fact my half sister, and a product of the decades-long affair between my father and Hele—”
[cuts to commercial]
—ITV News’s interview with His Royal Highness Prince Benedict of York, 17 September 2024
Ben’s interview airs live the next morning, and it’s instantly banned from all British media.
Not that anyone legitimate would touch it, considering his treasonous claims, but whatever special relationship the palace has with the BBC and other proper news channels works, and it only airs on television once.
Unfortunately, digital recording and the internet exist, and it’s gone viral within fifteen minutes.
On any other day, I would’ve been in Maisie’s room, listening to her tantrum or her sobs, handing her tissues and doing everything I could to comfort her.
But today, less than twenty-four hours after she tried to poison me with Ben’s tea, I can’t bring myself to do anything other than recognize the dull thud of finality in the pit of my stomach.
This is it. Whatever comes next, this is the turning point where nothing will ever be the same. And short of me dying like the good little corpse I’m not, there’s nothing any of us could’ve done to stop it.
“Tibby says that Alexander’s been in a crisis meeting with Astrid, Doyle, and his other advisers all morning,” says Kit as he brings our lunch trays to bed, where I’m yet again huddled with Poppy, watching with little interest as various social media feeds light up on my laptop.
“But she expects he’ll call a family meeting as soon as they’re done.
Bloody hell—they’ve forgotten our tea again. ”
“I’ll start the kettle,” I say quickly before he can try to call the kitchen.
As soon as I returned to our suite yesterday, I asked Tibby for a minifridge full of water bottles and an electric kettle, along with a selection of tea packets and mugs, and while these are the only luxury items I’ve ever asked for, she still eyed me like I’d lost my mind.
But the thought of ever drinking tea from one of the royal services again—or watching Kit do so—makes me sick to my stomach, and I hop off the bed and hurry to boil some water.
Even though my back is turned, I can feel Kit watching me, and I know what’s coming next.
He didn’t ask about the new additions the evening before, when tea wasn’t included with our dinner trays, or this morning, when I was already in the process of making it for him as Tibby burst into our room with breakfast. But that ticking clock was always going to be a short one, and once I’ve poured two mugs of boiling water and dropped packets of Earl Grey inside, I know my time is up.
“Is there any particular reason we have our own kettle now?” says Kit, and there’s no accusation or wryness in his voice—only patience and curiosity.
I press my lips together, still facing the tea instead of him. I didn’t tell him what Maisie tried to do, even though the smart thing would be to warn him. Just because she failed once, after all, doesn’t mean she won’t try again.
But Kit loves her like a sister. He grew up with her, and he’s already lost his brother and Ben. I can’t—I won’t do anything to put a wedge between him and Maisie, even when it means dealing with the aftermath of this on my own.
“I’m feeling a little more…anxious than usual lately, with the wedding so close,” I say. “And it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? Making our own tea instead of relying on someone to bring it to us. Like how it was in the flat.”
I hear the rustle of blankets, and then Kit’s warm arms envelop me from behind, his cheek resting against my head. “It is nice,” he agrees, his voice low in my ear. “As long as that’s all it is.”
I nod, my mouth dry. I hate myself for lying to him. “We know Ben likes to drug drinks.”
“And chocolates,” he says grimly. “I suppose we could live off Pizza Express until we go back to Oxford, if you’d prefer.”
“Tempting,” I say with a small smile. “But after what happened to Rosie, Alexander’s being a lot more careful with the food and kitchen staff. And I can’t go completely off the deep end.”
“No, no, can’t have that,” he agrees, his arms tightening around me. “C’mon. Let’s get a bit of food in you before Alexander calls that meeting. I’ve a feeling it’ll be a long one. Do you think Maisie and Gia would like to join us for lunch?”
“No,” I blurt a little too quickly, and he pauses, peering down at me.
“I mean—Maisie’s obviously going through a lot right now, and I doubt seeing me will help.
” In our own twisted version of “The Prince and the Pauper,” I’m weeks away from being legitimized, while Maisie is facing down the barrel of public bastardom.
“Besides, the meeting is going to be a mess. I wouldn’t mind a few minutes of peace and quiet first.”
Even though I can still feel Kit’s burning questions, he doesn’t press, and we head back to the bed with our mugs of tea.
The story of Ben’s interview has reached American news sites now, and my compassion for my sister and all she’s going through fights a violent war with the very real fact that I should be dead by now, if she’d had her way.
Tibby knocks on our door soon after, and the three of us head up to the conference room, which I expect to be packed with advisers and assistants.
Instead, as Kit opens the door for Tibby and me, I’m struck by how empty the room is.
Maybe the others have already left, but the only people who remain are Alexander, Doyle, Astrid, and Jenkins, each of whom look like they’ve spent all morning banging their heads against a wall.
“Ah, Evie, Kit, you made it,” says Alexander, and when he tries to smile, it looks like a grimace of pain.
I haven’t seen him since the confrontation with Venetia in the white drawing room, and I can’t bring myself to offer him a greeting other than the smallest of nods.
He returns it, his face falling, and I can’t help but wonder what he would think about Maisie’s stunt with the tea.
Would he try to make excuses for her? Or would he take my side, for once?