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“But it isn’t enough,” I argue. “He knows the royal family’s security protocols too well, and he also knows the loopholes and how to exploit them. He’s grown up in this life—he knows exactly how to get to us, and I need to prove it’s him before it’s too late.”

Jenkins sighs. “Even if you’re right, darling, there’s absolutely no reason it has to be you.”

I look at Kit, who’s tight-lipped and staring at his hands. “I think it does, though,” I say. “I think I’m the only one who has a chance of making this work.”

Before either Jenkins or Kit can respond, my phone buzzes in my lap, and I automatically check the screen.

“It’s Maisie,” I say as I accept the call and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, we just left the prison. Aoife Marsh didn’t know anything about Ben, but—”

“Evan?” The connection crackles, and Maisie’s voice sounds oddly distant as a swell of noise fills the background of the call. “What’s going on? The prime minister’s insisting we evacuate to Balmoral, which is positively arctic this time of year. And Daddy’s coming by air ambulance even though he’s still critical, but no one will tell me why—”

“It’s the ABR,” I say. “MI5 are worried they’ve infiltrated the hospital and the palace staff. Talk to Agent Singh—he’ll give you the details. But they’re right, Maisie. You need to get out of London, okay?”

Maisie mutters a few choice words under her breath, mostly about Scottish winters. “Yes, all right, fine. But I certainly won’t enjoy it. How far away are you? The helicopter’s already landed on the lawn at Kensington, and Mummy’s insisting we leave as soon as possible.”

“I—” I hesitate and look at Jenkins, whose stony expression offers me nothing in return. “My mom’s going with them, right?”

“What? Who are you talking to?” says Maisie, confused, but I’m still watching Jenkins. At last the corners of his mouth tug downward, and he exhales in a heavy sigh.

“I’ll make sure your mother remains with His Majesty,” he promises, and I nod, grateful.

“My mom’s going to join you at Balmoral, Maisie,” I say. “Will you look after her for me? Make sure she takes care of herself?”

Maisie huffs. “I know you and Mummy had a bit of a spat, but Balmoral is my castle, not hers, and if I have to be there, then you most certainly do, too.”

“I’ll join you when I can,” I promise. “But not yet, Mais. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” she says, the indignation in her voice rising. But I hear a hint of fear, too. “You’re coming with us, Evan. That’s the whole bloody point, isn’t it? He’s after you.”

“While I’m gone,” I say as if she hasn’t spoken, “let him take my spot on the council.”

“What?” she sputters. “Evan—”

“You need to keep him close, all right? Close and busy. Let him think he’s won. Let him think you believe I started the fire. Let him think you hate me, and that he’s back in your good graces, or at least on his way. Pretend I’m not invited to Balmoral, that Kit and I are both being investigated—”

“Kit’s part of this madness, too?” she says furiously. “Let me speak to him—”

“I need you to do this for me, Maisie, okay?” I say, talking over her once more. “It’s important. Keep him busy.”

“I—” I can practically see Maisie opening and shutting her mouth. “Yes, all right, I’ll keep him busy, but—”

“And don’t let him anywhere near Dad,” I say. “Not even for a moment, okay?”

“That we certainly agree on,” she mutters. “Fine. I’ll keep him busy, and I’ll keep him away from Daddy—and your mother, naturally. But you must tell me what’s going on.”

My shoulders slump, and I lean forward, my seat belt cutting into my neck. “I’m going to fix this.”

She scoffs. “That’s alarmingly vague.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Just—trust me, okay? Please. I love you.”

“You—what?” says Maisie, and for a moment, her surprise overrides her fear. “Evan, what on earth—”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can,” I promise. “Stay safe. And don’t trust anyone.”

“Evan—Evan! Don’t you dare—”

I hang up with her voice still ringing in my ears, and the silence in the vehicle is thick. Kit is watching me now, though his expression remains unreadable, and I desperately wish he’d say something. Even if it’s not what I want to hear.