Page 27

“Evan,” says Kit, his fingers lacing through mine underneath the table. “Why don’t we go on that walk?”

“Walk?” I say, barely comprehending the word. “But—”

“That’s a great idea,” says my mother. “Do me a favor and look for a spot that captures your attention. I’d like to work on a new piece while we’re here, and it should be something special.”

I don’t know how to say no to that, or how to say yes to Kit, but he stands and guides me to my feet. “We’ll be back before lunch,” he promises, but before he can lead me to the exit, I slip my hand out of his grip and fling my arms tightly around my mom.

“Are you sure?” I whisper, and she hugs me gently in return.

“Positive,” she murmurs. “Helene and I both have what we want now, and that makes all the difference.”

I’m not convinced, but my mother releases me, and Kit’s there again, apparently every bit as sure as she is that this isn’t a massive mistake. I glance over my shoulder as we leave the dining room, but rather than focusing on my mother, I meet Helene’s eye instead. She nods once, slowly, and this is as much of a promise as I’m going to get.

The garden, as it turns out, isn’t just a stretch of flowers, but a dozen paths that lead through meticulous hedges and shrubs, past stunning fountains and statues, and into the woods that are spread out across the estate. Kit’s arm is wrapped around the waist of my black wool peacoat as we meander between tall trees, the branches bare in the winter morning light, but for once, his presence isn’t enough to calm the hurricane of anxiety inside me.

“I hate that we don’t know what they’re talking about,” I say, resisting the urge to look back at Sandringham House, or at least what little we can see of it from here. “If Helene says something that sets my mom off…”

“She won’t,” says Kit. “What would be the point? It would only upset you and Alexander, and she wouldn’t gain anything. Besides, Aunt Helene may be many things, but she isn’t malicious or sadistic.”

“No, just spiteful and heartless,” I mutter. “She told the entire world about my mom’s illness.”

“Because she thought it would protect Maisie. I’m not defending her,” he adds gently as I start to protest. “I’m completely on your side. But I’ve known Aunt Helene my entire life, and if I thought for a moment that she might do something to shatter your mother’s peace, I would’ve never walked out of that room. If anything, they’re almost certainly talking about Alexander.”

“What about him?” I say, silently desperate that he’s right.

“Logistics, I’d expect, especially if he and your mother choose to carry on while he’s still legally married to Helene.”

I make a face. “I can’t believe they’re sharing a bedroom. Do you think—no, never mind, don’t answer that.”

He laughs and kisses my temple. “Are you all right with it?With them being together again, if they are. If they choose to be.”

Something heavy settles over me, and I take a deep breath, considering the question. Unlike some kids with unmarried parents, I never fantasized about mine getting back together in a sweeping romance that fixed every problem in my life. If anything, the very thought makes me uneasy for reasons I’m not sure I can explain.

“I don’t think I have any right to try to stop them,” I admit at last. “But I don’t like it. Not the idea of them—I think anyone who’s ever seen them together knows how much they love each other, and they have a right to be happy. But I’m not sure that’s possible. Alexander can love my mom more than anything in the world, but he’s still King, and being with him will shine a spotlight on her that’ll never go away. The press has already villainized her, and no amount of truth or damage control will change the fact that everyone—everyone knows about the darkest moments of her life.”

“And because of that, they can’t be together?”

I shake my head. “The media will never let it go, and the public will never forget what happened. No matter what comes next, she’ll always be the—the crazy mistress who tried to drown her daughter in a bathtub. At least if she’s out of the limelight, she’ll have a chance to move on with her life. She’ll have a chance to be more.”

Kit is quiet as we head deeper into the trees. Overhead, a bird breaks into song, and I crane my neck to find it, but it’s hidden in the endless bare branches.

“What if,” he says slowly, “your mum doesn’t want to be more?”

I frown. “Who wants to be defined by the worst thing that’s ever happened to them?”

Kit purses his lips. “For years, she’s been separated from the people she loves. She couldn’t be with Alexander because—well, obvious reasons, and she was scared to be around you in case she hurt you again. But now that everything’s out in the open, she’s here—in England, with you and Alexander. There’s nothing more the press can do to her. They have all her secrets, and you…you’re healthy. Thriving, even. She’s still careful with you—gentle, I mean,” he adds when I shoot him a confused look. “I can’t pretend to know what it must be like, surviving all she’s gone through, but I would imagine she’ll always be gentle with you. And the important thing is that she has you now, and you have her. And you both have Alexander. What would the point of all those terrible things be if she walked away? What could possibly be worth more than the love between the three of you?”

For a long moment, I say nothing, and I let myself picture it instead. My mom and Alexander, both of them happy—really, truly happy, despite the endless storm of bullshit the media would throw at them. “He’ll never divorce Helene,” I say. “And he’ll never marry my mom, either—it’d make her queen, and he wouldn’t do that to her. It would also be the biggest scandal in the history of the monarchy, besides maybe Henry VIII and his wives.”

“No monarch has divorced since, I’ll grant you,” says Kit. “But that’s hardly the equivalent of beheading two queens and creating a new religion.”

“Maybe not, but Helene’s the most idolized woman in the world,” I say. “There’s no way Alexander can leave her without becoming public enemy number one.”

“It would be…tricky,” he agrees. “But perhaps—”

Crack.

A loud noise echoes through the woods, and I glance up, sure that a tree branch has broken. But before I can even comprehend what’s happening, Kit’s arms are around me, and he dives toward the base of the nearest tree as another crack rings out, and then another.