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“Still asleep,” I mumble, and Tibby breathes a sharp sigh of relief.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. It’s sticking up in every direction thanks to the hair spray my stylist used yesterday, and I make a face. “Maisie had a rough night. What time is it?”

“Nearly eight o’clock,” she says softly. “His Majesty wishes to see you.”

“Everything all right?” says Kit from his spot on the floor, and when I glance down, his eyes are open, though he hasn’t moved. Maisie, mercifully, is still fast asleep.

“I couldn’t say,” says Tibby. “All Jenkins told me is that the King and Evan’s mother have requested that she join them for breakfast.”

“What about Maisie?” I say, slowly stretching my sore shoulder. It’s better than it was last night, but the ache is still persistent.

“I believe it would be best to let Her Royal Highness sleep,” says Tibby pointedly. And considering my sister’s puffy face and the dark shadows beneath her eyes, I can’t disagree.

After I leave a note for Maisie beside her phone, Kit and I extract ourselves from her sitting room, careful not to wake her. He ducks into his suite while I head into mine to shower and get dressed, and twenty minutes later, we’re walking down the long gallery together, toward the private dining room.

“Any idea what this is about?” I say, and Kit shakes his head.

“Maybe just a family breakfast.”

“Maybe,” I echo, but considering everything that happened yesterday, I’m not convinced. And with each step we take, my anxiety grows, until I’m absolutely sure that whatever this is, it isn’t good.

Alexander and my mother are waiting for us in the private dining room, and immediately I notice that it’s just us—there are no footmen lingering nearby, no kitchen staff bustling through the door with fresh dishes for the buffet, and I have to fight the urge to turn around and walk right back out.

“Good morning, Evie,” says my mom, and she joins me and kisses my hair. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” I admit, gingerly flexing my shoulder. “We stayed the night with Maisie.”

“How is she?” says Alexander from where he stands near the dining table. The smell of eggs and sausage and pancakes permeates the air, but my stomach only turns.

“Not great. Relationship stuff,” I add as he frowns. “You should ask her.”

Alexander nods grimly, but when I move to the buffet with my mom, I notice Kit is still lingering near the entrance.

“Should I…?” he says, his hands behind his back and his body angled toward the door.

“If you wouldn’t mind excusing us—” my father begins, but my mother cuts him off.

“Stay,” she insists, beckoning for him. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

“Laura,” says my father, but she gives him a look.

“He should be here for this,” she insists, and though Alexander purses his lips, he doesn’t argue. And while Kit looks about as nervous as I feel, he doesn’t protest, either.

With my fear that this isn’t a normal breakfast confirmed, my throat is tight, and all I get from the buffet is a cup of black coffee that’s too bitter for me to enjoy. We stick to small talk until we’re all seated at the table, with Kit beside me and my parents across from us, and as I study them both, I realize they look like they’re bracing themselves for a fight. Terrific.

“What’s going on?” I say, my stomach doing somersaults, and though my mother picks nervously at the dried paint on her nails, her gaze doesn’t leave mine.

“We have something we’d like to speak to you about, Evie. Something important.”

Instantly my exhaustion evaporates, and I glare at Alexander. “We talked about this.”

He turns pink. “This isn’t that, darling,” he reassures me. “Nothing’s changed between your mother and me. We simply…”

“We’d like to take you back to Virginia,” says my mom. “For the time being, until everything settles down.”

Despite all the possibilities running rampant through my mind, this one didn’t even occur to me. “What?” I say. “Why?”