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“It hasn’t happened yet,” I say, trying to sound reassuring, even though the idea still makes me reel. “Everyone coming to this meeting was hired by Alexander for a reason, and they know what they’re doing. Listen to them. Listen to your mom and Nicholas, and remember they’re all there to support you, not the other way arou—”

A sharp knock cuts me off, and even though this is my apartment, Maisie calls for whoever it is to enter. A beat later, Jenkins opens the door, his expression even more somber than it was when he left me in Tibby’s hands.

My heart drops to my knees. “What’s wrong? Is Alexander—”

“His Majesty’s condition has not changed,” he says hastily. “But I fear there is a…situation in the conference room that requires Her Royal Highness’s immediate attention.”

I glance at Maisie, and she smooths the fear from her face and draws herself up to her full height. In the space of a single heartbeat, she goes from my terrified half sister to heir to the throne—one who could become queen at any moment—and I bite my lip, silently wondering if this is the last time I’ll see her like that. Raw and vulnerable and genuine, without the weight of the entire country and Commonwealth on her shoulders.

As the three of us head into the long gallery, we’re joined by a nervous-looking Tibby and a silent but steady Kit, who gives me a questioning look. I shrug. Whatever’s going on now, I suspect there are a lot of situations that are going to require Maisie’s attention, and this kind of grave urgency is something we all need to get used to.

As we climb the staircase to the upper floors, I wince at the pain in my leg, and Kit wordlessly takes my elbow. I have no right to complain, not when Ingrid’s dead and Alexander’s fighting for his life, but I’m still embarrassingly slow, and by the time Kit and I catch up to the others, they’re standing in front of the closed doorway to the conference room.

Fitz, Maisie’s private secretary, is already waiting for her, his suit jacket wrinkled and his red hair sticking up like he hasn’t brushed it in days. Tibby doesn’t even try to hide her disdain, and as he briefs Maisie in a low voice, she joins Kit and me, her scowl deep and her jaw set.

“Utterly incompetent. Has he never heard of a bloody comb?” mutters Tibby before refocusing on me. “I expect you won’t have to do or say much. Just listen, and remember that everyone inside that room is there to keep things running as smoothly as possible in His Majesty’s absence. And if Maisie seems like she needs a break, it’s completely within your rights to call for—”

“What?” My sister’s voice cuts through Tibby’s murmur, and Fitz flushes.

“I—I’m very sorry, Your Royal Highness, but there was nothing I could do—”

Maisie lets out a curse so vile that even Tibby looks taken aback, and Jenkins steps forward. “Security is on standby, Your Royal Highness,” he says. “Should you choose that particular route.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but my sister grits her teeth and pushes open the door with the force of a tornado. I glance at Kit, both alarmed and intrigued, and we follow her into the room just in time to see Maisie round on someone sitting near the empty seat at the head of the table.

“How dare you show your face now,” she says, her voice shaking with fury. “You’ve no right to be here. None.”

“I think you’ll find that I have every right to be here, especially now,” says a mild voice that chases away every trace of exhaustion inside me, leaving nothing but adrenaline and anger behind.

Sitting beside his father, with his blond hair pushed back casually from his face and his lips twisted into the faintest hint of a smirk, is Ben.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A job well done.

That depends entirely on whether he’s still breathing.

No updates yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.

How did you manage it, anyway?

What did I tell you about asking questions?

It’s already done. There’s no harm in telling me.

I lost loyal followers to this, and I’ve taken enough of a risk without giving you something else to hold over me.

What happened to mutually assured destruction?

Forgive me for thinking you’d ever pay the price.

Send me an update as soon as you hear. I need to plan our next move.

I’ve already moved forward with the photo. It should hit the news cycle any moment now. Was she one of them?

Yes. Not an easy loss.

It’ll all be worth it. For both of us.