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Suddenly the door flies open, and a sweaty Doyle bursts into the room, clutching a tablet. Despite the sea of people now staring at him, his wild eyes immediately find me.

“Pardon me, Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses,” he says with a quick bow to the head of the table. “I’m afraid there’s a matter that needs immediate attention.”

“Is there something more important going on than the attempt on His Majesty’s life?” says Jenkins calmly, and Doyle reddens.

“I—” He shakes his head, seeming to think better of it. “Jenkins, you need to see this.”

Doyle maneuvers past an irritable Maisie, and Kit presses against my chair to give him enough space to reach Jenkins. Breathing heavily, Doyle hands the tablet over, and as Jenkins examines the screen, he grows very, very still.

“What am I looking at?” he says in a quiet voice that doesn’t carry any farther than a few feet.

“That one right there…” Doyle reaches over to swipe to a separate page, still panting like he’s run a marathon. “Her identity was just released. And as you can see, she’s—”

“Everyone out.”

Jenkins’s commanding voice echoes off the walls, louder than I’ve ever heard him before, and a shocked murmur ripples through the crowd. Confused, I glance up at Kit, but his eyes are fixed on the tablet, and his fingers dig so deeply into the leather of my chair that I can’t even inch back enough to stand.

“You forget yourself, Jenkins,” snaps Constance, while Helene looks like she’s been slapped across the face.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” says Jenkins, his words unnervingly sharp as he pulls the tablet to his chest. “But I’m afraid we need to adjourn this meeting. I will be in touch with the Privy Council to make all the necessary arrangements, and in the meantime, it is my strongest recommendation that the royal family take a few hours to rest. The days ahead are bound to be difficult, and you will need your strength.”

But Maisie climbs to her feet, her annoyance with Nicholas transferring seamlessly to Jenkins. “Nothing could possibly be more important than this meeting,” she says hotly as she marches over. “We still have several matters to discuss, and—”

Jenkins bows his head as she approaches. “Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. Now that the royal council has been established, I fear this is currently a more pressing matter.”

“What—” she says, but he shows her the tablet, swiping between what seems like two pages, and her perfectly plucked brows furrow. “Is that—”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

“And that’s one of the people who…?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She goes white, and her eyes lock on mine for an unbearably long moment before she straightens. “You heard Jenkins,” she says. “Everyone out. Not you,” she adds, her gaze flickering toward me once more. “And certainly not you.”

This is directed toward Kit, who visibly gulps. By now, I’m practically burning with both curiosity and dread, but Jenkins and Maisie don’t offer a single hint as every senior adviser except Doyle shuffles out, all looking as baffled as I feel.

“I must insist that we stay,” says Constance once the room is nearly empty. Helene and Nicholas stand together at the head of the table now, but the Queen Mother hasn’t budged from her seat.

“And I’m afraid I must insist that you excuse us for the time being, Grandmama,” says Maisie. “I’ll see you all at breakfast as soon as we’re done here.”

Constance opens her mouth to argue, but Nicholas sets his hand on her shoulder. “Mother, let’s go,” he says quietly. “Whatever this is, the sooner it’s resolved, the sooner we can return to the matter at hand.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but after several seconds, it becomes clear that Maisie isn’t going to cave, and Constance narrows her eyes. “You’re every bit as insolent as your father,” she says as she stands. “Do try to remember that you aren’t the sovereign yet, darling.”

“A fact for which I am exceptionally grateful at the moment,” says Maisie hotly, glaring at Kit once more.

As soon as they’ve left, royal protection officers in tow, I wiggle out from between my seat and the table and finally stand. “What’s going on?” I demand, facing the four of them. “Kit?”

He shakes his head, his dark eyes focused on the carpet now. “I’m sorry, Evan,” he says with a desperate note in his voice. “I didn’t know. I thought…” He rakes his fingers through his hair and finally looks at me, and his face is full of such naked vulnerability and fear that my insides turn to lead. “I didn’t know.”

“Out of all the things you two could’ve done,” says Maisie, and to my shock, her voice catches like she’s about to cry. “Are you both out of your bloody minds?”

“What are you talking about?” I say, alarmed. “What is goingon?”

At last, with the reluctance of someone about to saw off their own limb, Jenkins shows me the tablet. I don’t know what to expect, but the possibilities racing through my mind are too horrible to contemplate for long—and not at all like the innocuous picture on the screen.

The red brick buildings of the town near Sandringham fill the background, and in the corner of the image, I can just make out the sign from Noble Norfolk Novelties, the ice cream-slash-gift shop Kit and I visited. I’m standing on the sidewalk with the redheaded Aoife, who hugs me like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Kit lingers beside us, looking nervously over his shoulder, while Aoife’s boyfriend—Dylan, I think—is facing away from the camera, his knit hat hiding any trace of his features.