“I realize you’re both in a difficult place in your lives,” saysTibby, “but for what it’s worth, Kit loves you, and sometimes a break reallyisjust a break—”
“Tibby,” I say shakily. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Please.”
She sighs, as if I’m yet another hindrance to an annoying problem she’s been trying to solve for ages. “Very well. Get it all out now. There will be no crying during the interview, at least not about him. No longing gazes, no letting the public know you two are on the rocks—”
“Tibby,please.” My voice cracks, and I finally look at her again. “Just leave me alone.”
She purses her lips. “It’s my job not to, and I have no intention of starting now. But I will drop the subject, if you insist—”
Someone clears their throat, and Tibby and I both look up at the lanky figure of Doyle’s assistant, who’s gone pale and is clutching the back of the seat across the aisle.
“Sorry, sorry, very sorry,” he says, his words stumbling all over themselves. Tibby mutters something under her breath.
“Are you here for a reason, Miller?” she says, and he hesitates.
“Astrid, er—Miss Clark’s just messaged,” he says. “Apparently Lord Clarence is, er…” He clears his throat. “Well, he’s missing.”
Chapter Seventeen
Royal Fans Gather Outside Hotel to Greet Evangeline and Lord Clarence
Royal watchers and fans of Evangeline Bright, daughter of His Majesty and Laura Bright, and Christopher Abbott-Montgomery, Earl of Clarence, battled the February chill to spend all day lined up in front of the Maychester Hotel in Mayfair, eager to show their support for the royal couple-turned-spies.
Though the pair were seemingly universally reviled for their apparent roles in the bombing of the Modern Music Museum in London on the 12th of January, MI5 has released several statements over the past week making widely known the couple’s heroic—and historic—efforts to help corner the leaders of the terrorist organization the Army of the British Republic. Though neither Bright nor Clarence have spoken publicly about the monthlong operation that centered on the city of Oxford, where Clarence attends university, that is expected to change tonight as the pair are interviewed live on air by Henrietta Smythe, former member of the Royal Rota and author ofRoyal Rebel,the unofficial biography of Bright released in December.
“I can’t believe they managed to keep it from us this whole time,” says Fiona Quint, a fourteen-year-old fan from Watford. “Can you imagine how dangerous it must have all been? And we even heard Evangeline was kidnapped!”
Rumours of a royal abduction have been all but confirmed by MI5, though details remain scarce, as has any information regarding Bright and Clarence’s exact roles in the investigation.Clarence was photographed daily attending his lectures, but Bright was never spotted by the general public, a feat considering she is now one of the most recognizable celebrities in the world.
Tune in to BBC One at 7p.m. for the full live interview.
—The Daily Sun, 12 February 2024
At 6:30p.m., thirty minutesbefore the live interview is set to begin, there’s still no sign of Kit.
How Astrid lost him, I have no idea—nor, apparently, does anyone else on his security team, which has been scrambling since the moment they discovered his flat in Oxford empty that morning.
I call him again and again, hoping for a miracle each time I press his number, but it never rings. Instead, I get his voice mail for almost exactly an hour after we land until the message changes, declaring his inbox full.
“Are you prepared to do this yourself, Evangeline?” says Astrid, who’s been pacing a path into the carpet of our suite at the Maychester Hotel. Even her growing apprehension doesn’t detract from how dazzling she looks in person, her posture perfect and her skin glowing, but when I look at her, all I can see is Kit’s touch. “If we cancel now, the entire campaign will be called into question—”
“I strongly disagree,” cuts in Tibby, who sits cool and collected on a love seat as she plays with my puppy. Despite how often Astrid has addressed me directly today, Tibby has answered for me every single time. “Given the spread of theRegal Record’s tasteless article over social media and in the more unsavorycorners of the internet today, I’m certain the general public would understand if we rescheduled.”
“No,” says Astrid, “they would not. They’ll spin conspiracy theories out of it, and this supposedly isolated incident will be enough to pull more than the usual crackpots into it. Kitmustbe here, and if he isn’t—if he’s really going to let us down like this—then Evangeline needs to be prepared to go on by herself.”
“She won’t be by herself,” says Tibby, still supremely unbothered. “She’ll have Agent Singh with her.”
“Unless she’s been in a secret relationship with Singh for almost a year, then that’s hardly anything to work with,” says Astrid, and I turn away from the pair of them and pretend to study my reflection in the mirror.
Louis Jenkins, the official royal stylist, has done a magnificent job making me look like a polished version ofmefor once, with a soft leather jacket, fitted black jeans, and Dr.Martens that lace up nearly to my knees. But all I care about is the empty chair and vanity next to me, and the cluster of stylists still waiting in case, by some miracle, Kit does show.
If he was going to make it, though, he would have called, or found some way to get in touch—if not with me, then with Astrid. Worrying everyone down to the last minute isn’t his style, and my stomach is in knots so tight that it takes me a moment to realize that everyone is now staring at me.
“What?” I say, nonplussed.
“Are you willing to do this alone?” repeats Astrid, her frustration clear. “Because it’s fairly obvious by now that Kit has no intention of being here, and—”
“On the contrary,” says a heart-achingly familiar voice, and we all turn simultaneously.
