“Here we are, Henrietta, yet again talking about the newest explosive story to come out of—well, Buckingham Palace this time, isn’t it?”
“The palace has issued no official statement regarding Prince Benedict’s interview this morning with ITV News, nor can we expect them to address it at all, considering the heinousness of His Royal Highness’s claims.”
“Does that mean you don’t believe Prince Benedict when he claims that…well, I suppose we have to say it, though we ask you all to keep in mind that we are merely restating the prince’sallegedaccusations to pass along the information to you, our viewers, rather than to perpetuate any sordid tales that would not bear repeating, should they have come from any lesser source.”
“A disclaimer if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Yes, I’m sure the lawyers have been working on it all day. Here it is, then: In case you’ve missed it, the third in line to the throne, Prince Benedict of York, has come out with an extravagant claim that his cousin, Princess Mary, heir to the throne, is in fact his half sister through his father, the Duke of York. And considering that Queen Helene has already admitted to an affair with her former husband’s brother…”
“It’s like something out of a soap opera, isn’t it?”
“Straight out ofEastEnders,Henrietta.”
“Yes, well, we must keep in mind that Prince Benedict himself was an infant when this affair supposedlyoccurred and is therefore making these claims from secondhand knowledge, if that, as there’s simply no way he could remember any of these events himself. And while of course we must always consider the slight possibility that such a scandal is true, it’s highly,highlyunlikely, given this is a revered institution, not a Hollywood movie.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that this revered institution is made up of flawed human beings who have already admitted to having a stormy and extremely complicated relationship among themselves during those years and beyond.”
“Indeed. But tofathomthe thought that they would allow something like this to happen, in a time of DNA testing and when Alexander himself already wished to abdicate…I have a hard time believing that he would abandon the love of his life, Laura Bright, who was already pregnant with his child, to remain married to a woman who was not only allegedly having an affair with his brother, but who also carried his brother’s child and was trying to pass the baby off as the heir to the throne. It’s absurd.”
“And if they didn’t know?”
“The date on the alleged DNA test posted online that claims to confirm Princess Mary is the Duke of York’s child was supposedly taken while Her Majesty was in her first trimester, before the pregnancy was even announced to the public. So, should all this be true—which isdeeplyunlikely even under the most forgiving of circumstances—His Majesty would have, in fact, walked away from his own biological child with Laura Bright to remain King and pretend to be a father to his own brother’s daughter. It’s completely illogical, especially for someone who claimed he didn’t want the crown. None of it adds up.”
“Or perhaps His Majesty was part of a solution that protected his niece, brother, wife, and the royal institution itself from unnecessary humiliation.”
“Throughout history, we’ve seen plenty of examples of what the monarchy is willing to do to protect its image, and had this truly been any sort of scandal inthe making, this would have been properly taken care of long before it ever became a problem.”
—ITV News’s interview with Henrietta Smythe, 19 September 2024
It takes Alexander, Singh, andhalf the palace’s lawyers two days to put the plan into place.
The whole production is actually impressive, considering every royal and legal precedent they’re working around, but I stay out of it beyond my singular contribution at the meeting, content to hear general updates from Tibby and leave it at that.
Kit and I focus on expanding my—and eventually our—patronages instead, both of us determined to act like the monarchy isn’t one wrong move from falling apart. Maisie tries to visit seven times in those two days, but I ignore her pleas, leaving Kit to turn her away. He does so again and again without asking why, but the question grows heavier between us until it threatens to break something, and I know we’re on thin ice.
“Was the DNA test her idea?” asks Kit during lunch on the second day, minutes after he’s turned her away again.
“Maisie’s?” I say casually, stirring chunks of grilled cheese sandwich straight into my tomato soup.
“Yes, Maisie’s,” says Kit, ignoring his own bowl. “You don’t want to give her your DNA, do you?”
I check the clock.12:19.Forty-one minutes to go. “It’s a long story. I’ll do it if it comes to it. If…if all this doesn’t work.”
“If it doesn’t, then no one’s going to force you,” he saysprotectively. “You’re worth more to this family than backup DNA and an easy way out, Ev.”
“Tell that to Maisie and Helene,” I mumble. A DNA test that proves Ben wrongisan easy out, or at least an easy way to turn down the temperature on the roaring hell that has become Maisie’s life. And it’s only a matter of time before Maisie isn’t the only one knocking on my door.
But I don’t owe her a damn thing. I can give her my blood if I want to, if it comes to it, but the bond between us will never be the same. I’ll never be able to trust her again, and I will always question her motives and whether she even wants to be family at all. That, more than the poison, more than Maisie bringing up the DNA test in the meeting, is what hurts the most.
“It’ll work, right?” I say, even though Kit’s already reassured me a dozen times.
“It’ll work,” he says, his voice low and certain. “It’s about bloody time the palace lawyers earn their keep, and they won’t let an opportunity like this slip through their fingers.”
Except it’s not up to them, and that’s the most terrifying part of all. None of us can do a damn thing about this except wait, and I’m crawling out of my skin as the clock ticks closer and closer to one o’clock.
The door bursts open without warning, and Tibby hurries into our sitting room. “Evan, I hope you’re wearing something appropri—” She stops mid-sentence and sighs, taking in my Reignwolf T-shirt and hot-pink leggings. “I suppose that’ll have to do. Find a jumper and let’s go.”
“Go?” I say, my heart crashing into my ribs. “Where?”
