Something inside me thaws a little at that, and my grip on the desk relaxes. “You’d really go through the scandal of having her arrested? For me? Even though I’m fine?”
“Yes,” he says, looking me straight in the eye. “I mean it, Evie. You are every bit as important to me as she is, and you have never—neverbeen extra or disposable, or even the slightest bit lesser in any way to me. You are my daughter, and I have loved you with everything I am from the moment I knew you existed. And I will do whatever it takes, for however long it takes, for the rest of our lives if need be, for you to believe me.”
Pushing off the desk, I hug him again, speechless. He embraces me in return, tight and unyielding, even though I know he would let go in an instant if I asked. But no matter the distance or tension between us, there is one thing I believe now that I didn’t when I arrived in England last year:
He’s not just my father. He’s my dad, in every way I’ve ever wanted. And while we may have endless obstacles in the road ahead of us, this is the first time they’ve felt smaller than the bond growing between us. We may not be totally okay today or tomorrow, and with Maisie, I might never be again. But at least now that hope feels permanent.
Chapter Thirty
Changes Coming to Line of Succession—Who’s In, Who’s Out?
With the Royal Wedding less than twenty-four hours away, palace courtiers have confirmed that a massive change is coming to the line of succession.
With the buzz around Princess Mary’s alleged illegitimacy only growing over the past weeks, as the palace has steadfastly refused to comment on the rampant rumours that have plagued our beloved princess, many members of both the public and the media have speculated that it is Mary, current heir to the throne, who may be the one removed from the line of succession. As unlikely as that may seem to those outside the palace walls, one anonymous adviser close to His Majesty has confirmed those suspicions.
“His Majesty and the former Queen know they’ve been caught, and there’s nothing they can do about it now. Better to take care of the problem as it is—with Princess Mary’s permission, considering she doesn’t want a reign that will only be questioned and ridiculed—than to let it fester and create distrust between the public and the monarchy.”
Another source deeply entrenched in the royal family’s day-to-day life agrees. “After being mocked for weeks, Mary is done. She’s happy to shed the burden of the throne, and she sees this as a chance to live the rest of her life as her authentic self. The crown will pass to the Duke of York and his heirs, including Prince Benedict of York, likely much sooner rather than later, considering the whispers that His Majesty plans to abdicate once the next election cycle is finished. He’s quite serious about living out the rest of his years with his new bride and daughter, and he wants nothingto get in the way of their peace and happiness together.”
A royal announcement is reported to be coming soon after the wedding between His Majesty and Laura Bright tomorrow afternoon, the details of which have been kept private. Though the ceremony is expected to take place at St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, an appearance on the balcony at Buckingham Palace is anticipated soon after the statement regarding the line of succession.
—The Daily Sun, 4 October 2024
In the weeks leading upto my parents’ wedding, I don’t see any sign of Maisie.
As far as I know, she’s still at Windsor, but at the same time, I’m not exactly keeping track of her. It’s possible she’s spending time at Kensington with Helene and Nicholas, or maybe at St.James’s Palace, Constance’s London home. Either way, I’m grateful I don’t have to look her in the eye, considering I still don’t know how to feel about what she did—both the whole attempted-poisoning thing and the turning-herself-in thing, possibly to give Alexander and Singh the evidence they need to convict Ben if it comes to it.
I keep busy most of the time anyway, between appearances with Kit, self-defense training with varying PPOs, and helping my mother with the few parts of the wedding she’s been entrusted with. The menus are set; the location is set; even the flowers were chosen for her by a flock of royal wedding planners who barely listen to a word she says. But she gets a say in her hair, makeup, and dress, though she’s restricted on which silhouettes she can wear. The flockdoeseventually decide she’s allowed to wear certain shades of white, even though I obviously exist.But since she’s never been married,andsince she and Alexander were engaged before he married Helene, it’s all some giant religious technicality, and in the end, the Archbishop of Canterbury even agrees to officiate the ceremony. Which is, according to the media frenzy that follows this announcement, a deeply controversial decision.
“Alex just texted,” says my mom, who hates using phones and only has my number and Alexander’s in hers. “Victor Stephens says he’s arrived.”
“Really?” I say, twisting to look at her and earning myself a disapprovingtskfrom Louis, who kneels next to the fitting platform I’m standing on, his mouth full of pins as he alters the hem of my bridesmaid dress. “They’ll have someone on him the whole time, right?”
“Naturally.” She tucks her phone away in the pocket of her apron and picks up her paintbrush again, studying me. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Evie? I’m worried.”
“Don’t be, Mom,” I say. “Really. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Except I don’t, andIam definitely worried, even if I don’t want her to be. I’m worried about everything—what could go wrong, what might go right, and what elements we need to pull this off with as few hitches as possible. I’m not sure I have them all, even though I’ve run through the scenario a zillion times in my head, out loud, and on paper, with as many different people as I can.
Something is missing, though, and I can’t put my finger on it. And if I can’t figure it out by tomorrow, I might be the reason Ben gets away with all of it.
“What about you?” I say, smoothing my hands down the front of the fitted bodice. My mother may be restricted to shades of ivory and pearl, but she insisted that Maisie and I choose splashes and combinations of our favorite bold jewel tones for our dresses. “Areyousure you’re ready for this?”
She seems to realize that we’re not talking about Ben anymore, and she smiles a bit dreamily as she focuses on her canvas. “Sweetheart, I’ve been ready since I was nineteen.”
“I don’t mean—” I begin, but Louis slides the final pin out of his mouth and motions for me to turn.
“Other side, my dear,” he says, and I do so, watching my mom in the huge trifold mirror now. “Perfect. Hold still.”
Once I’m sure I’m not standing wrong, I try again. “I don’t mean marrying Alexander. Obviously you’re happy about that, even though the ceremony’s going to be about as stuffy as a turkey on Thanksgiving.”
She laughs. “That’s one way to put it. But I don’t care about the details, Evie. Just the person waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I can take a little stuffiness if it means getting to spend the rest of my life with him.”
I understand that sentiment more than I want to admit. “What about the paparazzi?” I say. “The endless commentary from all corners of the world? Everyone having an opinion about you, even though you’ve never met? The rumors, the gossip, the—the lack of privacy—everything—”
“Yes,” says my mother emphatically, and she looks at me through the reflection, paintbrush hanging in midair. “Evie, I understand why you’re nervous. I am, too, for plenty of reasons. But this isn’t like it would’ve been when your father and I wereyoung. It’s different now. We’ll be well protected, and while we won’t be able to hide from the world completely, we’re far more prepared for the difficult moments. For better and for worse, right?”
“Right,” I say, and I press my lips together, trying not to frown and give myself away. But she’s my mom, and even though we spent seven long years of my childhood apart, she still knows me better than anyone.
