“That’s somethingBenwill have to live with,” I correct him. “All you ever tried to do was give me and Alexander a chance to know each other. What happened after that was never your fault. And I’m a princess now, you know, so you have to believeme.”
He shakes his head, his eyes glittering with tears. “Never thought I’d see the day, Your Royal Highness.”
I make a face. I walked right into that one. “We have to lay some ground rules about titles and—whatever that is,” I say. “If no one’s calling my mom Your Majesty, then I deserve the right to be just Evan, too.”
“Whatever you say, Your Royal Highness,” says Jenkins with a bow of his head, and I huff, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him in for a tight hug.
“In spite of that,” I say, low enough so only he can hear me, “I hope you know how much I love you, too. You were there for me when no one else was, and you gave me something—someone—to hold on to. You’re as much my family as every other person in this room, okay? Don’t ever forget it.”
He hugs me back in silence, though I swear I can feel a warm splash of liquid on my bare shoulder as the seconds tick by. At last we separate, and he stands again, discreetly dabbing his face with a handkerchief. “Never, Your Royal Highness,” he says, and he winks before returning to his position facing the rest of the room, his expression as stoic as ever.
Kit returns a moment later with a small plate stacked high with biscuits for us to share, and as soon as he’s sitting beside me, I give him a long, lingering kiss, not caring who’s watching. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, a bit flushed. “Feeling better, then?”
“A little,” I agree, picking up the top cookie and nibbling on it. “You’ll be there the whole time, right?”
“I, er…” He pauses, plucking his own biscuit from the stack. “I’m not supposed to. It’s just you lot, not me.”
I scowl. “That’s ridiculous. If Helene’s coming—”
“That, I believe, was Astrid’s suggestion to stave off any public relations nightmare,” says Kit, amused. “I’m not Aunt Helene.”
“No, but you’re you,” I say. “Which is even better.”
“And I appreciate that very much,” says Kit, kissing my cheek. “But I’m afraid you’re not in charge of—”
“It’s time,” announces Jenkins, and all at once, everyone grows quiet. Even Helene and Nicholas, who have been talking quietly in the opposite corner, turn to focus on him, and Jenkins clears his throat. “Unlike Trooping the Colour, Your Royal Highnesses and Majesties will be going out in reverse of the usual order, with His Majesty and the Duchess of Lancaster appearing last.”
As everyone gathers in the center of the room, in front of the middle floor-to-ceiling window, I take Kit’s hand and lead him toward the bench, where my parents still sit. “The Duchess of Lancaster?” I say in greeting.
“It’s infinitely better than the Queen of England,” says my mom, and she stands to gather me in a warm embrace. “Besides, it’s technically true, considering your father’s also the Duke of Lancaster. I saw the footage from the chapel. You’re really okay?”
“Completely fine,” I promise, hugging her back. “I’m just glad we made a second dress so this one didn’t get sliced and diced,” I add as she lets go, and I gesture to the watercolor masterpiece I wore to the wedding. “Leave it to Ben to ruin couture.”
“Oh, sonowyou care?” says another voice behind us, and Maisie appears in her own version of the watercolor dress, with Gia’s hand clasped tightly in hers. “Baby steps are better than none, I suppose.”
I give her a look that doesn’t have much bite behind it. “Your ideas were genius. Locking him in, using voice samples to have his victims speak—”
“That bit was your doing, not mine,” says Maisie, though she tosses her strawberry waves over her shoulder. “I’m happy to take the credit, though.”
As always. I grin. “Dad—Kit’s joining us, right?”
Alexander looks between us. “I assumed so. Kit, is that all right with you?”
Kit shakes his head as the middle set of windows—which are actually glass doors—open, and a cool breeze fills the stuffy room. Outside, a cheer rises from the gathered crowd, and my insides squirm. “I couldn’t possibly leave Gia on her own. It would be terribly rude.”
“I won’t be alone,” says Gia. “I’ll have Tibby and Jenkins and Fitz—”
Maisie makes a face. “Kit, perhaps you ought to stay with her after all. I don’t trust Fitz. He’s been getting all of theseideaslately, like he’s trying to be Tibby or something.”
“You can’t have her,” I say immediately, and Maisie sniffs.
“If I want her, I’ll take her. But I’ll concede that she’s still yours. For now.”
Alexander clears his throat. “I suppose there’s only one thing for it, then,” he says. “Gia, you’re welcome to join us, too, if you’d like.”
All four of us are silent for a moment, and I quickly turn my gaze from my father to Maisie and Gia, who stand there, thunderstruck, staring at each other.
