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He nods. “Just until your mother wakes. Why don’t you get some rest?”
Even though I want nothing more than to curl up with Kit, I can barely get comfortable in my own bed right now, let alone on a stiff sofa made in the Victorian era. And so I allow Alexander to help me to my bedroom door, where he hugs me again, a little longer than usual.
“Happy Christmas, Evie,” he murmurs, and when he lets me go, I smile up at him in the glow of the colorful lights.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I whisper, and just as I turn toward my bedroom door, I swear I see his eyes glisten.
I’m so tired that I can barely brush my teeth, and I give up on braiding my hair almost as soon as the thought crosses my mind. I stumble to my bed and ease down onto the edge, warm and full and feeling more hopeful than I have in ages, despite the photo album under the sofa and the stitches below my shoulder and the ache that tells me I need to take another painkiller. But as I shift to turn off my bedside lamp, I notice something on the nightstand.
A gift wrapped in silver paper.
Instantly my dreams from earlier that day come flooding back to me, and I see Constance bathed in pink light from the window—the light of the setting sun, I realize. With my heart suddenly pounding, I gingerly tear open the present and reveal a black velvet box underneath.
Inside is a simple diamond pendant hanging from a white-gold necklace. It’s beautiful, and as I touch the pendant, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a cubic zirconia, if only to drive home the metaphor of how I’ll never be the real thing. But as much as Constance despises me, she’s a queen, and I’m positive she’d never gift a fake diamond to anyone—even to me.
There’s a folded piece of card stock tucked into the top of the box, and I open it. Her handwriting is cramped and almost archaically difficult to read, but her signature is clear.
Dear Evangeline,
Happy Christmas.
Sincerely,
Her Majesty Queen Constance
That’s it. No explanation, no quippy insult—just a simple greeting, even less than I’d expect from a dentist or a site I ordered from three years ago trying to lure me back.
Exhausted and confused, I close the velvet box and set it aside. Maybe Alexander isn’t the only one who found some clarity in the fact that I almost died, but even though I know it’s uncharitable of me, I somehow doubt it.
As I finally rest my head on the pillow, however, another moment from that dream flashes through my mind. It wasn’t just Constance standing over me. Ben was there, too, in the indigo of twilight.
My eyes fly open, and I look around the dark room, as if I’ll find him lurking nearby, staring at me through the shadows. But he doesn’t need to anymore. I have the pictures to prove he’s always there, even when he isn’t, and I pull the blanket tighter around my aching body.
No matter where he is in the world, he’ll always be watching—and waiting for the right moment to make his next move.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Henrietta, it’s been ten days since Buckingham Palace confirmed a member of the royal family was seriously injured in a hunting accident on Sandringham Estate, yet we’ve had no further official updates.”
“No, and I expect we won’t, I’m afraid. Though with most of the royal family now enjoying the new year at the Klosters ski resort in Switzerland, simple process of elimination has all but confirmed the rumours that it was Evangeline who was injured.”
“Process of elimination?”
“She, the King, and Christopher Abbott-Montgomery, Earl of Clarence, are the only three members of the royal family missing from the trip. While His Majesty has never been particularly fond of Klosters, Lord Clarence seemed to enjoy himself last year with Princess Mary and Prince Benedict, and one might expect him to be eager to ring in the new year with Evangeline, as the pair have been dating for quite a while now.”
“Yet Buckingham Palace has refused to comment on any speculation regarding the incident.”
“If it truly was an accident, then it’s possible a devoted staff member or even a senior royal was also involved.”
“Also involved? How?”
“Well, presumably someone must have pulled the trigger.”
“And you believe it might have been another member of the royal family?”
“It would certainly be a twist, wouldn’t it? And it would explain the palace’s lack of communication regarding the matter. Royal courtiers would never allow such a thing to become public knowledge, even as a rumour.”
“And if it wasn’t an accident?”
