Page 188 of The Royal Art of Revenge

She hesitates, then takes it. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she says quickly. “When you spoke about your panic attacks, you made a huge difference to my daughter. She used to fear them terribly, but when you shared how you manage them, her whole viewpoint changed. You changed her life.”

I swallow back a lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry she has to deal with that, but I’m so happy she found comfort in knowing she isn’t alone.”

Another woman steps up next to her and nods. “My son has struggled with them as part of his bipolar diagnosis. Someone as high-profile as yourself speaking so openly has made more of a difference than you know.”

My stomach twists.

Ah.

“Thank you so much. It’s very difficult, but it gives me strength knowing it helps. Are they both here today?”

They answer in the affirmative, and I have my schedule adjusted to make sure I’m visiting them. I spend the next two hours popping in and out of rooms and bays, meeting children and teenagers suffering with their mental health. I speak to parents and siblings and nurses and doctors. I hear stories of worry and hope. I hear laughter and wipe tears, and by the time I collapse into the car at the end of the day, I’m exhausted.

It’s something I’ve been slowly getting used to. I’ve had one engagement almost every week since the wedding, and sometimes, it’s all a bit much. They’re so strict and rigid, and there are so many people every single time.

I briefly meet Sophia’s gaze in the rearview mirror before I close my eyes. We travel back to the palace in silence, and when we arrive, I’m just as exhausted as I was before.

When we’re safely inside, I greet the police officers I see almost daily and enter the palace, then bid goodbye to the security team. I make my way up to the apartment Finn and I share, and the moment I enter, I kick off my shoes and head for the bathroom.

Engagements with kids are the hardest, especially visits like today.

Thank God today’s hospital was in St Peters.

I run a bath and climb in when it’s only half full. It’s more than enough to keep me warm, and I draw my thighs up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. I rest my cheek on the top of my knees and close my eyes.

Ah.

Peace.

“Hattie, are you back?”

I groan at Finn’s voice as it filters through the apartment. So much for my peace and quiet. “Yeah,” I call back. “In the bath.”

There’s a brief pause, then he shouts, “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“That depends on whether you have food!”

There’s a rustle, and I open my eyes to see him holding a paper bag through the doorway.

“You can come in,” I say.

He laughs and shuffles into the bathroom. He pulls the chair over from the corner and sits down, then lays out various snacks from the paper bag. “Hold on.” He briefly disappears and returns with a stemless wine glass filled halfway with my favourite red. “Okay, now you’re good.”

I grin at him. “What’s all this about?”

“You had a long day. Can’t a man treat his wife?”

“He can, but it makes his wife suspicious.”

He chuckles, but it peters out quickly enough that I know there’s something behind it. “All right, fine. I thought you should know that Jasmine left for the U.K. this morning. Alone. William and Rosalyn aren’t allowed to leave the country until their investigation is concluded, but Jasmine paid the fines.”

“Hmm.” I reach over to turn off the taps. “Do you think she’ll ever come back?”

Finn shakes his head. “Everyone here knows what she did. If she’s in the U.K., she can have a fresh start for the most part. I heard she’s considering moving to Edinburgh.”

“Not London?”

“No. It seems the whole situation reached there.”