They thought he was such a loose cannon, and he supposed in some ways he was, if you looked at the external shape of his behavior and judged it against an arbitrary standard. He didn’t act the way they thought the firstborn son of a duke should act. But when it came to this, when it came to shame and complicity and pretense, he toed the line every time. Why? Seb didn’t need his protection anymore. And Max didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought.

Except her. And she knew him. He found Dani in the crowd again. She was still looking at him. She had probably been keeping him in her sights this whole time. He nodded at her and pointed at his watch. A slow smile blossomed on her face. Her smile was knowing, seductive. The one that broke out on his face in answer was dopey. He could feel it. But he couldn’t do anything about it, so he hitched his head toward the exit. I’m leaving now. She held up a finger. I’ll follow in a bit.

And then he left. He just left.

Mother had left him alone that night in the nursery, but he saw now that he hadn’t actually let himself be left. He had spent his whole life proclaiming that he didn’t care about his parents’ indifference, that he was immune to their little cruelties. But part of him had held on.

Max had always thought that abandonment felt terrible. But it actually didn’t, not if you were really, truly abandoned. If you were no longer in anyone’s debt.

It felt like freedom.

There was a lightness in his step as he strode out of the ballroom. He jogged up the steps to the third floor. He wasn’t sure what the hurry was, only that little bursts of energy were propelling him, compelling him to move.

He paused after opening his door. It sounded like Seb was in his room across the hall—it sounded like he was doing jumping jacks in there.

He crossed the hall and rapped on Seb’s door, wanting to try to put into words his big revelation, to tell him about how he’d left Mother to deal with Father and how doing so had felt like a sort of liberation. He pushed the door open.

Ohhh.

Seb was not alone.

Seb was also not dressed.

Neither was the man who dived in front of Seb and covered him with his body.

And that man was not Mr. Benz. He was much bigger. His giant torso blocked Seb entirely from Max’s view. It was Torkel Renner, the head of palace security.