An hour later, high on my own supply, I’d bought a hideous, scratchy sweater for almost nothing at H&M, picked up croissants at a bakery for next morning’s breakfast, tried some free samples at Boots, and pressed my luck by reading a paper out in the open that had an actual photo of me on it. I could have stayed out all day, but the sheer number of smartphones and swelling scrums of shoppers started to make me jumpy, so I decided to count my blessings and go home. This plan fell apart when I realized that I hadn’t thought about how I was going to get back inside the palace, but I’d practically brought enough cash to bail myself out of jail, so I bought a ticket like everyone else and skulked back past the gift shop with its crimson signs marked ROYAL WEDDING SOUVENIRS: CLEARANCE SALE, 80% OFF.

I hesitated, then picked up my phone and sent a quick selfie to Lacey.

I’m on a field trip, I texted. Then I slid my phone back into my pocket and nonchalantly bought a mug with my own face on it. My phone buzzed as I was heading back out to the bathrooms.

YOU REBEL, Lacey had replied.

The corridor near the bathrooms was busier now. But I couldn’t bail and reenter through our main gate, because I’d have to reveal myself—to the guards, and possibly also to the paparazzi that lingered nearby, if not directly outside—and Margot would be exposed. So I hovered near the water fountain until there was a mild slowdown in bathroom traffic, then muttered, “TP empty in stall three—I’m on it” into my collar like some kind of custodial spy, and slipped into the cleaning closet. The next step was more complicated: All Nick had told me about getting back into their apartments was that they’d pulled the fire alarm, which now that I was supposed to do it seemed absurd and also like a felony. Wildly, I looked around the room, clocking the stock of toilet paper and hand sanitizer and the fire alarm itself, plus some mops and buckets and a fire alarm, and…aha, two fire alarms. One by the door, and the other poking out from behind a tall set of metal shelves. It looked substantially older and the plastic around it was cracked, but artfully so, as if to give the impression it was defunct. I could hear voices in the hallway getting nearer, so I took a deep breath, lifted the plastic casing, and pulled.

The door back to Freddie’s place sprang open. Biting back a triumphant whoop, I scrambled through and pulled it closed, running back through the tunnel and tumbling out the other side as an elated giggle escaped my lips. I’d done it.

“That’s quite a getup you’re sporting, Killer.”