and he can’t even decide who to be the angriest with, himself or the Mail or the monarchy or the whole stupid country. Alex nearly crashes into Zahra’s back as she skids to a stop in front a door. He pushes the door open, and the whole room goes silent. His mother stares at him from the head of the table and says flatly, “Out.” At first he thinks she’s talking to him, but she cuts her eyes down to the people around the table with her. “Was I not clear? Everyone, out, now,” she says. “I need to talk to my son.”