American Royals (11 page)

Until Daphne started dating the prince.

As it turned out, Himari had wanted Jefferson too. Of course she did; half of America had daydreams about him. Yet somehow Daphne, who prided herself on knowing people’s intentions almost before they knew them themselves, hadn’t seen it coming.

“We
were
friends, weren’t we?” she said softly, knowing that Himari wouldn’t answer. “You weren’t just pretending the whole time?”

Those seven days, from Himari’s birthday through the twins’ graduation party, had caused Daphne to doubt and second-guess everything. She wanted to believe that Himari had cared about her, that once upon a time their friendship had been real.

Because, even after everything that had happened, Daphne missed her friend. Her haughty, snarky, insightful friend who always seemed to know too much for her own good.

She cast a swift, cautious glance around the room. Even now, behind a closed door, she couldn’t be too careful. Then she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the back of Himari’s hand, closing her eyes as if begging for a benediction that would never come.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” Daphne whispered. “It all went so wrong. I just wish … I wish you had
talked
to me. You didn’t leave me many options, Himari.”

Daphne wasn’t like the other aristocrats, the ones whose families had been titled since the Revolution, who grew up trained in the rules of elegant behavior. She had a boxer’s instinct when it came to fighting, and Himari had backed her into a corner.

She wished she could shed a tear for her friend. But Daphne couldn’t remember the last time she had cried. Probably before Himari’s accident.

Maybe she’d lost the ability to let herself show weakness. Maybe the guilt had dried up her tear ducts, and she would never be able to cry again.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Daphne repeated.

There was no reaction from Himari, not even a flicker of an eyelid, to show that Daphne’s words had registered at all.

“What’s the name of Juliet’s cousin in
Romeo and Juliet
?” Rachel glanced up from her laptop to where Nina stood at the opposite table, organizing books onto wheeled metal carts.

They were in the workroom at Dandridge, the main library at King’s College. Technically this space was supposed to be employees only, but no one minded when Nina brought Rachel back here. None of the other library staff were even working today.

“Tybalt,” Nina answered automatically, then paused. “Why are you writing about Shakespeare for your Russian history paper?”

Rachel pulled her arms overhead in a stretch, as if she’d been in the library all day rather than a single hour. “I took a break to do an online crossword. It’s important to take breaks, you know, to keep the creative well full.”

“You’re writing a four-page history paper, not a novel,” Nina teased.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call from Samantha. Nina declined the call, then typed a quick text.
I’m at work, can I try you later?

Her mind whirled as she tried to figure out what exactly she would tell Sam. The princess had been checking in with her all week, urging Nina to spend New Year’s at the Washingtons’ house in Telluride. Nina had gone on that trip almost every year for the past decade; she’d even learned to snowboard with Sam and Jeff’s private instructor.

She wanted to be there for Sam, who’d been noticeably dejected ever since the ball last weekend—when she kissed that guy from Boston, only to learn that he was going on a date with
Beatrice.

But how could Nina face Jefferson after what happened on the balcony that night?

“How about this one: ‘empire founder.’ Caesar? Except it’s eight letters …”

“Augustus,” Nina supplied, trying and failing not to think of Jeff. Augustus was one of his names, as was Alexander: the only thing missing was William, or perhaps Attila, and then he would literally be named for all the great conquerors of world history. For someone who wasn’t the heir, he sure had a lot of power packed into those four names.

“You know, you could use the internet for this, instead of asking me,” she pointed out.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Nina shook her head, smiling. She didn’t actually mind that Rachel kept peppering her with questions. It would have been different if she were reading, but sorting books was second nature to Nina by now. She knew the Dewey decimal system by heart. Honestly, she might have taken this job even if it hadn’t been required by the work-study terms of her scholarship, if only for an excuse to spend extra time in the library.

Nina had been raised on a steady diet of books. The weekends that her parents used to work, when she didn’t want to go to the palace, Nina would beg them to drop her at their local branch library. She happily spent the whole day there, working her way through the library’s children’s section, in both English and Spanish. She and her mom always played a game at the end of the day, where Nina had to describe the book she was reading in as creative a way as possible. Never cross a reptile—
Peter Pan.
Don’t be fooled by a reflection—
Alice in Wonderland.
And so on.

Here at the campus library, Nina’s job was to collect books from the return chute and put them back in their places on the shelves. It was actually pretty fun, seeing how diverse people’s research needs were. She never knew what she would come across, from the memoirs of King Zog of Albania to a seventeenth-century cookbook that she’d actually copied a recipe from. It reminded Nina just how much knowledge there was, out in the world.

“Logan is an awful texter,” Rachel complained, frowning down at her phone. A bright turquoise sweatshirt slid off one shoulder. In the months Nina had known her, she’d never seen Rachel wear an article of clothing that was either black or white; her entire wardrobe seemed positively fluorescent.

“What did he say?” Nina paused over a tattered cloth-bound book titled
Extinct and Dormant Peerages.
Did this go under gentry, or heraldry? She waved its bar code under the scanner to check.

“I told him that I couldn’t go to the party tonight because I have to write this paper, and all he said was ‘Best of luck’! What do you think that means?” Rachel pursed her lips. “Is he
trying
to blow me off?”

“You might finish in time for the party if you tried to work, instead of procrastinating,” Nina reproved gently. “It’s only seven.”

Rachel reached up to ruffle her curly hair, making it stick up as though she’d emerged from an electrical storm. “I just wanted to hang out with you before winter break. I missed you last weekend.”

Nina shifted uncomfortably. She hated lying, but no way could she tell Rachel that she’d missed the Queen’s Ball watch party so that she could actually
go
to the Queen’s Ball. She especially couldn’t tell her about what had happened afterward, on the balcony.

“Besides,” Rachel went on, “I like working in here. It makes me feel like a VIP of the library.”

“I know, it’s totally glamorous,” Nina deadpanned.

Rachel laughed, tipping her chair up onto its back legs, then letting it clatter down. “Remind me, you’ll still be in town on New Year’s Eve, right? I was thinking of organizing something.”

Before Nina could answer, her phone buzzed with another incoming call. She started to decline, assuming it was Samantha again—but then Nina saw who it was, and her heart leapt into her throat. She stepped out of the small workroom and into the hallway, lowering her voice.

“Nina! Please tell me you haven’t had dinner yet,” Prince Jefferson said warmly.

“No—um, I’m working,” she stammered.

“Does that mean you can come meet me at Matsu?”

“You mean
Matsuhara
?” It was one of the most expensive white-tablecloth restaurants in Washington.

“I’m craving sushi,” Jeff said simply. “Come on, please? Don’t make me eat that crispy tuna rice all by myself.”

Nina swallowed against a flurry of conflicting emotions. Was he asking her on a
date
?

“I’m wearing jeans and sneakers,” she said, evading the question. “Besides, I’m not sure …”
I’m not sure it’s the best idea.

“Oh,” he said slowly. “Um—that’s okay. I understand.”

The words were casual, yet threaded with a distinct note of disappointment. For some strange reason that changed Nina’s mind.

Why
shouldn’t
she go to Matsuhara? Was she so afraid of Jeff that she couldn’t handle a single sushi dinner across the table from him?

“Actually … okay. I’ll meet you there.” Her throat felt very dry.

She swore she heard his smile on the other end of the phone. “That’s fantastic. Should I send a car for you?”

“
No.
It’s okay.” The last thing Nina needed was to be seen getting into one of the royal town cars here on campus. She’d barely gotten away with it last time.

She ducked back into the staff room, trying not to reveal how suddenly flustered she felt. “Hey, Rach, I need to go. If anyone asks, will you tell them I’ll come back tomorrow morning to reshelve those?” She nodded at the books stacked on the metal wheeled cart. “And just make sure that the door locks behind you when you leave.”

Rachel stared at her, not bothering to hide her curiosity. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

“Sort of. I mean, yes, it’s okay, but I need to go.” Nina considered saying that her mom had called, but decided it was better to be vague than to tell a flat-out lie. She’d seen enough of the royal family’s PR operations to know that it was a safer policy.

Rachel nodded, her eyes scouring her friend. “Sure thing. See you soon.”

Tossing her bag over one shoulder, Nina headed out the library’s main doors and trotted down the steps. The iconic carved lions that stood on either side of the stairs bared their teeth at her in perpetual growls.

Matsuhara was empty when she got there. Empty, that is, of everyone except the security guards stationed at the entrance, their arms folded impassively over their chests—and Jeff, who was seated alone at a central table.

“What is this?” Nina breathed, halting in her tracks. “Where is everyone?”

Jeff stood to pull out her chair. Numbly, she sat in it. “It’s just us tonight,” he told her, as if a complete restaurant buyout were no big deal. “I know you don’t really like the spotlight, so I thought it might be better if we kept a low profile.”

“Um … okay.” Nina glanced around the rest of the dining room, at the round tables with their empty banquettes of buttercup-yellow leather. Behind a sushi bar of sanded hinoki wood, a pair of chefs worked in coordinated silence.

“Why did you do all this?”

Jeff leaned his elbows onto the table. He was wearing a button-down, its creases crisply ironed. “I remember your parents used to always take you out for sushi on special occasions,” he said. “And this felt like a special occasion. I mean, I did consider flying us to Tokyo, so we could get it directly from the source,” he went on, “but my parents have both of the planes today.”

“Jeff …”

He burst out laughing at the expression on her face. “I was
kidding,
Nina.”

Oh. With the royal family, sometimes it was hard to tell.

She was saved from further talk by the arrival of a Japanese man in a white chef’s coat and oversized glasses. “Your Highness, it is an honor to host you this evening. May I present the first course?”

Nina was about to tell him that they hadn’t ordered, but a pair of waiters had already sailed in from the kitchen to deposit an appetizer before each of them. “A selection of toro and caviar. Please enjoy.” The chef gave a deferential nod and melted away.

She glanced down at her plate. The soy-sauce reduction was drizzled so beautifully that it seemed almost sinful to disturb it. The carved chopsticks looked like works of art in her hands. Nina realized how out of place her tattoo was, and started to pull her sleeve farther down her wrist, then decided against it.

“What were you working on when I called?” Jeff asked, politely waiting for her before he took a bite.

“I was at my job. I work in the library, as part of my scholarship.” Nina said it proudly. She had no shame about where she came from.

She forced herself to try the caviar, which she generally avoided when it was served at royal functions. As usual, all she tasted was salt. She set her chopsticks down with an inadvertent clatter.

“You don’t like it?” Jeff asked, watching her.

Nina saw the sous-chefs glance over with sharp eyes. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t sit here in this vast room, which should have echoed with voices and laughter and the clinking of glasses, but was instead heavy with silence. It was all too stifling. Too
much.

Jeff had probably taken Daphne Deighton on this type of date every weekend. But Nina wasn’t anything like Daphne, and if she and Jeff were going to have the slightest chance of making this work—whatever this even
was
—then he needed to understand that.

“Honestly, no. I hate caviar.” Nina’s voice was barely audible over the ambient classical music. “Jeff, you shouldn’t have done all this.”

“I told you, it’s a special—”

“No,” she insisted. “This date is …”
Extravagant, glitzy, over the top.
“Thoughtful,” she said, compromising. “But it isn’t
me.
”

Jeff blinked at her in astonishment. Nina wondered if she’d upset him, after all the money and planning he had obviously put into the evening. Then his eyes brightened, and he laughed.

“You want to know something? I hate caviar too.”

The prince stood in a single motion, tossing his napkin onto the table next to the half-eaten tower of toro and caviar. Nina hurried to follow. Seeing their movement, Matsuhara swept out of the kitchen in evident dismay.

“We’re so sorry, but an emergency came up. We won’t be staying for the rest of the meal. Of course, you’ll still be paid in full,” Jeff announced to the startled chef.

“But Your Highness—all the food …”

“You and the staff should eat it. I bet you never get a chance to enjoy your own cooking.” Excitement blossomed on the chef’s face.

Jeff waited until they had slipped out the shadowed side door before turning to Nina. “Where to? I have to admit, I’m still a little hungry.”