American Royals

by Katharine McGee

  Later that evening, Sam yawned as she shimmied into an old T-shirt and silky blue sleep shorts. They had devoured two enormous thin-crust pizzas and watched a bad action movie—the opposite end of the spectrum from Midnight Crown, at least as far as cultural sophistication went. She wished Nina had stayed; there was a guest bedroom next to Sam’s suite that they normally used for sleepovers. But when she suggested it, Nina had gotten a weird look on her face and stammered that she should probably head to campus.

  It dawned on Sam that Nina might be going back for a boy. But if she was dating one of her classmates, why hadn’t she told Sam about it?

  Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by a hesitant knock.

  “Come in,” she called out, and was startled to see her sister, hovering uncertainly at the entrance to her suite.

  “I guess congratulations are in order,” Sam heard herself say. “The internet practically broke itself tonight, drooling over you and Teddy.”

  “What?”

  “You guys are trending nationwide. Hashtag #Beadore.” Sam gave a derisive snort. “Personally, if I was going to smash your names together, I would have gone with Theotrice, but no one asked me.”

  “Oh … all right.” Beatrice looked surprisingly young and vulnerable in a silk robe and white pajama set. Her hair, which earlier tonight had been twisted into an intricate updo, spilled in a great dark river over one shoulder. “I didn’t see you at the afterparty,” she went on.

  “Nina and Jeff left early with me, to get pizza.” Sam was surprised by the hurt that darted across Beatrice’s face. Was she feeling left out? “Did you want something?” she went on, with a little less bitterness.

  Beatrice sighed. “Sorry to bother you. I just … I keep wondering …”

  Sam’s resentment began to gutter and die out. She couldn’t remember the last time Beatrice had come to her room like this. They lived just down the hall from each other, but they might as well have been on separate continents.

  “What is it?” Sam gestured to her couch, an eighteenth-century love seat that she’d unearthed in palace storage and reupholstered in a bright persimmon-colored silk.

  Beatrice sank wordlessly onto the cushions. She glanced around the room with something like confusion, as if she were seeing it for the first time—the mismatched bamboo tables, the multicolored pillows. Sam had the strangest sensation that her sister was trying to figure out how to ask for her advice, or maybe her help.

  “Do you think Aunt Margaret is happy?”

  Whatever Sam had expected, it wasn’t that. She sat tentatively on the other side of the couch. “What do you mean?”

  Beatrice played idly with the fringe of a silk pillow. “Because she was in love with that airplane pilot when she was younger, and Grandma and Grandpa made her give him up.”

  “They didn’t make her do anything. Aunt Margaret could have married him if she wanted. But she would have given up her titles and income and status, and relinquished her place in the order of succession. If she’d really loved him, don’t you think she would have chosen him anyway?” Sam had always thought of the pilot as just another of Aunt Margaret’s youthful acts of rebellion. Which Sam could relate to.

  “Maybe she did love him, but felt that it was impossible for them to be together, because she was a princess,” Beatrice said softly.

  “I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “She wasn’t the heir to the throne. If they’d gotten married, she wouldn’t have even been exiled or anything. She could have found a way to make her life work.”

  Beatrice’s head shot up. “Exiled?”

  “A British king tried to marry a commoner and was forced to abdicate over it. He lived in Paris the rest of his life.”

  Her sister blanched, hugging the silk pillow tighter to her chest.

  Sam shot her a confused look. “Beatrice, what is this really about?”

  Before her sister could reply, steps thundered down the hallway, and another knock sounded at Sam’s door. It opened to reveal the king and queen.

  “Beatrice! Here you are,” their dad exclaimed, his features creased in a smile.

  Of course he hadn’t actually come to Sam’s room looking for Sam.

  The queen smiled at Samantha, but then her eyes, too, rounded on Beatrice. “You and Teddy looked like you were getting along tonight. Everyone certainly loved seeing you together.”

  Sam wondered if her parents had seen the internet’s wild surge of excitement at #Beadore.

  “He’s very nice,” Beatrice replied. Nice—the most meaningless of all adjectives. A word you reserved for distant acquaintances and events you had no desire to attend.

  Did Beatrice even like Teddy?

  “Of course, it was just a first date,” Beatrice added, as if to explain away her lack of gushing enthusiasm.

  Their parents exchanged a glance. “We’ve been thinking the same thing. Which is why we invited Teddy to Telluride for New Year’s,” the king announced proudly.

  “You invited Teddy to Telluride?” Beatrice’s voice scraped wildly over the words, with something that might have been panic.

  The queen tilted her head, puzzled. “We thought it would be a fantastic way to accelerate things. Help you get to know Teddy in a familiar, low-stress setting.”

  From the way Beatrice’s nostrils flared in panic, it seemed like this was hardly low-stress. “Right,” she hedged. “It’s just … Telluride has always been our private place, where we get to be together as a family, and now you’ve invited someone who’s practically a stranger.”

  “He’s not a stranger. We’ve known the Eatons for generations,” the king countered.

  This was too much. Sam wasn’t sure why Beatrice didn’t want Teddy there, but whatever her reasons, they were in agreement for once. Sam had no desire to spend her New Year’s vacation watching Teddy on an extended date with her sister.

  “This is moving a little fast,” she interjected. “From first date to a weekend away—what will people think? Maybe Beatrice should wait until we’re back, and then if she wants to ask Teddy out a second time, she can do it then.”

  Beatrice shot Sam a grateful look, but the king waved away her protest. “Don’t worry about the message it sends. Teddy will be staying in the guest cottage, not the main house. The way Daphne used to.”

  Daphne Deighton was the only significant other who’d ever gotten an invite to Telluride. It wasn’t lost on Samantha that her father had just equated Jeff’s three-year former relationship to the guy Beatrice had gone out with once.

  “Besides,” the queen persisted, “we’re never there as a family, just us. Jeff is inviting Ethan this year, and Sam, aren’t you bringing Nina?”

  “Yeah,” Sam admitted.

  Beatrice nodded, having obviously realized that she wasn’t going to win this one. “No, you’re right. Bringing Teddy to Telluride is a good idea. Thank you for thinking of it.” She stood up, her movements stiff and jerky, almost robotic.

  “Beatrice,” Sam ventured. Didn’t her sister want to finish talking about … well, whatever it was they were talking about?

  Beatrice just shook her head, her eyes hollow-looking. “Good night, Sam.” She followed their parents out of the room, her white robe billowing in her wake. The door shut behind her with a resounding thud.

  NINA

  The Washingtons had gathered at the top of Bald Mountain, the breathtaking backdrop of the Rockies falling away behind them. Sunlight glittered over the pristine white snow. Watching them tease and torment one another, you might almost have thought they were any other family, posing for a quick picture before tearing down the slopes.

  Except this wasn’t a normal vacation photo, but an all-press photo call.

  The palace’s PR office had long ago struck a bargain with the various media outlets: the royal family would conduct an interview at the start of their annual trip to Telluride, in exchange for complete privacy thereafter. It was much like the deal that had protected Beatrice while she was in co
llege, where she did an in-depth interview once a year, and otherwise was able to move around Cambridge relatively unbothered.

  Nina still couldn’t quite believe that she’d come on this trip after all. Just a few weeks ago she’d been certain that she would stay in the capital: go to the party that Rachel was planning, have a normal New Year’s Eve for once. But that was before she went out with Jeff, and everything changed.

  It hadn’t been easy keeping this a secret. At Christmas with her family, Nina had to constantly check herself to keep from mentioning the prince. She and Jeff were texting nonstop; Nina had even changed his name to Alex in her phone, just in case anyone happened to glance at her screen while she was typing. Who would ever expect the vaguely-labeled Alex was actually the prince?

  They’d seen each other alone just a couple of times since that first date, always somewhere public where Jeff went incognito. Nina didn’t dare bring him to campus, where he would definitely get recognized, and she was too scared to hang out at the palace, in case Samantha caught them together.

  They kept seeking excuses to attend the same events, if only for more chances to be near each other. Jefferson had even come to the theater for once, simply because Nina had told him she would be there with Sam.

  Hiding it from Samantha was the worst part. So many times, Nina had felt herself on the verge of telling her best friend everything, but some innate cautiousness, or perhaps fear, restrained her. It wasn’t that Nina worried about Sam’s reaction. If anything, Sam would get too excited at the news, and end up spilling the secret to the rest of the world.

  And Nina couldn’t help thinking that if she and Jeff weren’t going to last, she would rather Sam never find out at all. As weird as things would be for the three of them once Sam knew that Nina and Jeff were secretly together, it would be even weirder if they then broke up—and Sam had to deal with her brother and her best friend as exes.

  Being in Telluride as Sam’s guest rather than Jeff’s was equal parts bliss and torture. Sometimes, when no one was looking, he would sneak up behind her and pull her into his arms, or spin her around to drop a lingering kiss on her lips. Just last night at dinner, the prince had taken the seat next to Nina. She’d been so distracted by the feel of his leg brushing against hers that she’d almost forgotten to eat.

  He was standing now with the rest of his family, their skis and snowboards carefully posed before them, their boots crunching on the snow. Almost everyone was here: the king and queen and the twins. The king’s younger brother, Richard, Duke of Manchester, and his wife, Evelyn, along with their two small children, Annabel and Percy, who were currently drawing stick figures in the snow with the points of their ski poles. The king’s older sister, Samantha’s wild and controversial aunt Margaret, Duchess of Louisiana, and her husband, Nate. The Hollywood Hottie, the press liked to call him, because he was a soap-opera actor, and ten years younger than Margaret—luckily for her, he also happened to be the grandson of a viscount, otherwise their marriage wouldn’t have been approved. The Queen Mother had tried on numerous occasions to make Nate give up his work; she didn’t want members of the royal family engaged in something so openly commercial, so trashy. But Nate cheerfully ignored her complaints. Nina had always liked him for that.

  The only member of the Washington family noticeably absent was Princess Beatrice, who would be joining them tomorrow afternoon.

  Nina had observed plenty of photo calls through the years. She was used to being shuffled to one side and asked to wait until the interview was over. Today she had stationed herself beneath the overhang of a chairlift, a few yards past the raucous bubble of photographers and reporters. Jeff’s friend Ethan Beckett stood next to her, alongside Teddy Eaton.

  It couldn’t be easy on Sam, having Teddy here in Telluride. Nina worried that it would only get worse once Beatrice arrived at the house tomorrow, and Sam was forced to observe their flirting at close range.

  “All right, everyone!” The king’s chamberlain, Lord Robert Standish, shouted over the noise of the photographers. He looked a bit ridiculous in his typical navy suit, his only concession to the cold weather a patriotic striped scarf, but Robert had always been a stickler for protocol. No matter the conditions.

  “We’ll take a few questions at this time,” he offered, with all the self-importance of someone who delivers news about people more powerful than himself.

  “Who’s the surprise entertainment at this year’s New Year’s party?” one of the press corps called out. The clacking of cameras was like the sound of a million insects.

  “If we announced that, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” The queen gave a good-natured smile.

  The Washingtons’ private New Year’s Eve party, at local members-only club Smuggler’s, was the event of the year. Nina had heard of noble families who rented houses in Telluride for the week, just hoping that they would run into the king on the slopes and snag a last-minute invite. Someone world-famous always ended up giving a private performance—a pop star or comedian, or once, a boy band Beatrice had been a little obsessed with.

  “I’d say this beats being in Urquhart’s lecture right now,” Ethan drawled, sliding closer on his snowboard.

  Nina realized, startled, that the comment had been directed at her. She kept forgetting that Ethan was also a freshman at King’s College this year. “Wait—you’re in the World History class?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I assumed you were, too. You don’t seem like the type to leave mandatory credits until senior year.”

  Nina nodded absently, wondering why she hadn’t seen Ethan around campus more. Then again, King’s College was a big school.

  She and Ethan had known each other for years. It was inevitable that their paths kept crossing, given how close they both were to the twins. But Nina would never have ventured to claim that they were friends. No matter how often he laughed or lounged around with the others, she couldn’t shake the sense that Ethan was holding something back, out of self-preservation or wariness.

  “What do you think of all this?” Ethan asked, edging his board a little closer.

  Nina wondered why Ethan was bothering with her now, when he’d never paid her much attention before.

  “It’s just a press call. We’ve both seen our fair share of them,” she said easily.

  Still, Nina couldn’t help glancing back over at the Washingtons, so artfully arranged against that dramatic background. The lights of the cameras flashed over their perfect white smiles and dark hair, their flawless golden-brown tans. When they stood all together like that, there was something sleek and powerful about them, something that left Nina with an unbidden foreboding.

  “Jeff!” shouted one of the reporters. “We keep hearing rumors that you’re seeing someone. Who is it?”

  Nina’s heart skipped a beat.

  The Daily News correspondent chimed in, thrusting her microphone forward. “Is it Daphne Deighton? All of America keeps hoping you and Daphne will get back together.”

  “You know I don’t comment on my love life,” Jeff said tightly.

  “So you are seeing someone!” one of the reporters cried out, elated.

  “Who is she?”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Is it Daphne?”

  Nina began stomping the heel of her boot angrily into the snow, the way that ten-year-old Annabel had been doing not so long ago.

  “What the prince means is no comment.” Robert stepped smoothly between Jeff and the reporter. “And that will be all for today. Let’s give Their Majesties a chance to enjoy the snow, shall we?”

  There was a final burst of flashbulbs, and then the Washingtons quickly dispersed: Aunt Margaret whooshing down the slope in pursuit of her Hollywood Hottie, Richard and Evelyn leading their children off to a private instructor. The press corps began the laborious process of packing up their cameras and gear, to load it into the snowmobiles that would cart them back down the mountain.

  Jeff strapped his foot into his binding
and snowboarded the few yards toward them. “Sorry about that.”

  “I know,” Nina replied quietly, just as Ethan said, “No problem.”

  Oh, right. Jeff had been talking to Ethan, apologizing that he’d been forced to wait through yet another press call. Nina had thought it was for her, that Jeff was sorry the paparazzi had somehow found out about them.

  Ethan cast her a sharp glance, as if wondering what she meant. Because of course, Nina wasn’t supposed to be here for Jeff. She was here for Samantha, her best friend.

  Sam chose that moment to join them, cutting a razor-sharp turn so that her arrival flung a spray of ice crystals into their faces.

  “Hey!” Nina cried out, wiping the snow from her shoulders. Sam laughed. It was her dad’s laugh, that great Washington roar of laughter that sparked an answering smile in everyone.

  “Sorry, but you all looked drowsy,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Consider this your official wake-up.”

  “I knew I would regret brewing you that second mug of coffee,” Jeff countered, though he was smiling.

  “I blame the frosted bear claw as much as the coffee.” Nina directed the comment at Sam, though she was watching Jeff’s mouth for a smile.

  Sam ignored them, reaching up to pull her goggles down over her eyes. “Where are you guys headed? I’m thinking if we want to do Prospect, we should go now, before it gets choppy and skied-over.”

  “That sounds perfect,” said Teddy, who’d been quiet up to this point.

  Nina hoped she was the only one who saw Sam flinch at his words. “You go ahead. I just remembered something.” The princess pulled her phone from her pocket as if to send a text, though Nina saw she was really just scrolling through her social media feeds.

  Jeff’s eyes lit on Nina’s, then darted rapidly away. “Last one to the lift is in charge of the hot-tub jets!” he called out, and dropped down into the slope, Ethan and Teddy on his heels.