Daphne Deighton chose that moment to walk into the bathroom. She looked resplendent in a delicate champagne-colored gown.
“Nina.” Her gaze prickled on Nina’s in the mirror. “You look amazing. It’s too bad about the whole miscommunication at Halo, of course, but that gown is divine.”
She was smiling as always, yet Nina had the sense of something hard and unyielding beneath the superficial warmth of her voice.
“Thanks,” she said cautiously. Then the full import of Daphne’s words hit her, and she paused. “How did you know about the mix-up at Halo?”
Daphne’s self-control flickered, so quickly that Nina wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been watching for it. “Damien told me, of course. He felt terrible about the whole thing. I’m so glad it worked out!”
Nina could have nodded and left it there, but a suspicion had ignited in her mind, and she needed to know.
“Daphne,” she said carefully, “are you the one who canceled my gown order?”
She expected Daphne to flat-out deny it. But to her surprise, the other girl spun on one heel and marched up and down the row of stalls, pushing on each door to make sure that they were empty.
Nina watched, speechless, as she returned to the entrance of the ladies’ room and bolted the main door.
When Daphne turned, all trace of a smile had been wiped from her perfect features—as if a mask had dropped, and now Nina was finally seeing her for real.
“It was me,” Daphne said simply. “It was all me, everything that’s happened to you since you first got involved with Jefferson. I gave the paparazzi your dorm address and helped them find incriminating photos of you. I planted the story in the tabloids. I called the boutique, pretending to be you, and canceled your gown order.”
Nina blinked. She felt oddly caught off guard by the bluntness of Daphne’s confession. “You did all that, just to try to get Jeff back?”
“‘All that’?” Daphne smiled, a sharp glittering smile that matched the light in her bottle-green eyes. “Nina, I’m just getting started.”
Nina stumbled backward. “You’re insane,” she said hotly. What had she been thinking, letting Daphne lock them in a bathroom together?
“I really do think you’re a nice girl, so I’m going to give you some free advice. You need to end things now, before you end up hurt. You will never make it in the Washington family, not with your kind of background.”
“My kind of background?” Nina spluttered. “For your information, the king and queen have always liked me.”
“As Samantha’s best friend, as the daughter of one of their employees, sure. As the girlfriend of their only son? I don’t think so.”
“My mom is a Cabinet minister, not a chambermaid,” Nina said quietly. “And I’m sorry, what about your background makes you better qualified, the fact that your dad is a lord?”
“A baronet,” Daphne corrected crisply, “and yes. Unlike you, I have been training for this job my entire life. Because it is a job.”
“I don’t—”
“Do you know who to call Your Serene Highness and Your Imperial Highness as opposed to Your Royal Highness? Can you identify the heir to the throne in every country—the Prince of Wales and the Princess of Asturias and the French dauphin? Do you know the lineage of each of the thirteen sovereign duchies? How do you properly address a federal judge or a member of Congress?” Daphne paused from her monologue to take a breath. “You have no idea what it takes to be the prince’s girlfriend.”
Nina couldn’t believe the bizarre list of job requirements Daphne had just rattled off. “Whatever your relationship with Jeff was like, ours is different. He doesn’t care about those things.”
“Your relationship with Jefferson is never just you. It’s a public position. You are living in a goldfish bowl—constantly on display, and on trial.”
Nina shook her head, though Daphne’s words were eerily similar to what she said to Jeff not that long ago. Daphne saw that sliver of hesitation and pounced on it.
“The king and queen will never give Jefferson permission to marry you,” she went on. “Never.”
“Who said anything about marriage? We’re eighteen!”
“Ah. I see.” Daphne had the feline, self-satisfied look of someone who was very protective of her territory. “You’re just messing around with him until he finds someone serious. Good. In that case, you won’t be disappointed when it ends. Because there is no way you and the prince can ever have a future together, Nina. You’re skating on melting ice. He might be into you now, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“A matter of time before what?”
Daphne lifted one shoulder in a sinuous shrug. “Before he realizes that you aren’t long-term material.”
Nina hadn’t even thought of marriage—but now she couldn’t help wondering if Daphne might be right. If she couldn’t see herself ever getting serious with Jeff, what was the point of letting herself fall for him, and eventually being hurt?
Stop it, she admonished herself. This was exactly what Daphne wanted: to make her doubt their relationship—doubt Jeff.
Daphne took a step forward, probably expecting her to retreat, but Nina held her ground. Despite their ball gowns, their jewels, their elaborate hairstyles, they seemed to Nina like a pair of warriors tensely circling each other on the field of battle.
“You know what?” Nina declared. “I feel sorry for you. If what you say is true, if you really devoted your entire life to being some perfect princess figure—that’s pathetic.”
There was a dangerous gleam to Daphne’s eyes. “Oh, no. You do not get to feel sorry for me.”
“I do,” Nina repeated. “Because unlike you, I care about Jeff, the person. Not the fact that he’s a prince.”
Daphne laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “They’re one and the same thing, Nina. You can’t want Jeff like an ordinary man and ignore his positions and titles. If you don’t know that, then you’re a fool.”
“Better to love him for real than to love him because of his positions and titles!”
“Oh my, you love him.” The other girl smirked. “That really is too bad for you. Because Jefferson is going to come to his senses and get rid of you soon enough. Until then, I’ll be right here, making your life a living hell.”
Nina knew, with a chilling certainty, that Daphne meant every word.
“I’m going to tell everyone the truth about you. That you’re a lying, manipulative—”
“I’d love to see you try.” Daphne cast her a withering glance. “Who do you think they’ll believe? I’m America’s Sweetheart, and you’re the gold-digging fame whore he rebounded to, before he eventually comes back to me.”
Nina opened her mouth to retaliate, but no words came out, because she knew deep down that it was true. America would take Daphne’s side over hers.
“Someday you’ll thank me for this,” Daphne said quietly. “You don’t have the stomach for this kind of life. I’m doing you a favor in the long run.”
With that, she turned the bolt on the door and stepped out into the hallway.
Nina blinked, dazed. There was a love seat in the corner; she collapsed onto it in a sloppy heap of beads.
She sat there for a while, her chin tucked into her hands, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Light fell from the crystal chandelier overhead, which suddenly looked to Nina like a torrent of tears, frozen mid-fall by an evil snow queen.
How stupidly naïve she’d been, thinking she could just stroll into this party in a beautiful dress and everything would be okay. She didn’t know how to navigate this court, with its layered promises and barbed favors. This court rewarded people like Daphne—cold, brutal people who did whatever the hell they wanted and never looked back. Nina couldn’t compete with those people. She didn’t want to.
This wasn’t her world, and it never would be.
Nina ran her hands up and down her bare arms against the cold. The wings of the palace sprawled to ei
ther side of her, flooded with moonlight. She was out on the balcony, the one with the birds’ nest, where she and Jeff had watched the fireworks all those weeks ago.
This time, Nina wasn’t surprised when his footsteps sounded behind her.
“There you are.” Jeff’s voice was warm, but then he seemed to take in her pallor, the bleak look on her face, and he hurried to close the distance between them.
“We need to talk,” Nina said heavily.
Jeff slid out of his jacket as if to tuck it over her shoulders, but she drew back. He let his arms fall to his sides, chastened.
“Nina, are you okay? What happened?”
Your ex-girlfriend happened. She tightened her grip on the wrought-iron railings.
“I was so excited about tonight,” she began. “Getting to be here with you, at an event that’s important to your family. I thought we were ready for this.”
“We are ready for this, Nina. I hope you know how much it means to me that you’re here.”
She shook her head. “You might be ready for this, but I’m not. All the lies and pretending, that ballroom full of two-faced people—I can’t do it.”
“I told you, forget the internet commenters,” Jeff insisted. “My family loves you; everyone who matters loves you.”
“Are you sure your family approves of me?” Nina forged ahead before he could interrupt. “I’m not talking about Sam; I’m talking about your parents. Do you honestly think they would give us permission to get married?”
She half expected Jeff to defend her, but instead he flinched. “Isn’t it a little soon to be talking about marriage?”
“It would be, if we were a normal couple and I didn’t have to worry about whether or not I’m suitable!” Nina hated herself for parroting Daphne. But like all good insults, Daphne’s words had contained a kernel of truth. That was why they cut so deep.
“I’m not trying to freak you out, or be unreasonable,” she added helplessly. “But I also have no desire to enter a relationship that’s doomed from the start. I don’t want to date someone whose parents are ashamed of me.”
Jeff reached for her hand, and this time Nina let him take it. “Where is this coming from?”
She let out a breath. “Daphne cornered me in the ladies’ room and told me to break up with you. She’s been out to get me from the beginning. She sabotaged my gown—”
“What happened with your gown?” Jeff cut in, confused.
“—and she’s the one who planted those photos of us in the tabloids, the ones taken outside my dorm! She sent the paparazzi there that night!”
“Daphne had no idea about us. No one did, remember?”
“Are you sure you didn’t tell her at New Year’s?” Nina couldn’t keep the jealousy from her voice. “I saw you two talking out on the patio at Smuggler’s. You looked pretty close.”
“What do you want me to say? Yes, Daphne hit on me at New Year’s, but I turned her down, told her that I was with someone else now.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Come on, Nina. I thought you would at least be gracious in victory.”
“Being gracious,” Nina said darkly. “Sounds like yet another of the many things that Daphne can do, and I can’t.”
The darkness felt tense and heavy, and somehow more ominous than before. Nina struggled to breathe. Then something Jeff had said clicked into place.
“You did tell Daphne. Even if you didn’t tell her my name,” she insisted. “After you told her you were seeing someone, she clearly figured out that it was me. Then she sent the press to my dorm!”
“Do you realize how paranoid you sound?” Jeff asked, incredulous. “Daphne hates the press. She would never do that. I know she can come on strong, especially to someone like you, but she wouldn’t hurt me like that.”
It wasn’t lost on Nina that he’d said hurt me. Not us.
“To ‘someone like me’?” she repeated, stunned. “You mean, a commoner?”
“Of course not. I just meant, someone who hasn’t known Daphne for years.”
“You met me when we were six,” she reminded him. She didn’t have to add that it was much longer than he’d known Daphne.
Jeff glanced down at the tip of Nina’s shoe, peeking out from beneath her gown. “Daphne and I ended on good terms. We’re still friends. Whatever she said to you, I’m sure it was well intentioned.”
Was he seriously taking her side? “I can’t believe you ever dated her. She’s awful.”
“Why are you being like this? I’m with you now. What does it matter what happened in the past?”
“Because I don’t think it’s actually in the past!” Nina burst out. “Daphne clearly isn’t done with you—and from the way you’re defending her, maybe you aren’t done with her, either!”
She tore her hand away from Jeff’s grip. “She’s a manipulator, Jeff. She’s been lying to you from the beginning.”
“Nina—”
“It’s absurd that I’m supposedly the gold-digger, when it’s really Daphne. I like you in spite of your position, and Daphne likes you because of it!”
The prince’s jaw tightened. “Daphne and I dated for almost three years,” he said. Nina recoiled a little at the reminder. “I think I would have known if she was lying to me that whole time.”
“No. You’re just too blinded by her looks to see it,” Nina insisted. “She’s been playing you, Jeff. Using you. She should win an Oscar for this, because it’s the performance of a lifetime—making you think she cared about you, when all she cares about is being a princess!”
“So now you’re accusing her of being a sociopath,” he said quietly.
“Exactly! She faked your entire relationship, and if you can’t see it, you’re even more foolish and shallow than I used to think you were!”
Nina stared determinedly out at the city, furious with herself for crying, but it was too late.
If only she had proof of what had happened in the bathroom. But it was her word against Daphne’s. And if Jeff was going to choose Daphne’s side over hers … well, she had her answer right there.
Jeff let out a breath. “I don’t want to make you any promises that I can’t keep, about marriage or where this is going. I’m not trying to mislead you in any way. All I know is that I want to give us a fair shot.”
“We did give us a fair shot, and it didn’t work,” Nina said quietly. “I can’t handle all of this. The reporters, the constant scrutiny, the fact that your ex-girlfriend is determined to get rid of me—even the fact that your lawyer emailed me a relationship contract—it’s too much.”
Jeff didn’t answer right away. He seemed stunned by her words.
“Nina …,” he said at last. “If it was just us, if I was a normal guy, would things be different?”
Of course they would, Nina wanted to say, except that the very notion was nonsense. The thought of him as a so-called normal guy, as one of the disheveled college kids who worked for his beer and pizza money, was ridiculous. Jeff could only ever be the Prince of America.
Just as Nina could only ever be a commoner.
“It won’t ever be just us, Jeff.”
He nodded. “I really am sorry.”
She turned a tear-streaked face to him. “Me too.”
They stood there, both of them leaning toward each other, but not touching.
“I guess this is it, then,” Jeff said at last. “See you around.”
He dropped a final kiss on her brow, more like a friend saying goodbye than a boyfriend. Then he walked back into the palace, the doors shutting behind him with a definitive click.
Nina leaned her elbows onto the railing. Her stomach had seized in an undeniable cramp, as if all the pain and sadness in her body were wringing her like a towel, twisting tears from her eyes.
She needed to get out of the palace, and this time, she wasn’t coming back.
SAMANTHA
I am not jealous, Samantha reminded herself, as she drifted around her sister’s party like a stray sno
wflake. It felt petty to be jealous at a time like this. Beatrice’s engagement was a matter of state, a dynastic decision, and their father was dying—and compared to that, it felt selfish for Samantha to be yearning for Teddy. There was so much more at stake here than her own teenage heartbreak.
Her rational brain knew and accepted all of this, but that didn’t make it any less painful.
At least Nina and Jeff seemed happy. They’d been attached to each other all evening, smiling goofy lovesick grins. Sam didn’t see them on the dance floor anymore, though. Probably they had slipped off to be alone.
The person she did keep seeing, no matter how consciously she tried not to, was Teddy.
Ever since their conversation in the Crown Jewels vault, she and Teddy had done an admirable job of avoiding each other. It seemed like he was traveling back and forth to Boston anyway. When she did see him, Sam murmured a polite greeting and quickly moved on.
But tonight Teddy seemed to be everywhere. Sam realized that some stupid part of her was tracking his movements, with a low hum of alertness that seemed to operate under the surface of her consciousness.
He looked gorgeous in his tuxedo, his blond hair slightly longer than it used to be—gorgeous, and utterly off-limits to her. Sam gripped the stem of the glass so tight that it left an indentation mark on her fingers. She had almost, almost come to terms with the fact that she was giving him up. That decision had been much easier when he wasn’t right in front of her.
There were plenty of other young men at this party, if she wanted to distract herself. Sam forced herself to whirl across the dance floor with them, one after the other: Alastair von Epstein, Darius Boyle, and the infamous Lord Michael Alden, who’d defied his family’s wishes and became a professional swimmer. He was even cuter in person, with that perfect white smile that was all over cereal boxes and toothpaste commercials.
Samantha was certainly dressed for flirtation. Her dramatic red trumpet gown matched her vivid lipstick, and her hair tumbled in curls down one shoulder, ruby studs glinting in her ears. It all had a glamorous, old-Hollywood feel.
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