“G’day,” the girl said in an Australian accent. “I’m Penelope Grant, your neighbor in 303.” She pointed her thumb to her right.
“Oh, hello! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Jaya Rao.”
“I know,” Penelope breathed, baby-blue eyes wide. “I heard that you’re a… princess?”
Daphne Elizabeth wasn’t joking; gossip and rumors really did seem to fuel St. Rosetta’s. Jaya had been here all of three hours. “It’s nice to meet you,” Jaya said with a modest smile.
Penelope walked in and sat at the edge of Jaya’s bed, still looking up at her in awe. “I’m Australian, so say the words ‘royal family’ and I’m rapt.”
Jaya laughed.
“Oh,” Penelope said, her smiled fading a bit as her eyes widened. “That is an exquisite pendant. I’ve never seen anything like those rubies.”
“Thank you,” Jaya said, caressing it very gently, in case any of the other rubies were loose. “My father—”
She was interrupted by a piercing squeal ringing out from somewhere down the hallway. She and Penelope looked at each other for a moment before rushing out to follow the screeching.
The door to room 315 stood wide open. A beautiful dark-haired girl dressed in a stunning emerald-green ball gown was twirling in the center of the room. Two others, both more pale-skinned than her, sat on her bed, watching her with slack-jawed admiration.
“I can’t believe Daddy did this!” the girl gushed in a smoky, Italian-accented voice. Tossing a phone to one of her friends, she said, “Take my picture so I can send it to Alaric. I want to make him drool a little.” She laughed throatily as she twirled.
Just as Jaya began to realize who she was looking at, Penelope whispered, “That’s Caterina LaValle, the only daughter of Italian American multimillionaire Matteo LaValle. There are rumors he’ll be running for the Senate soon. Anyway, people call her Queen Cat behind her back.… She kind of rules this school.”
Caterina LaValle, as in the Caterina-and-Alaric “institution” Daphne Elizabeth had just told her about.
Caterina looked up once her friend had taken her picture. “Oh, hi there,” she said, flashing a brilliant smile. She ran her fingers through her mahogany hair, and it cascaded back down in undulating waves around her shoulders.
“Hi, Caterina,” Penelope said, her voice breathy with deference. “This is Princess Jaya. From Mysuru, in India. She’s new.”
“Just Jaya,” Jaya corrected easily, smiling. “Jaya Rao. Pleased to meet you.”
“So, what do you think of my dress?” Caterina asked, pirouetting for them. “A custom Valentino. Daddy had it packed in with my things as a surprise. It’s for our Homegoing dance later this year.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jaya said, and meant it.
It was the kind of dress that dripped money, even if you couldn’t put your finger on why. As Jaya took Caterina LaValle in—her model cheekbones, hair like a silken waterfall down her back, flawless makeup that looked airbrushed on—she realized the repugnant Alaric had chosen someone exactly the opposite of her to have his summer dalliance with. Jaya suddenly felt horrible for Caterina, with her shiny teeth and expensive ball gown.
“Well, excuse me,” she said, turning to go, a combination of pity and guilt squirming in her stomach. Jaya might be poised for some major Emerson sabotage, but this girl was an innocent as far as she was concerned. She didn’t enjoy knowing about Alaric and Daphne Elizabeth when Caterina didn’t. “I should finish unpacking.”
“Wait.” Jaya felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Caterina.
“Penny, come here,” one of the girls on the bed called, waving a magazine. “Tell me if this hairstyle is too much.”
Penelope, obviously thrilled to be included, pushed past them and into the dorm room.
Caterina stood close to Jaya, still smiling, though her eyes glinted with something dark and sly. “Beautiful pendant,” she said, nodding appreciatively at Jaya’s throat. “You have good taste.”
“Thank you.” Jaya smiled. “The credit belongs to my father, though.”
“Mm.” Caterina cocked her head. “You know, I once visited Kerala with my father on a business trip. I spent a good amount of time at a resort with Sri Devi Nair, one of the daughters of the royal family in that region.”
“I know Sri Devi,” Jaya said carefully, unsure of why, exactly, they were having this conversation. A few girls walked past, waving and calling out to Caterina. She responded with a dignified bow of her head but kept her eyes on Jaya. “My family and her family are old friends.”
Caterina twirled a lock of hair around a slender finger, the tip of which was doused in pale purple nail polish. “She said that royal families still wield a lot of power in India and even beyond its borders. They’re well respected.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Caterina leaned against the doorframe, the fabric of her gown rustling with the motion. She could’ve been posing for Teen Vogue’s “Dorm Chic” issue. “I know you’re new here, Jaya, but I want you to know something. I always take care of my friends.” She waved an insouciant hand, and her perfume wafted to Jaya. It was something soft and clear, petals drenched in dew. “Ask Sri Devi if you like. I’ve helped her out of a jam or two, and she’s done the same for me. It can be really helpful, having friends who care.”
Jaya met her calculating eyes. She’d known people like Caterina LaValle before. They dealt in the currency of tit for tat; their world ran on you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours. When one was wealthy enough to buy nearly anything, favors and good graces became a much more valuable currency. But best of all for Jaya’s purposes, they usually had their fingers on the pulse of wherever they were, and the uncanny ability to feel secrets fluttering under the thin skin of normalcy. Caterina LaValle, Jaya was sure, could be a very, very helpful ally indeed. Or a formidable enemy. She smiled her most PR-friendly, royal smile. “Any friend of Sri Devi’s is a friend of mine.”
Caterina grinned and leaned forward to air-kiss her. Jaya returned the favor. “Excellent,” she said, pulling back to hold Jaya at arm’s length. “I know we’ll get on famously.”
* * *
“Caterina must’ve really liked you,” Penelope said, that same note of awe in her voice once they were back in Jaya’s room. “She isn’t usually so welcoming.”
“We share a mutual friend,” Jaya said vaguely, putting her shirts away in her dresser. Her heart sang. She was taking all of what had happened so far—Grey Emerson attending St. Rosetta’s and Leo, Rahul, and Daphne Elizabeth asking her to sit with them at breakfast on Thursday—as extremely good omens. It was as though the universe were conspiring to help her bring Grey Emerson to justice. Jaya thought of herself as a logical, practical person, but she couldn’t help seeing omens everywhere she looked. It was part of growing up in an Indian family. She thought again of the ruby falling and dismissed it. She couldn’t afford to get negative now.
“Knock, knock!” Isha stood at the door, grinning. “Oh. Hello,” she said to Penelope. “I’m Isha, Jaya’s sister.”
“Hello!” Penelope said, holding out her hand.
Isha clasped Penelope’s hand with both of hers. “Ah, that Australian accent! It’s one of the things I loved most about Sydney when we studied there.” She paused, the dimple in her chin giving her a mischievous-yet-cherubic look that had gotten her out of many a scrape. “Well, that and the boys. Australian boys are so adorable.”
Jaya tossed her a meaningful glance, eyebrow raised. “Are you ready?”
“Where are you going?” Penelope asked.
“To grab an early dinner at A-caf-demy,” Isha explained, naming the café all St. Rosetta’s students frequented, according to the brochure (the punny name Jaya didn’t care for—it was rather puerile). Then, seeing the way Penelope’s face fell a little, Isha began, “Do you—”
“So we’ll be seeing you soon,” Jaya cut in, turning to Penelope. She didn’t want Isha inviting Penelope a
long. There were matters she needed to discuss with her in private.
Penelope paused, looking a little like a droopy bloodhound. “Right. Cheerio. I’ll just catch up with you later, then.”
“Wonderful.” Jaya smiled and waved. She’d apologize later.
* * *
A-caf-demy Bistro was nestled at the base of the rolling hill on which St. Rosetta’s main campus sprawled.
Jaya glanced at Isha, stifling a yawn and shivering lightly as they walked along the path in the fading light of dusk. It got cold quickly in the mountains when the sun went down, something she remembered from a visit to the Alps. Her travel-foggy brain had still neglected to remember to bring a sweater on the walk, and Isha didn’t have one either. Jaya wouldn’t have minded a nap to help with the jet lag, but she’d need to stay awake until later tonight if she wanted to adjust as soon as possible. She had to be as alert as she could be when she met Grey Emerson for the first time.
Isha was dressed in a T-shirt Jaya was very familiar with, one she’d promised Jaya she’d throw away. Jaya opened her mouth to say something, but then she realized Isha was playing rather morosely with the hem. She watched, worry clouding her brow.
It wasn’t a big sacrifice for Jaya to leave behind her friends in Mysuru—she didn’t have that many to begin with. But Isha, being Amma’s daughter, was the quintessential social butterfly. Everyone was heartbroken that she was leaving—the teachers, the custodians, the principal, and the students—though obviously they understood why.
Jaya spent countless moments wishing the Emersons had found something horrible to say about her instead. She hadn’t had as far to fall as Isha did. Everyone—the media, friends, royal families in other parts of India—was always paying attention to the vivacious, beautiful, talented Isha. When she fell, she fell in full view of her audience, making the humiliation so much worse. Evidently, it was exactly what Grey Emerson had been counting on. God, the vitriol he must’ve imbibed from his family over the years to execute something this ruthless!
Jaya put her arm around Isha as they turned onto a small road. No cars were visible at all, a far cry from their bustling hometown. Aspen trees towered on either side, their leaves whispering in the slight breeze. Jaya took a breath, preparing herself to say what needed to be said. “Ish, I know things haven’t been easy for you these past few months. But we came here for a clean start. So this is just a gentle reminder, before our first day at this school…”
Isha sighed. “I know, Jaya. Keep my head down. Do what’s expected of me. Appa already gave me the lecture.”
Jaya tried not to let her temper rise. “It’s not a lecture, Isha. Our father was only doing what he thought best. The whole reason we’re here is because—”
“Because of who I am.” Isha tried to say it defiantly, like she didn’t care, but the catch in her voice gave her away. “I know you want to go home. You had to leave everything behind because of me. The Hegde family probably heard what happened, and propriety is so important to Kiran and his parents…” She stopped talking for a second before continuing. “I’m sorry, Jaya.”
Jaya stopped in her tracks and turned Isha toward her. “No.” She ducked a little to look right into Isha’s eyes as she spoke. Isha had gained a lot of height quickly over the past two years, but was still three inches shorter than Jaya’s 5'4". She tried to look away, but Jaya cupped her chin. “All this isn’t because of who you are. It’s because of who we are. We’re royals, and the rules are different for us. That’s why Gr—those Emersons”—Jaya spat out their name like it was a curse—“came after you. And why it’s so important that we keep a low profile now, that we do what’s expected of us. One of them goes to our school. We can’t afford to let our guard down again.” She took a breath. “As for the Hegde family, don’t worry, Isha. It’ll all work out, somehow or another.”
They began walking again, in silence this time. Isha was the first to speak, her voice suspiciously over-bright. “Quick question: What if I want to take robotics engineering? I was looking in the course catalog and it looks so fun.”
Jaya stared at her sister, who was simultaneously the most intelligent and most stupid person she knew. St. Rosetta’s International Academy had a whole catalog from which students could pick electives. Options ranged from French Cooking to A Study of the History of Russian Ballet to Principles of Global Finance. But, of course, Isha wanted to take robotics engineering. “That is not advisable, Ish.”
“Why not?” Her voice had a hard edge to it. “Plenty of Indian women are engineers.”
“Yes, but they’re not royals,” Jaya reiterated, trying to be patient in spite of her temper beginning to stir and crackle again. She tried to remember that she’d always found it easy to grasp that the rules were different for her than they were for others, simply by virtue of her blood. Isha, though, had fought against her birthright since she was a toddler, screaming “No!” and flinging off her gold bangles before any major event at the palace. Should Isha know better by now? Yes, she should. Did she? No, she absolutely didn’t. But perhaps Jaya could point that out gently, with the extreme diplomacy that had been ingrained in her since birth. She needed a light touch here.
“Isha, are you completely mad?” she blurted, her voice getting louder with each word she spoke. Sometimes a light touch was overrated. “The Emersons had pictures of you cavorting with those men—mechanics in a motorcycle shop!—covered in oil and dirt like some vagrant. Not to mention you were kissing one and hanging all over him and drinking alcohol! Not to mention, you’re wearing the very same T-shirt you were wearing that day! I thought you agreed to get rid of it. You’re lucky the angle of the shot didn’t allow for that quote to be readily seen. That would’ve been just one more thing for our people to latch on to. One among many.” Her cheeks burned at the memory. She’d stared at the pictures for so long, trying to deny that it was her little sister in them. “You looked like some—” Jaya stopped to take a breath. “It’s in our best interests to show you as a respectable member of the royal family.”
“They weren’t men, and I wasn’t cavorting!” she said indignantly, apparently having forgotten her apology of only seconds ago. “You make a mistake one time and—” She stopped, taking a breath. “You know I really liked Talin—and his crew. What’s wrong with kissing someone you like? How does showing my feelings make me a bad person? And this T-shirt? What’s so bad about it?” She looked down at it. It was a tight-fitting white baby-doll T-shirt with bold black font on the front. NO GODS, NO MASTERS. Jaya had googled it. The slogan was about anarchy. And extreme feminism. Both things a royal Indian woman should definitely not appear to support. Seeing Jaya’s thunderous expression, Isha hurried to continue. “They were boys my own age, and I was helping them with their business. Not everyone in India can afford school, Jaya. You know that. Some people have to earn a wage from childhood. I’m an excellent mechanic. I was helping them earn enough money so they didn’t have to close the shop! Talin knew I was a good mechanic; it’s why they agreed to let me help out in the first place. Can’t you see I was doing a good thing?”
Jaya put a hand to the bridge of her nose and pressed, trying to take control of her anger. The only problem was, “pressing” had turned into “shoving,” until she was afraid she might accidentally deviate her septum. “I know all that. You told us. But it doesn’t matter. You saw how it was, with the news turning it into a scandal and people questioning your character and our family’s honor! Amma was completely alienated from the boards she chairs. And have you forgotten how horrible you felt, how much people whispered and pointed and laughed until you couldn’t even leave the palace grounds? You’re a Rao. You just can’t behave like that, and you can’t have those kinds of interests when you’re born into a royal family. It’s a privilege—”
“You sound just like Appa,” Isha said angrily. “I just want to be me.”
Jaya wanted to shake her. Did she think Jaya enjoyed being whisked off to a strange place for her
last year of high school? Did she think Jaya liked having to always be the responsible one, the one who thought of what was best for the family, while Isha impulsively did whatever made her happy without a care for others?
Jaya took a deep breath and collected herself. “Let’s let this go for now,” she said, forcing herself to speak calmly.
Isha didn’t respond for a full minute and Jaya let her have her space. Isha had a short fuse; it burned fiery hot when she was angry, but cooled down fast too. Jaya, on the other hand, was a slow burn, content to let the embers of anger simmer for months before she took action.
Sure enough, Isha turned to her a minute later, smiling slightly. “You’re right; let’s let it go. I think I’m going to like it here. I’ve already made a ton of friends on my floor. And Raina, that girl who was talking to me in the common room? I think she has best friend potential.” She threaded her hand through Jaya’s and Jaya squeezed her fingers.
They walked in relative silence the rest of the way, inhaling the fresh, cool breeze rolling off the mountains in the distance as they huddled closer to ward off the encroaching chill. Lake Rosetta was off to their right somewhere, buried deep in the woods like a glassy jewel waiting to be discovered. This place was different in almost every way from their home. Still, with her sister by her side, Jaya didn’t feel so alone.
CHAPTER 5
Grey
Any young gentry walking by the West Wing at St. Rosetta’s International Academy would have witnessed a curious sight: a large silhouette in the window of the West Wing tower, padlocked against intrusion since nearly the inception of the school.
Of Curses and Kisses Page 5