Her Royal Highness

by Rachel Hawkins

  “Yeah,” I say, shifting my weight to my other foot. “From Texas.”

  It occurs to me that that might not mean anything to them, and when Sakshi says, “Perry and I are both from Northampton,” I realize that where she’s from doesn’t mean anything to me, either. This is a weird bit of culture shock I hadn’t really anticipated.

  But I nod at the two of them and smile, figuring that fake it till you make it is about to be my new motto around here.

  “Well, come along,” Sakshi says, threading an arm through mine and tugging me back toward the stairs. “I assume you’re on your way to the Girls’ Tea.”

  I nod, letting myself be dragged along in her wake with Perry.

  “It used to just be the First Years’ Tea,” he says as we make our way down the stairs. I spot a few portraits of stern-looking men in tartan, as well as some framed black-and-white photographs of uniformed boys standing in front of the school.

  “But they’re doing a special one just for the girls,” he continues, and Sakshi sighs, waving her free hand.

  “Yes, yes, Perry, I’m sure Millie here could put together what I meant by a ‘Girls’ Tea,’ for heaven’s sake. She’s American, not stupid.”

  “Thanks? I think?” I say as we come to the bottom of the stairs.

  There are more girls milling around now, some who are clearly my age, but a lot who seem younger. Sakshi looks at them, the corners of her mouth turning down.

  “Poor loves,” she says. “There aren’t many of us intrepid ladies this year, and I feel it’s going to be harder on the younger ones. I’ve even got one as my roommate, you know. Some little horsey girl.”

  “Horsey girl?” I ask, and Sakshi waves a hand.

  “There’s always a handful. Those girls entirely too invested in horses. Anyway, there aren’t enough of us ladies to pair us all up with our own age group, so some of us have to room with the little ones, yours truly included.”

  She takes a deep breath, folding her hands in front of her. “Like I said, poor dears. I only have to survive for a year. They’re here for ages.”

  Okay, “survive” is not how I want to think of my time here in my brand-new, exciting life.

  “It’s not going to be that bad,” I say, shrugging. “I mean, we all chose to be here, right?”

  “Saks did,” Perry said. “I have never chosen to be at Gregors- toun, and I want that noted for the record. And possibly engraved on my headstone.”

  Rolling her eyes, Saks leans down and says to me, “Perry has been moaning about this place since he was twelve, so I decided I’d come and see what all the fuss was about.” Then she flips her long dark hair over one shoulder. “Besides, if it’s good enough for a princess, it’s certainly good enough for me.”

  She leans in closer, lowering her voice. “Princess Flora is here,” she says in a stage whisper. “As in the Princess Flora.”

  “Right, not the other, off-brand one,” I joke. “Do they give her some kind of special tower room or something?”

  Sakshi wrinkles her nose. “You haven’t seen her? She’s supposed to be rooming on your floor.”

  I shake my head. “I have seen no princesses,” I say, and then . . .

  No.

  My mouth dry, I ask, “Do either of you have a phone? So you can show me her picture?”

  Perry shakes his head, but Saks looks around before reaching into the waistband of her skirt and pulling out a rose-gold iPhone.

  “Saks, it’s supposed to stay in your room—you’re going to get in trouble,” Perry says, but Sakshi just holds up one finger, clicking on her phone with the other.

  “Here she is,” she says. “Shopping in New Town, wearing a truly fabulous coat.”

  Before she even turns the phone to me, I know, but it’s still a shock to the system to see the picture and clearly recognize Princess Flora.

  My roommate.

  When Princess Flora joins Gregorstoun this autumn, she’ll be the first female royal to do so in the school’s hundred-year history. However, Flora won’t be alone in making her mark as part of Gregorstoun’s first female class! Let’s have a look at some of the other aristocratic ladies who are heading to the Highlands this year.

  Lady Elisabeth Graham: Youngest daughter of the Earl of Dumfries, Lady Elisabeth recently celebrated her twelfth birthday by renting out the entire Edinburgh Zoo for the weekend. Like her mother, the Countess of Dumfries, Lady Elisabeth is quite the equestrian, and we hear she’s greatly looking forward to honing her skills at Gregorstoun.

  The Honourable Caroline McPherson: Miss McPherson is the daughter of the Viscount Dunrobbin, and like Princess Flora, she will be completing her final year of secondary school at Gregorstoun. Another thing Miss McPherson has in common with Princess Flora: She was briefly linked romantically to Prince Sebastian’s best friend, Miles Montgomery.

  Lady Sakshi Worthington: As the daughter of the Duke of Alcott, Lady Sakshi is second only to the princess herself in terms of rank. Her mother is noted philanthropist and socialite Ishani Virk, whose wedding to the duke was one of the grandest in recent memory. We’re told Lady Sakshi has inherited her mother’s flair for entertaining, as well as her interest in charity work.

  (“Ladies of Gregorstoun,” from Prattle)

  CHAPTER 9

  “You seriously didn’t know you were rooming with the princess?” Sakshi asks as we sit on an uncomfortable sofa in what’s called “the east drawing room.” There’s a buffet table against the back wall that has a bunch of china teacups and saucers, plus tiers of cakes and cookies, but I’m definitely not hungry right now. I did take the cucumber sandwich Saks offered me from her plate, but I’m mostly just crumbling it into a napkin.

  “I seriously didn’t,” I tell Sakshi now in a low voice. “But honestly, that seems like the kind of thing someone should’ve told me? I mean, I got about five thousand emails about what kind of socks to buy, but I didn’t get a ‘hi, you’re living with royalty’ heads-up?”

  I don’t add that I’m here on scholarship, and for all I know, insulting the royal family is automatic grounds for getting all that sweet, sweet school cash yanked back.

  God, why did I choose this one time in my entire life to be snotty to someone?

  Perry is perched on a rickety-looking chair he dragged over from the side of the room, and he leans closer, his bony elbows on his knees. “It would make sense for them to do it on purpose,” he says. “To pair her up with someone who’s not technically a subject.” He shrugs his narrow shoulders. “It’s a good idea, really. Makes things less awkward.”

  I remember calling the princess Veruca Salt and rolling my eyes at her.

  “I . . . may have already made it a little awkward,” I confess. “Although she wasn’t exactly the picture of princessy refinement, so it’s not completely my fault. I think.”

  Sakshi’s and Perry’s eyes go wide, and Sakshi grabs my hand. “Okay, tell me everything immediately.”

  We sit there on the sofa while I pick at my sandwich some more, visions of being stripped of my fancy new uniform on the first day circling my brain, and fill them in on my first meeting with Her Royal Pain. When I get to the Veruca Salt bit, Perry actually hoots.

  “Oh my lord, I would’ve given anything to see her face when you said that.”

  “It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?” I ask, crumpling up my crumb-filled napkin. “I mean, they’re not going to—”

  “Throw you in a dungeon?” Sakshi asks, and I shoot her a look.

  “No, I’m not that much of an ignorant American. I was thinking more along the lines of getting kicked out or something. I’m here on scholarship, so what if the punishment for insulting a royal classmate is expulsion or . . . I don’t know, demerits or something?”

  Perry shakes his head before snatching a tea cake from Sakshi’s plate. “No worries on that front,” h
e says before demolishing the cake in one bite. “The whole point of sending the royal kids here is so they’re forced to live like normal students. No special privileges, no kid gloves. If they wouldn’t expel you for calling me Veruca Salt, they can’t do it because you said it to her. That’s the deal.”

  Speak of the devil—at that moment, Flora comes in the room, flanked by two other girls, both of whom have hair just as shiny as hers, but aren’t nearly as pretty. They’re both in uniforms, too, but Flora’s still decked out in that fancy sweater and designer jeans.

  Her eyes briefly land on me before flicking away again, and I’m not sure if that’s because she’s pissed or because I haven’t really registered to her yet.

  She walks over to another sofa, this one smaller than the one Sakshi and I are sitting on, and already occupied by three younger girls.

  Flora doesn’t even say anything to them. She just approaches, shoots them a look, and suddenly all three are scattering, practically tripping over themselves to give Her Highness her desired seat.

  I snort as Flora situates herself in the best light, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

  “I’m not the only person to want to throw ‘Veruca Salt’ in her general direction, am I?” I ask, and that makes both Perry and Sakshi laugh.

  “Oh, darling, no,” Perry replies. “I’d bet half the country wants to say that to her. In fact, they probably want to say something much, much worse.”

  Sakshi looks at me, her dark eyes narrowed slightly. “You . . . really don’t know anything about her, do you?” she asks, and I shrug.

  “Maybe I should’ve read up more. I knew both her brothers went here, but that’s it.”

  Sighing, Perry glances up at the ceiling. “Not knowing anything about this crowd,” he says, wistful. “What a lovely life that would be.”

  “Easy, drama queen,” Sakshi counters. “It’s not like your family has exactly suffered from their connection to those weirdos.”

  Perry grins then, and I’m surprised how much cuter that makes him look. He has a good smile, overbite and all.

  “It’s true, it’s true, we have all sorts of lovely lands and houses because of the Bairds and the Stuarts before them. But still, bit of a hassle, even you have to admit that, Saks.”

  “I don’t have to admit anything,” she says with a little sniff, lifting her chin in the air. “Besides, one of these days, I’m going to be a Baird myself.”

  She says it with such confidence that I don’t even question it, but Perry rolls his eyes. “Give it up. He’ll never come back here, not now that he’s finally gotten free.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say slowly, fiddling with the edge of my sweater vest. “You’re going to have to explain things for the American girl. Who are we talking about?”

  “Seb the Wanker,” Perry says, but Sakshi shoves at his leg, frowning.

  “Prince Sebastian of Scotland, my future husband,” she informs me. “That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

  “To . . . marry Prince Sebastian?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Sakshi nods, like it’s perfectly normal to set your sights on a royal husband at seventeen, then plan your schooling accordingly.

  “Of course, when I applied to be part of Gregorstoun’s first female class, it wasn’t all about Seb. It was beyond time they let women into this place, and I was determined to be among the first wave. But one should always have a secondary goal, and mine is becoming a princess.”

  She lifts one shoulder. “I don’t think it’s a bad goal to have.”

  “It’s barking mad,” Perry says, and I get the sense this has been a long-running argument between them.

  Something must show on my face because Sakshi waves a hand at Perry and says, “We’ve known each other for donkey’s, haven’t we, Perry? Our families have houses next door to each other in Belgravia, but this is the first time we’ve gone to school together.”

  “Bully for me,” Perry mutters, but I can tell there’s no real animosity there. For all that they keep sniping at each other, they do seem like really good friends, and I suddenly miss home more than I’d thought I would. Perry doesn’t look anything like Lee, but he makes me miss him all the same. Lee and Darcy, even.

  Jude.

  Ugh, no, Scotland is a No-Jude-Thoughts Zone. I’m here for school and finally seeing more of the world, something different from the flat plains of home.

  “So you want to be a princess?” I ask Sakshi, but to my surprise, she shakes her head.

  “It’s not that, exactly. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the title, the castle, the jewels, that will all be lovely. But the real goal is the opportunity. There’s so much I’d like to do for the world, and being a princess opens up those doors. It’s the best way to achieve my humanitarian goals.” Then she shrugs. “Also, he’s hotter than a bakery on the surface of the sun, so there’s that.”

  “Unbelievable,” Perry mutters, but before Saks can reply, a woman walks into the room. She’s wearing a fairly boring gray suit, but her hair is almost as red as Perry’s, and it’s pulled back from her face in a flattering updo.

  “Ladies!” she says brightly, clapping her hands together. Then her eyes land on Perry, and she frowns.

  “Ladies and Mr. Fowler, perhaps I should say.”

  Mumbling an apology around a mouthful of cake, Perry gets up, dragging his chair back against the wall before slinking out with a quick wave to me and Sakshi.

  She sighs as he goes. “Hopeless Perry.”

  “I hope for his sake that’s not an actual nickname,” I mutter, and Sakshi laughs, briefly touching my knee.

  “It should be.”

  The lady in the gray suit gestures for us to stand, and we do. Well, most of us do. I glance over and see that Flora takes her time unwinding from her comfy position on the sofa.

  I also notice the way the lady in the suit’s eyes flick down to take in Flora’s lack of uniform, and the slight frown she gives.

  But then she smiles at all of us, hands once again clasped in front of her. “Ladies,” she begins again. “I am Dr. McKee, your headmistress. Welcome to Gregorstoun. I hope you’ve all felt very welcome on your first official day.”

  We all nod and make general murmuring sounds of agreement, and then a voice rings out, clear and posh, lilting and musical.

  “I was not made to feel very welcome, Dr. McKee,” Flora says, and then she glances over at me, lips curling.

  CHAPTER 10

  We all stand there in the drawing room, focused on Flora, which is probably her idea of heaven. She seems like the type of girl who’s very invested in being the center of attention.

  And I stand there and wait for the ground to swallow me up, or for guards to rush in and seize me for daring to call the princess a name.

  But then, her lips still curled in that cat-that-got-the-canary smile, Flora looks at Dr. McKee and says, “Sebastian told me there were bagpipers on the first day.” She lifts one shoulder in an elegant half shrug. “I’m afraid I don’t feel welcome anywhere that doesn’t provide the appropriate fanfare.”

  She winks then—actually winks! At a teacher! No, not a teacher, a headmistress—and giggles run through the room.

  I sigh in relief, only to feel my shoulders tense right back up when Flora once again meets my eyes.

  She winks again, but this time it isn’t cheeky or cute.

  Shaking her head, Dr. McKee clasps her hands behind her back. “We’ll try to do better in the future, Miss Baird,” she says. “Perhaps someone can play the kazoo for you as you make your way to the showers in the morning.”

  More giggles, and then she walks across the room to a heavy wooden door, opens it, and waves us inside.

  “Miss Baird?” I ask Sakshi in a low voice as we trudge along with the herd of girls. “Not Your Majesty?”

  “That would be for the queen,” Saks
replies over her shoulder at me. “Flora’s an HRH.”

  When I just stare at her, she clarifies, “Her Royal Highness. But in any case, it doesn’t matter here. No titles, that’s the rule. It’s why I’m Miss Worthington instead of Lady Sakshi.”

  I almost stop in my tracks, which would’ve probably caused some kind of domino effect of plaid. “You’re a lady?” I ask, and Sakshi nods, flicking her heavy bangs out of her eyes.

  “My father is the Duke of Alcott, which makes me a lady, but definitely not an HRH.” Then she grins. “Yet. But anyway, Flora is Miss Baird whenever she’s here, yes.”

  Maybe it’s because I spent so much of my time thinking about what Gregorstoun would mean to me without paying that much attention to what the school was like, or maybe it’s that Gregorstoun does a good job of downplaying just how fancy it actually is, but I haven’t really thought about what it would be like to go to school with someone who has a title. The royals are one thing, but even the “normal” people here are fancier than I thought they’d be, and that’s . . .

  “Weird” doesn’t even start to cover it. How much else don’t I know?

  The room we’ve been led into is a lot less cozy than the drawing room, and about ten degrees colder. The walls are stone, the windows thicker, and in the center of the floor is a ginormous circular oak table. The chandeliers overhead appear to be made of . . . antlers? Yeah, definitely antlers, and while they use light bulbs instead of candles, the effect is still awfully medieval.

  “Is this where we’re made into knights?” I ask Saks, and she snorts as we pull up seats next to each other at the table.

  Flora sits near the other end with those other two girls, and Saks glances over at her.

  “Blimey, she’s a piece of work,” she murmurs. “I’d forgotten what she was like.”

  “You knew Flora before?” I ask, and she nods.