Her Royal Highness

by Rachel Hawkins

  “Thanks to you,” Caroline adds. “She was devastated when she found out they’d decided to give the scholarship to some little upstart from nowhere.”

  I gape at them. I can’t help it. Upstart? Are we in Victorian times? Do they think I was selling flowers on a street corner somewhere?

  “Why would one of your friends need a scholarship anyway? Don’t you people have tons of money because of . . . peasants? And oppression?”

  Caroline’s lips thin as she folds her arms over her chest and glares down at me. “You really have no idea how anything works, do you?”

  Heaving out a sigh, I shift my satchel of books to my other shoulder. “I don’t, believe me. Now can I please scooch?”

  I press my palms together, gesturing to the sliver of space between them, and Ilse moves closer. “Lord, Flora was not kidding about you.”

  Great, so we’re at the “implying someone said nasty things about you” portion of this whole deal, and I’m about to reply that I don’t care what Flora has said, when I suddenly hear Sakshi’s voice, ringing out loud and clear.

  “Are the two of you finished?”

  Caroline and Ilse turn to see all 567 feet of Sakshi standing there, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders and the most perfectly disdainful, bored expression on her face. It’s so great that I make a note to immediately start practicing it in the mirror. I have a feeling I’m going to need that look.

  To my surprise, it totally works on Caroline and Ilse, too. They throw me a couple of nasty glances, but they slink off without any other snide remarks, and Saks dusts her hands like she’s just completed an unpleasant but necessary task.

  “Those two,” she says, shaking her head; then she steps forward, her expression concerned as she touches my arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” I tell her, smiling. “I went to a giant high school in Texas, so mean girls are nothing new. And honestly their attempt at bullying was almost . . . quaint?”

  That makes Saks smile, and she links her arm through mine as we make our way down the hallway. “I can’t believe they’re still so upset over Rose Haddon-Waverly. It’s done, move on, live in the now, my god.”

  She says all of that with a wave of her hand, and I glance up at her. “So you overheard?”

  Sakshi shakes her head. “I just assumed that’s what it was about. It was a bit of a to-do in our circles, Rose not getting in.” She gives another exaggerated sigh. “Her father lost the family fortune in some sort of horse fiasco a few years back.”

  I don’t even ask what “horse fiasco” might mean here, because I’m not sure I want to know, but I do ask, “So there are poor fancy people mixed in with the rich fancy people?”

  Saks nods. “More of the former than you’d think. Not me of course, Daddy owns half of Belgravia. And not Caroline or Ilse, either. Or Perry. It’s why he’ll probably marry a pop star or something despite his entire . . .” Another hand wave, this one I think meant to take in literally everything about Perry.

  Then Saks looks down at me and pats my hand. “Don’t worry, though. You’ll figure it all out eventually!”

  She beams at me, and I make myself smile back, even as I think, Don’t hold your breath on that, Saks. The rest of the day passes like they always do—class, a bizarre tea break at 4 p.m. that still takes some getting used to, but by 6-ish, I’m back in my room, reading The Mill on the Floss, and doing my best to ignore the clacking of Flora’s computer.

  Which is a feat given that she’s pushing those buttons so hard it’s like she’s imagining they’re my face.

  My own computer is open on my bed because I’m waiting for Lee to call me in Hangouts, and when there’s a bloop sound, I put down my book, already sitting up with a smile.

  But then I see the message in Hangouts.

  It’s not Lee.

  It’s Jude.

  There’s just one word typed there.

  Hi?

  That question mark makes me frown at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Am I going to reply? Why is she messaging now? Does she—

  “Knock-knock,” a voice calls.

  I look up, and hooooooly moly. The boy standing in our doorway is model-hot, all dark auburn hair and twinkling blue eyes. He’s wearing a green sweater with the best pair of jeans ever created, and I blink at him, trying to figure out where someone this gorgeous came from.

  Then it hits me.

  This must be Flora’s boyfriend. They go together too perfectly for him to be anything but hers. Probably a duke’s son or a viscount or something.

  And sure enough, Flora leaps up from her bed with a squeal, slamming her laptop closed. “Seb!”

  I watch her launch herself across the room and into his arms, and both their faces transform into something really . . . sweet.

  Like, they’re both frighteningly hot, but they’re almost goofy as they smile at each other, and I realize that for as sexy as they both are, there’s a distinct lack of spark between them. They seem almost like—

  “Who’s this?” Seb asks, looking over Flora’s shoulder at me, and Flora pulls back to give me her trademark dismissive look.

  “Roomie. Quint,” she says, like using any more words to describe me might cause her physical pain.

  Neat.

  “Well, Roomie Quint,” Seb says, walking toward me with an outstretched hand. “I’m Brother Seb.” Then he grins, a dimple flashing in his cheek. “Brother Seb, that makes me sound like a monk.”

  Snorting, Flora slaps at his arm. “And you’d be a bloody terrible one.”

  I’m still hung up on “brother.” This is Flora’s brother? They look about the same age, sure, but they don’t look much alike, even if they were both clearly blessed by the Gene Fairy.

  And he’s not just her brother, I suddenly remember.

  “You’re twins, right?” I ask, shaking Seb’s outstretched hand. His skin is warm and soft, and I’m sure many a girl has shivered at that touch.

  “We don’t look much alike, I’ll admit, but we are indeed twins,” he says before smiling at Flora. “She’s older by three minutes and has never let me forget it.”

  Then he looks at us, a slightly dangerous glint in his eyes. “So,” he says with a smirk, “you two ready to have some fun?”

  CHAPTER 12

  “It’s friday,” I blurt out, and both Flora and Seb turn to look at me.

  Seb grins a little, teeth practically flashing as he slides his hand in his back pocket. “So it is,” he says, lifting one shoulder. “But it’s just a trip down to the pub. I wouldn’t keep you out late, Roomie Quint.”

  Flora’s eyes narrow slightly and my cheeks go hot. Suddenly Sakshi’s crush on Seb makes a lot of sense to me, but I’m still not about to go gallivanting off . . . wherever with the two of them.

  I’m a rule follower by nature. I’ve never broken curfew, never skipped school, and never been to a bar.

  And Jude’s message is still there on my screen, waiting.

  So now I just lift my book from my bed and wiggle it slightly. “Homework,” I say. “But you two have fun.”

  “Told you,” Flora says in a low voice to Seb, and I’m guessing that means she’s already filled him in on what a bore I am. Fine by me.

  Then she steps a little closer to her brother. “Are they all here?”

  Seb shakes his head, which has the effect of loosing the perfect amount of hair to flop over his forehead. “Not all. Spiffy, Dons, and Gilly were free, but Sherbet’s busy with school, and Monters is, of course, dead.”

  I blink at that, but Flora just rolls her eyes. “He’s not dead, and Caroline said he’s actually back in Scotland now.”

  “No, he’s extremely dead, and it’s all very tragic, but I’m moving past it. In any case, Monters wouldn’t have been any help here.”

  Flora thin
ks that over, tilting her head to one side, before nodding with a “True,” and flipping her hair back over her shoulders. “Oh well. Two is better than none, I suppose. Shall we?”

  I pretend to read as I watch Flora grab a gray leather jacket off the back of her desk chair, throwing it on over the sweater and jeans she’d changed into earlier. Then she slips her arm through Seb’s, and off they go, the door closing behind them.

  I heave a sigh of relief and toss the book to the side, turning my attention back to my laptop. Maybe I’ll just reply with a “hi,” too. Or I could message Lee and ask what he thinks. That’s what I’ll do.

  I open a separate message to text Lee, but there’s something niggling in the back of my mind, and, after a sec, I realize it’s a Friendship Alarm.

  Saks.

  She might not even know Seb is here, and if I tell her that not only was he here, but he came to my room and invited me on a night out, she might never forgive me. Plus I owe her after she came to my rescue today.

  Ugh.

  I only hesitate for a second before closing the laptop.

  Rolling my eyes at myself, I groan and step out into the hallway. “Hey!” I call out, and Flora and Seb turn, almost at the exact same time. I wonder if they’ve practiced that, stunning people with the gorgeousness of their faces.

  “I, uh. I think I’ll come after all,” I say, and then shooting for the ultimate in casual, I prop one hand on my hip. “Is it okay if I invite Sakshi?”

  “Saks Worthington?” Seb asks, his face splitting with a lazy grin. “Absolutely.”

  Flora raises her eyebrows. “Wait, you and Sakshi are actually friends? I just assumed she’d adopted you as one of her charity cases.”

  Lovely. “Believe it or not, real friends,” I reply, not even rising to that bait. “So can I bring her?”

  Flora glances at her brother. “Seb—” she starts, but he grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

  “The more the merrier, sister of mine!”

  Flora’s upper lip curls a little, but she glances over at me and, with a shrug, finally mutters, “Whatever.”

  That’s all the permission I need, and I scoot past the royal siblings to jog down to the second floor.

  Sakshi opens the door on my second knock, her hair scraped back from her face, a sheet mask on. “Millie!” she exclaims. “What—”

  “Sebishereandwantstogoout,” I say in a rush, but, thank god, after just a week of friendship, Saks can interpret Nervous Millie.

  Holding one finger out in my face, she says, “Twenty. Seconds.”

  The door slams, and I stand there on the other side, gaping at the wood because there is no way—

  The door flies open again, and there stands Saks, wearing a perfect pair of jeans, a T-shirt just short enough to expose her toned stomach, and no sheet mask in sight. In fact, she appears to be—

  “How did you get a full face of makeup on that fast?” I ask wonderingly, and Sakshi brushes me off.

  “Practice. Now where is he?”

  “Where is who?”

  We turn to see Perry standing in the hall, two pastries in his hand. Honestly, I don’t know how Perry is so thin, given that he eats everything in sight, but now he brushes the crumbs off his jumper—I’ve learned that’s what they call sweaters here—and stares at me and Saks.

  “Seb,” Saks tells him. “Seb is here with Flora, and they’re going into the village for drinks.”

  Looking around him, Perry mutters, “Well, I’m coming, too, then,” before stuffing his pastries into a potted plant.

  One hand on her hip, Sakshi gives him a look. “If you screw this up for me, Peregrine . . .”

  He lifts both hands, palms out. “Who’s screwing up? I want to hang with royalty, that’s all.”

  I’m not sure Perry’s presence will be as welcome as Sakshi’s, but I nod, gesturing at both of them. “Great, great, we’re all living how the other half lives tonight. Now can we go?”

  Seb and Flora are waiting by the front door, and I have a feeling that if we’d been even ten seconds later, Flora would’ve pulled him out and left us behind already, but Seb grins at both me and Saks, and even offers his hand to Perry.

  “Fowler, isn’t it?” he asks, and Perry turns pink, nodding enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, yeah. Fowler. That’s me!” When Seb turns back to Flora, Perry gapes at me and Sakshi. “He knows my name!”

  “You are so sad,” Saks replies, following Seb and Flora outside.

  There are two cars parked in the drive, a shiny Land Rover and a tiny but very expensive-looking sports car. There are boys in the Land Rover, leaning out the window. One has hair nearly as red as Perry’s, and he waves as we approach. “Flo!” he calls out, and I dart a glance over at Flora. Surely she’s not okay with people calling her Flo? Flora is such a—

  “Gilly!” She waves, smiling broadly, then drops Seb’s arm to jog over to the Land Rover, her ponytail swinging.

  Okay, so maybe she’s a little more laid-back than I thought.

  The boy hanging out the window hugs her, while the dark-haired boys in the back cheer, “Flo!”

  “Listen, mates,” Seb tells them, striding forward, his hands in his pockets. “You go on to the pub, grab that booth I like. I’ll drive this lot.”

  He jerks his thumb at all of us, and I lean forward to ask Saks, “Are we going to get in trouble for this? Leaving school grounds?”

  Perry answers me. “As long as we’re not skipping class, and we don’t go any farther than the village, it’s fine for anyone in Year 13. Part of the whole Gregorstoun experience. Learning to make responsible choices.”

  I’m not sure cramming into the back seat of Seb’s tiny sports car counts as “responsible,” but that’s what I find myself doing, wedged in with Perry and Saks as Flora takes the passenger seat.

  I have a vague memory of passing through the village on my way to the school, but to be honest, that day my mind was mostly full of the bee-buzz of panic and nerves, so I’d barely registered it. Driving down now, shoved in the back of Seb’s tiny car, I have a little more time to admire it.

  The school sits uphill from the rest of Dungregor, the village itself nestled in a valley, which makes all the little shops and buildings lining the main road particularly charming and cozy. Like a little jewel box of a town, tucked away from the rest of the world.

  It’s late afternoon, and the light is a soft golden color, sliding over the steep hills. There’s a little bit of snow just at the top of the highest peaks, and I remember that it won’t be too long before I’m in those hills, on the Challenge.

  Seb sighs. “Christ, this place is grim,” he mutters. “I always forget.”

  In the passenger seat, Flora twists to look at him. “Missing it already, Sebby?” she asks sweetly, and he snorts.

  “The only thing I miss about Gregorstoun is that I wasn’t under Mummy’s nose when I was up here.”

  That makes Flora smirk, and she turns to face the road again. “Well, if you hadn’t been such a prat, you wouldn’t have been summoned home.”

  Sakshi is pressed up tight against my left, her knees practically to her ears because this car was not built for Glamazons, and she nudges me with her elbow, giving me a significant look.

  But since I have no idea what that look means, its significance is totally lost on me, and Sakshi gives me that vaguely pitying smile I’ve seen every time I reinforce her idea of me as the Clueless Colonist.

  Patting my knee, she mouths, We’ll talk later.

  Really looking forward to that.

  I try to go back to looking at the village, but now Perry is piping up from Sakshi’s other side. “I went to St. Edmund’s for a bit,” he offers. “But Mum thought they were too soft on me, so I got sent to Gregorstoun a few years back.”

  Seb meets his eyes in the
rearview mirror, one side of his mouth kicking up in a smile. He and Flora really don’t look that much alike, but that smile? That is for sure a Flora smile, one I’ve seen curl and twist on her face multiple times in the past few weeks.

  “Gregorstoun must have been a whole new world for you, then, mate,” Seb drawls, and Perry’s cheeks flame red as he gives an awkward chuckle.

  “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, Perry’s attempt at Laddish Camaraderie, I guess.

  Flora turns to her brother to ask him something, and as she does, Perry leans across Sakshi’s acres of leg to hiss, “Bloody hell, I’m straight, and that’s twice he made me blush. He must be a menace to girls.”

  I roll my lips together to keep from laughing, more at Perry’s vaguely scandalized expression than the idea of Seb as a menace, but Sakshi just looks confused.

  “Wait, you’re straight?” she asks, and Perry sits up, his eyes darting to the front seat.

  Flora and Seb are still talking, surrounded in that bubble I’ve seen Flora create before where she can pretend we lesser mortals don’t exist.

  “Yeah,” Perry says in a low voice. “Wait, you didn’t think I was? Saks, we’ve known each other since we were five. How could you not know that?”

  Sakshi gives an elegant shrug. “It’s hard to tell with you lot, to be honest.”

  “My lot?” Perry repeats, aghast, and Sakshi waves her hand.

  “You know. Pale weedy aristocrats.”

  “Weedy?” Perry is about to literally choke on his outrage now, but the car is mercifully pulling into a spot just in front of the biggest of the white buildings we’ve passed, a place with THE RAMSAY ARMS painted in bold brown letters on one side.

  Seb opens his door and steps out, then turns to fold the front seat forward, offering me his hand with a “Milady.”

  I blush as I put my palm against his, allowing him to help me out of the car.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, and he gives me a wink before leaning against the open car door, elbow cocked.