Now we’re definitely more-than, but is it maybe too soon to be this . . . official? This isn’t just some family visit, after all. It’s a party for the upcoming royal wedding. Will I go to the wedding with Flora as her date? And speaking of weddings, how will that work one day for Flora? I mean, it’s way too soon to be thinking about getting married, but is there a title for a girl who marries a princess? Is there—
“You have your Thinky Quint Face on.”
I glance over to see Flora leaning on the armrest close to me, her lips slightly pursed, eyes narrowed.
“Because I am Quint, and I am thinky,” I tell her, but when she leans over to kiss me, it chases all those thinky thoughts away.
When the train pulls into Waverly Station, there’s a car waiting for us.
There’s also a handful of photographers. Not the sea of flashbulbs I was expecting, but still, I feel very aware of the fact that I’m wearing jeans, a sweater, and sneakers, and that I probably should’ve gone with something other than a ponytail for my hair.
Flora let me borrow a pair of her sunglasses, and they feel too big and too silly on my face, but I’m glad for them as we get into the back of the town car.
“Oof,” I say once the door has shut behind us and we’re winding our way through a narrow street, passing a sea of touristy shops. “I have never been so aware of people looking at me.”
“How dare you? They were looking at me,” Flora replies, but she’s smiling when she says it, and I laugh, fluffing out my bangs and attempting to smooth back my hair.
“We are going to have a chance to look a little nicer before I meet the other royals, right?” I ask, and Flora nods, already typing away on her phone.
“Glynnis is in charge of this entire thing, so we might actually have hairdressers meeting us at Holyrood.”
She’s kidding.
At least I think she is.
But I don’t have time to ask because the car is suddenly pulling up to the palace, turning through big wrought-iron gates, and it’s all I can do not to press my nose against the window as Holyrood looms into view.
“Oh man,” I breathe, taking in the warm-colored stone under the afternoon light. “It’s so . . .”
“It is,” Flora says happily, and when she reaches out to squeeze my hand, I feel that same mix of giddiness and terror that accompanied me on the train ride down.
Glynnis is waiting for us in the drive, as shiny and polished as ever, and I notice Nicola standing a few feet away. She’s not quite as put together as her mom, but she still looks nice in a button-down shirt and cute skirt.
“Hi again,” I say to her, waving, and she waves back before walking over.
As Flora and Glynnis confer about something, Nicola leans close and says, “This is going to be a lot more intense than Skye, but I promise no one is as scary as they seem.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, but she just pats me on the shoulder with a sympathetic look before going back over to her mom.
“Amelia,” Glynnis says, gesturing me over and snapping at a footman lingering near the car.
“Ralph here will see you to your room,” she says before leaning in and saying to the footman, “the Darnley Suite. If the garment bag is not in there, call Charles and tell him to call me.”
“Roger, madam,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s telling her he understands or if he’s correcting her on his name.
In any case, it all sounds vaguely like code.
Then Glynnis turns her attention back to me. “Celeste will come to do your hair at three, then Veronica will be in to do your makeup at four. Once you’re dressed, I’ll send someone up with a selection of jewels.”
I swallow hard. “Jewels?”
The word cracks somewhere in the middle, and my hand goes to my throat, remembering that collar of diamonds Flora wore up on Skye. Will I have something like that? I . . . cannot be trusted with something like that. I’ll spend the whole night with my hand on my neck, making sure an object that costs the same as my dad’s house—if not more—hasn’t plunged into my soup bowl.
Glynnis sees my gesture and laughs a little, shaking her head. “Only some earrings—nothing too valuable.”
Somehow I think me and Glynnis don’t have the same idea about what “valuable” means, but I’m relieved enough to nod and say, “Sounds great!”
“Emeralds,” Flora says to Glynnis, who nods, making a note on her ever-present iPad.
“Go on,” Flora tells me, nudging my hand. “Rest up, and I’ll see you at five for drinks in the pink drawing room.”
When I stare blankly at her, she adds, “Someone will come get you, don’t worry about it.”
With another smile, she’s off with Glynnis and Nicola, and I’m left to follow Ralph-or-maybe-Roger to my room.
I don’t actually have a lot of time for gawping at my surroundings, and we go up a series of back staircases and down a bunch of narrow halls, twisting and turning until I’m at a room that’s not as pretty as my room on Skye, but still way nicer than anything I’ve ever seen.
And sure enough, there’s a garment bag laid out for me on the bed.
Unzipping it, I see the ball gown I wore on Skye.
“Hi there,” I tell it, stroking my hand over the fabric and remembering that dance in the orangery with Flora. Maybe this dress is a good luck charm?
I definitely feel like I’m going to need one.
CHAPTER 35
In a weird way, it’s like the night at Skye all over again.
Me in my green dress, Flora in another ball gown, this one gold instead of tartan, another castle, more people in strange old-fashioned uniforms.
It should feel the same, and maybe for Flora it does. This is the kind of thing she’s used to, after all. But for me, everything is different.
Flora slips her arm through mine as we approach a pair of huge gilded doors, and I take a deep breath.
Flora glances over at me. “They’re just people,” she says. “End of the day, same as anyone else.”
Looking over at her, I raise both my eyebrows. “Do you actually believe that?”
“Oh god, no,” she replies immediately, giving a little shudder. “Bloody terrifying, the whole lot of them, me included.”
That makes me laugh, and when she reaches out and briefly takes my hand, I give it a quick squeeze back.
Flora may have been joking, but there’s no doubt that this particular Meet the Parents moment is more intense than the usual.
Not that we’ve been totally open about what we are, of course.
If we even are anything.
Please. Me? Royal Girlfriend? The idea is so ridiculous I want to laugh.
Except that when Flora’s hand drops from mine, my fingers almost instinctively curl around the empty space, wanting to hold on to her longer. And that feels . . . a lot more than friendly.
But then the doors open, and I don’t have time to overthink things anymore.
This is the family’s private drawing room, but it’s still crowded. All those ball gowns and kilts take up a lot of room, I guess, and I feel shaky and sweaty.
Then I hear, “Ah, here she is.”
I’ve never met Flora’s older brother before, but I recognize Prince Alexander as he stands and crosses the room to hug Flora, kissing both her cheeks.
Then he turns to me.
I have a moment of panic. I know I’m supposed to curtsy to the queen, and that means I should probably curtsy to a prince, too, but how deep? Not as deep as I’d curtsy to the queen, right?
I put one foot behind the other, ready to dip, but Alex stops me with a shake of his head and a smile. “No need for that when it’s just family,” he says, reaching out to instead shake my hand.
Flustered, I shake back, then look over at Flora, who’s smiling.
There’s a pretty blonde just behind Alex, and I realize this must be his fiancée, Eleanor. Another American in this mess is kind of nice to see, so I probably give her too big of a smile as I reach out to shake her hand, too.
“Hi, I’m Millie. Amelia. Either, really.”
“Eleanor,” she replies. “Ellie. Either, really, as well.”
Her smile is genuine and warm, and I wonder if I can maybe just spend the entire night talking to her and Alex and not deal with any other royals.
“You’re from Texas, right?” Ellie asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, outside Houston. How did you know that?”
Alex squeezes Ellie’s hand, giving her a small smile. “Ellie makes it her business to know most everything,” he says. “I’d be lost without her, always trying to remember names and who’s from where.”
“You’d be fine,” Ellie tells him, but Flora looks over at me and mouths, No, he wouldn’t.
Is this how it can be here? Just . . . kind of normal? The regular family stuff?
Then I look at the massive paintings on the wall, the fancy weaponry, the suits of armor, and remember that, no, nothing here is normal, and I should probably keep that in mind.
Leaning in close, Alex says to Flora, “Auntie Argie wants to talk to you about something. I’d get that over with as soon as possible if I were you.”
Groaning, Flora rolls her eyes and then turns to me. “Let me go deal with that. You’ll be fine on your own for a few, right?”
I look around at a sea of glittering jewels and champagne glasses. “Oh, yeah,” I say weakly. “Business as usual.”
And then she’s gone in a cloud of silk and expensive perfume, and when I look over to talk to Alex and Ellie, they’re gone, too.
Leaving me just . . . standing there.
“Heeeey, so you have the glazed expression of a person dealing with this whole shebang for the first time.”
I glance over to see a redhead who looks vaguely familiar, and she offers me a macaron on a napkin. “Take it,” she urges. “The sugar will help.”
She’s American, too, and I suddenly remember this is Ellie’s younger sister, Daisy. I guess she’s over for this pre-wedding party, too, and I let her push the treat into my hand, but I don’t eat it, looking out instead at the crowd of people milling around, at all the jewels sparkling in the lamplight. “I did a dinner thing,” I tell her. “Up north. There were fancy people there, but . . . this seems different.”
Nodding, Daisy takes a bite of her own macaron. “Yeah, the Full Palace Experience is something. But hey, you haven’t embarrassed yourself, or caused a fight at a polo match—”
“Or insulted a duchess,” a boy adds, coming up to stand next to Daisy. He’s a little taller than she is, with sandy hair and a face meant for that Prattle magazine Flora likes so much. I’m pretty sure he’s one of Seb’s friends, and, if the way Daisy slips an arm around his waist is any indication, he’s also her boyfriend.
“That was one time,” she tells him, holding up a finger. “One. Uno.”
“Is there a prerequisite for how many aristocrats one has to insult before it can be called ‘an Incident’?” the guy counters, and Daisy looks up, clearly pretending to think it over.
“Three,” she decides. “Three pissed-off duchesses, and it’s a problem. One is a fluke.”
He smiles at her, and it changes his face slightly, making him look younger, cuter. And also head over heels in love.
Daisy’s got it just as bad if the way she’s looking at him is any indication, and I find my own eyes searching out Flora across the room. Are we that obvious? Maybe not?
“Ohhhhh, so you’re Flora’s crush!”
I startle slightly, turning my head back to Daisy, who’s grinning at me. “What? No, we’re roommates. Or we were.”
“You can’t be both?” she asks before turning back to the boy at her side. “Miles, light of my life, pain in my ass, will you go get me and . . .”
“Millie,” I supply, and she nods.
“Great, Millie. Would you go get Millie and me a couple of drinks, please? The nonalcoholic kind, please.”
“That was also one time,” he mutters, but he presses a quick kiss to her temple before heading off toward the refreshments table.
“Seriously, spill,” she says as soon as he’s gone. “Because Ellie and Alex were gossiping about Flora having it bad for someone. And, I have to say, I’m relieved because you look so normal and nice? This family needs more normal and nice. I’m normal, but nice still eludes me a little. Sorry, is this too much?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m relieved, too. Just that there’s someone else who gets how weird this all is.”
“It is vast oceans of weird, my friend, for sure.”
For a moment, we just stand there, staring at all the people milling around. And then Daisy nudges me with her elbow, nodding toward Miles as he stands near the bar with Spiffy and Dons.
“But sometimes,” Daisy says, “you meet someone who makes it all worth it.”
I try my best to smile at her, but I clearly don’t do so great with it because Daisy reaches out and touches my arm now, her lips pressing together with sympathy. “Except it’s different when your person is just, like, the chips and salsa as opposed to the whole enchilada.”
Glancing over at her, I raise my eyebrows. “The chips and salsa?”
Daisy wrinkles her nose. “Okay, yeah, don’t tell Miles I called him that. I don’t think he’d see it as a compliment.”
“It’s a solid metaphor, though,” I admit, and Daisy grins, proud of herself.
“I thought so. But anyway, point is that even being with Miles felt weird at first, and he’s just the best friend. Watching my sister go through this with Alex . . .” She shakes her head. “She says he’s worth it, too, and I believe her, but I get it. Or I guess I get it as much as anyone can.”
That’s actually nice to hear, even though I’m not sure she does get it. Watching it and experiencing it are two different things. But she’s still the first person who at least gets that it’s weird. Perry and Saks have lived in this world for a long time, too, so they don’t have that same sense of it that I do, that this is . . . just not how people live, not really. It’s their world. It’s Flora’s world.
But it’s not mine.
But Flora? She’s mine. Or at least she is for right now.
I feel Daisy’s hand on my arm again, and she leans in. “Try not to overthink it. That’s the best advice I can give. Just . . . go with the flow.”
Looking around the room, at the expensive gowns and glittering jewels and actual swords affixed to the walls, that doesn’t seem possible, and I say so. “Has anyone in this room ever gone with the flow in their lives, you think?” I ask, and Daisy follows my gaze before shaking her head.
“Probably not, no, which is why they need us.”
Miles returns, holding goblets of water, and as he hands them to us, he apologizes, saying, “I know this is not the most exciting of beverage options, but it’s all they have that isn’t booze.”
“‘The most exciting of beverage options’—how am I attracted to you?” Daisy mutters, but she takes the water anyway before nodding at me and saying, “This is Millie. She’s Flora’s crush.”
“I know,” he says, surprising us both. “I read about that earlier.” Then he offers me a genuine smile. “Congrats and all that.”
“You read about it?” I ask. “Where?”
Thanks to a clever school chum with an iPhone, PEOPLE has these exclusive shots of Princess Flora of Scotland cozying up to her American roommate, Amelia Quint. The Princess and the Texan have been rumored to be more than friends recently, but these pictures of them kissing seem to put to rest any doubts as to the nature of their relationship.
However, don’t get your heart too set on th
is being the new Royal Romance now that Flora’s brother and his own American Girl, Ellie Winters, are getting closer to tying the knot.
“Flora was mad for Tam,” a source tells PEOPLE exclusively, referring to Lady Tamsin Campbell, once thought to be paired with Prince Sebastian, “and they’ll probably end up back together in the end. Flora only chucked her because she freaked out when it got too serious. Honestly, most of us think this thing with the roommate is just a ploy to make Tam jealous.”
Poor Amelia!
(“EXCLUSIVE: FLORA AND GAL PAL HEAT UP THE HIGHLANDS!” from People)
CHAPTER 36
I sit on the little tufted bench in the dim hallway, staring at my phone.
It’s not a bad picture of me with Flora. In fact, I look kind of . . . good in it. Not as good as Flora, of course, but then, I’m not superhuman. It’s cute, though, us hand in hand there by the rocks, smiling at each other. The next picture captured that moment when Flora pushed my hair back from my face, and okay, that one I can’t really look at because my heart-eyes are kind of ridiculous.
But I keep looking at that line about Flora “chucking” Tam. Flora told me Tamsin broke up with her, not the other way around. Is that true? I think back to seeing Tam back on Skye. She’d seemed cold and standoffish, yeah, but had that actually been hurt, not snobbery?
“There you are.”
I glance up to see Flora coming down the hall toward me, her dress belling out prettily as she walks. How many dresses like that does Flora own? I wonder.
Reaching out to me, she takes my hand. “We’re about to go in for dinner. It’ll be just like at Lord Henry’s, so we won’t get to sit together, but I’ve made sure you’re near Daisy so you’ll have someone to talk to at least, and—what is it?”
Her Royal Highness Page 19