Of Princes and Promises

by Sandhya Menon

  Caterina felt her heart break a little. She shook her head. “He’s really not. I promise.”

  RC studied her for a long moment, and just when she thought he was going to refuse and break her heart even more, he nodded. “All right.”

  * * *

  Inside, she waited in the lavender-scented hallway next to a short, wide-hipped middle-aged woman who’d introduced herself as a docent—this must be a museum of sorts, then—while RC excused himself to the bathroom. A few moments later, the door to the bathroom opened. Caterina held her breath.

  Rahul appeared, glasses in place, his hair slightly damp and hanging flat. His face was completely makeup-free, and there was a big splotch of water on his collar. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised, a questioning smile on his face, and shrugged.

  Caterina’s heart swelled. Walking forward, she squeezed his hand and nodded. “You look beautiful,” she whispered, and he smiled, just a little more confidently. “So,” she said, threading her arm through his. “Where are we? I’m dying to know.”

  The docent looked up, ready to launch into a no-doubt-rehearsed explanation, but Rahul beat her to it. “This is a Victorian mansion, owned by one of Jaya’s friends. Apparently they’ve turned it into a sort of fashion museum of the time.”

  “And, as a special twist,” the docent, not to be outdone, put in, “every single one of the pieces here was directly passed on to the person who donated it, which means we have a complete history of each article of clothing. We’re very lucky to have something like this here in Rosetta. And, of course, you’re lucky to be able to come here before it’s open to the public.”

  “I am,” Caterina agreed, looking into Rahul’s eyes. “I’m very lucky.”

  RAHUL

  “This is incredible,” Caterina breathed, bending over to read the note attached to the black-and-red silk gown in front of her. They were in what was the master bedroom of the house, a small, dark room with wooden everything—walls, ceiling, and floors. “Oh, look: This dress was worn to the wedding of this woman’s ex–best friend. Apparently, the best friend married the woman’s longtime beau, so she had it specially made for the wedding. It has an inside pocket for concealing a knife.” Caterina laughed. “That’s a woman after my own heart.”

  When she looked at him, Rahul forced a laugh too. “Yeah, definitely.” She seemed to be having a good time. She’d thanked him twenty times for this thoughtful date. And he had to say, Jaya’s friend had really knocked it out of the park with this one.

  And yet… something about it just felt uncomfortable. Like he wasn’t able to fully allow himself to relax, like there was always a hand pressing down on his shoulders, or tapping him on the temple, or a voice whispering in his ear to remind him that he was Rahul right now. This was one of the most important moments of his life, and he was his old, drab, socially incompetent self when he could be doing so much better. He could be so much better.

  Why had she wanted him to be Rahul? It made no sense. Why would Rahul not be good enough for the galas and the events and her social circle, but good enough for their first date?

  Socially inept as he was, Rahul knew these were questions he should keep to himself. He could just imagine Leo—the old Leo, the one who’d cared—wringing his hands and spewing a flurry of French words if he were to ask Caterina why she didn’t want RC here at the date. So he kept her company as she walked from room to room, agog. He smiled at her exclamations of interest and happiness, and he was glad she was having fun.

  But he just couldn’t relax.

  CATERINA

  They walked into the parlor of the mansion, a room with a small brick fireplace in one wall. In the center of the room, poised on a settee, was a mannequin wearing an enormous hoop skirt. Caterina gasped quietly, every fashionista nerve in her body lighting up with interest. Walking over to the mannequin, she studied the card placed next to it, describing the origin of the dress and the details of the fabric and draping used.

  The docent hung like vapor in a corner of the room, her hands folded neatly over the front of her thighs, watching Caterina with a small, self-satisfied smile on her face. It was obvious she could tell Caterina was suitably reverential toward the artifacts before her. While Caterina studied the detachable collars and cuffs, Rahul came to stand beside her. He shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting with his sweater and his glasses, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Caterina looked up at him askance. Why was he so ill at ease?

  He cleared his throat. “Ah, that’s a nice dress.” He jerked his chin toward the mannequin. “Kind of like, ah, Marie Antoinette vibes.”

  Caterina bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He’d pronounced it “An-toy-nettie” because he’d obviously only ever read the name and never heard it pronounced. Caterina opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the docent had stepped forward and was speaking in clipped, judgmental tones.

  “Marie Antoinette”—she pronounced the name with a very sharp emphasis—“is from a different era, completely. She was from the Rococo period, whereas this dress is clearly from the Victorian era, by which time Marie Antoinette was already dead.” Her pale blue eyes were stern as she glared at Rahul, looking very much like a principal addressing a wayward student (not Dr. Waverly, the principal at Rosetta, obviously. Things were different at Rosetta Academy).

  Rahul seemed to wither under her stare. His tan cheeks flushing red, he swallowed compulsively, his eyes darting between Caterina and the docent as he wiped his palms on his jeans. “R-right. I know. Yeah. It was just, just an observation.…”

  Caterina stepped closer to him, straightening her shoulders and putting on her most imperious air. She didn’t like the way Rahul was acting, like a chided puppy. Where was the confidence she knew he had within him? But more than that, she didn’t like the docent making him feel this way. Gazing at the woman coolly, she said, “Might I remind you that Rahul and I are both here under the invitation of the owner of this house? I don’t remember a condition of the invitation being that we must both be experts in Victorian-era fashion to visit.”

  The docent blinked, a hand fluttering up to pat the bun on her head. “Oh yes, of course, of course. You’re right. I’ll, ah, leave you two to it, shall I?” Smiling a subservient smile now, she puttered off toward the kitchen.

  Caterina turned to Rahul in the dark, quiet parlor and put a hand on his elbow. “I’m having a lot of fun, so you know.”

  His expression brightened. “Really?”

  She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, feeling the muscle of his jaw under her lips. “Really.”

  RAHUL

  Was she just being nice? Her nearness was driving him to distraction, her skin soft and supple against his, the scent of her rosewater perfume maddening. As Caterina straightened and smiled at him, Rahul realized he wanted her to look at him with pride and happiness and desire, the way she did when he was all decked out as RC. He wanted her to see him as someone who belonged in her world, not someone who was told off by the docent because he didn’t even know how to pronounce “Antoinette” correctly. If she’d just been content to let him be RC here, he could’ve avoided all of this.

  Frustrated, Rahul rubbed the back of his neck and followed Caterina from the room.

  CATERINA

  An hour or so later, Caterina sat cross-legged on a wooden chair in the kitchen, her heels discarded under the table. “This was probably the most unique first date I’ve ever been on, hands down.”

  The docent, apparently eager to make amends, had insisted that they stay for pizza when she heard Caterina mention how hungry she was, and they had accepted. She’d made them a frozen pizza, set out a pitcher of lemonade, and then melted away, muttering about accounts.

  “Really?” Rahul chewed his slice of cheese pizza. His mouth was only full enough so he could still say his name, she realized, and the thought made her smile. “Even compared to Alaric? Didn’t he fly you somewhere on your first date with him?”
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  Caterina rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I can fly anywhere anytime I want. This—” She spread her arms wide. “This is magnificent. A hidden gem in the tiny town of Rosetta. Who knew?” She smiled at Rahul because the same could be said about him.

  Not getting her meaning, he raised his eyebrows. “Victorian fashion over Bora Bora or whatever. Wow. I’ll have to thank Jaya.”

  “So this was all her idea, then?” Caterina asked. It disappointed her just the tiniest bit that Rahul hadn’t thought of it himself.

  But Rahul shook his head. “No, no. She wanted me to take you to her friend’s ski-in, ski-out chateau in Aspen. She put me in touch with him, we got to talking, and that’s when he told me about this museum. It was like an offhand, passing remark. Something about how he’d be in Rosetta anyway, getting this ready for the opening week coming up. But when he told me what the opening was for, I knew right away I needed to bring you here instead. You told me you wanted to minor in Victorian-era fashion and you have that antique ring.…” He paused, looking a little worried. “Did I make the right choice? Jaya and the others didn’t seem to think so.”

  Caterina set her slice of pizza down and reached forward to put her hand on Rahul’s, something inside her going still and soft. “Wait. When I did I tell you I wanted to minor in Victorian-era fashion?”

  Rahul studied her for a moment before responding, as if he wasn’t sure of the intent behind her question. “In the limo, on the way to the Hindman Gala.”

  Caterina’s heart squeezed. He’d remembered. An offhand remark like that, and he’d held it close all this time. “Well. You made absolutely the right choice bringing me here.” He’d chosen this for her. He’d forgone the Aspen chateau and chosen this quirky, lovely Victorian fashion museum instead because he knew it was her passion, and that was such a Rahul thing to do that Caterina wanted to wrap him up in her arms. “I would so much rather be here than in some chateau in Aspen.”

  “Right…” He frowned, as if he were trying to work out a very difficult equation in his head. “Because… you can visit a chateau anytime?”

  Caterina chuckled at his attempt to decipher her emotions and reactions. “You got it. That makes the chateau not as special as this. This…” She looked around them at the fusty kitchen, which hadn’t been changed much, except to update the appliances. “This is precisely what I wanted to do tonight, and I didn’t even know it. Thank you, Rahul.”

  Rahul smiled at her. “So you’re having a good time. For real.”

  “I’m having the best time. For real.”

  Rahul hopped up from his seat. Walking over to the slightly modified Victorian-era gramophone on the counter, he fiddled with it until it began playing an old record, the noise scratchy and still rich somehow. He smiled at Caterina and then, walking back over to her, bowed low and held out one hand in an invitation.

  “Are we going to dance?” Caterina asked, surprised. “Right here?”

  “Right here,” Rahul said.

  “I’m not putting my heels back on,” she warned.

  In answer, Rahul kicked off his own shoes.

  Giggling, Caterina put her hand in his and let him lead her to the dance floor—aka the center of the small kitchen. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, and they swayed gently in time to the music from another era.

  Caterina closed her eyes, feeling his heart beating against her chest, not able to say where her own heartbeat ended and where his began. She felt the strength in his arms, the protective way he held her, as if he’d shield her from anything vile the world threw at her. She smelled soap on his skin, soft and warm and so Rahul. Pulling back, Caterina looked into his eyes, so much sharper behind his glasses than when he had his contacts in. “I’m really glad we’re here together,” she whispered.

  His gaze drifted down to her lips. “I’m really glad you’re with me,” he whispered back. “Gladder than you could ever know.”

  She pressed her lips to his then, drinking him in, never wanting him to let go.

  RAHUL

  Maybe it wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted for their first date. Maybe things would’ve been smoother, more fun for Caterina, had he been RC. But still, Rahul couldn’t find too much fault with this moment, right here, right now.

  Caterina’s body, so fragile and soft under his hands, so perfectly molded to him. Her skin, silk and heat, pressed against his. Her mouth, eager and hungry and searching. She was the question and she was the answer. She was everything.

  CHAPTER 17

  CATERINA

  Two days after her first date with Rahul, Caterina lay in bed, one arm flung over her stomach, the other bent over her eyes. She couldn’t sleep, which was a sure sign that something was very awry. When she was going through the final weeks of her relationship with Alaric, the first sign, before her brain even let her acknowledge that something was wrong, was that her body stopped letting her sleep restfully. It kept her awake at night, in those inky hours when everyone else was unconscious, because it wanted her to know, to face the inevitable. And now it was happening again.

  It bothered her the way Rahul had seemed slightly uncomfortable the entire night of their date, even while he laughed and joked with her, as if he were wearing a pair of shoes that were two sizes too small. At first Caterina had been worried that they lacked chemistry, that he didn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him. But those fears had been erased the moment they’d danced together in the little old-fashioned kitchen. No one kissed that way if they didn’t feel it in their bones, in their marrow. So what was it, then? Why had he had that discomfited edge all night?

  And then it came to her, like a lightning flash in a raven-black sky: His face had fallen at the very beginning of their date, when she’d asked him to take off the hair gel, to wipe off the makeup, to just be Rahul with her. That had to be it; that was why he’d seemed so uncomfortable the rest of the evening.

  Caterina moved the arm that had been covering her eyes and sat up slowly in bed, her silk covers puddling around her as she did. She stared straight ahead in the near darkness, knowing in her heart that Rahul Chopra was becoming more and more self-hating with every day that passed, with every event that he went to as RC. And it was all her fault.

  Scrabbling for her phone, she checked the time. Four a.m. It was much too early to text anyone, but she knew who she had to talk to. And she knew she’d be forgiven for waking her up.

  * * *

  Caterina jogged along the brightly lit, Olympic-size indoor track at the athletics center, keeping pace with Jaya. Even at this hour, the track was populated by a handful of other students, all clearly more athletic than her. Caterina never ran except when it was unavoidable or a matter of emergency, and she thought this morning’s conversation qualified as both.

  She glanced at Jaya, who appeared moderately awake, considering it was only five a.m. Her black hair was pulled back into a high bun, and her face was devoid of makeup in a way that Caterina would never let hers be. Even now, Caterina wore foundation, eyeliner, and a touch of nude lipstick. She’d also taken the time to brush dry shampoo into her hair for volume before gathering it up into a ponytail. “Thanks for meeting with me so early. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “Don’t worry about it at all. I come running here nearly every morning anyway. I just moved up the time today.” Jaya looked like a flower in her bright pink Lululemon leggings and tank top. “It sounds like you have some things on your mind.”

  Caterina didn’t say anything, mostly because she didn’t know what to say yet. Instead, she watched her legs, clad in plain black leggings, as they pumped up and down, carrying her along the track. With every heartbeat, she wondered if this was the right thing to do—to confide in someone else. She’d gotten closer to Jaya than other people over the last semester, and Caterina was sure she wouldn’t gossip about this to anyone. Jaya would only want to help. But still… Was it a betrayal of Rahul?

  “I heard the first
date went well,” Jaya prodded when Caterina still hadn’t spoken. “At least, according to Rahul.”

  Caterina adjusted her ponytail. “It did. It was a lot of fun.” She smiled, though she could tell it wasn’t as bright as it should’ve been.

  Jaya studied her expression for a moment, frowning a little. “But…?”

  “But…” Caterina shook her head, concentrating on her breathing while she got her thoughts in order. Maybe there was a way to ask the question without telling Jaya everything. “Have you or any of the others noticed anything about Rahul lately? Any changes in him?”

  “Well, he’s been spending more time apart from us… with you, I assume.”

  “Anything else?” Caterina pressed. “Anything with his, ah, personality?”

  Jaya appeared to consider this for the next few moments as they moved along the spongy track, their feet swallowing up the miles. “Well, I suppose so. Grey and Leo had a falling-out with Rahul, though Grey didn’t want to go into the details. Oh, and also, Grey mentioned that Rahul was changing the types of things he read. And his room was looking different too. Almost as if he was trying hard to impress—” She stopped short.

  Caterina looked at her. “Me. You mean he’s changing who he is to impress me.”

  Jaya smiled apologetically, her cheeks pink from the exercise. “It’s just what Leo and Grey thought. But Rahul seems to feel it’s all for the better. He says he never would’ve landed you if he hadn’t made the changes. And he’s loved you since the night of the winter dance.”

  That word again, “love.” First Mia had used it to describe how Caterina might feel, and now Jaya was using it to describe how Rahul felt. But she couldn’t think of all that now; there were other, more important matters to discuss. Caterina waited until a senior boy, Langdon, passed them before she spoke. “Has he told you the extent of the changes he’s made?”