Page 48 of Royals
I pick up the iPad and see the headline on theSun’s webpage.
“CRAZY FOR DAISY!” it screams, and there’s a blurry shot of me outside Seb’s club, his hand on my shoulder. Milesand Isabel are nowhere to be seen, and this really looks like...
“Okay, this is stupid,” I say, looking up at Ellie. She’s standing at the foot of my bed, jaw clenched, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Isabel was with Seb last night, and I went out to get her!”
Walking over to the bed, Ellie takes the iPad from me. “That’s not what the internet is saying,” she says, and she opens another page, then another, scrolling through a series of links.
“SEB AND DAISY!”
“PRINCE SEBASTIAN: CAUGHT AT LAST?”
“OOH-ER! A ROYAL NIGHT OUT!”
“PRINCESS DAISY?”
I almost want to laugh. It’s just... dumb. Seb and I had hardly even spoken last night. How can this one picture make people think we’re a thing?
I’m still shaking my head in amused disbelief when I look up at El.
That’s when I notice she’s downright pale, and genuinely upset.
Confused, I push my hair out of my eyes. “El, you know—” I start, but she just waves me off.
“AllIknow is that this is the top story on every news site in Scotland right now, maybe in the whole UK.” And then her eyes meet mine. “And the queen got here this morning.”
Well, now I’m not laughing. “The queen?” I nearly squeak.
Ellie nods and then, in a gesture I haven’t seen from her in years, nervously twists the bangle around her wrist. “She wants to see you.”
Chapter 24
“Don’t you think that’s a bit overkill?” Dad murmurs as we walk down the hall to the parlor where we’ll meet the queen.
Mom is on my other side, and she glances across me toward Dad. “Oh, Liam, stop,” she says, also nearly whispering. “She looks lovely.”
“She looks like something they’d sell in the gift shop,” Dad replies, and I frown as I look down at my tartan skirt. It was the most Scottish-y thing I had in my new, Glynnis-approved wardrobe, a plaid skirt in shades of bright red, black, purple, and green. I’d paired it with a sensible black blouse, black tights, and a pair of red ballet flats.
But yes, maybe the matching tartan vest was too much.
Or was it the hat?
Reaching up, I snatch the plaid tam-o’-shanter from my head and hand it to Mom, who shoves it in her handbag.
“I panicked, all right?” I hiss. “I avoided the dungeon over the thing at the race, but this? This could be dungeon material.”
“Daisy,” Mom chides in the same tone she usually uses for Dad, but Dad just pats my shoulder.
“We’ll come visit, love, I promise.”
Elbowing him in the ribs, I try to fight off an attack of the nervous giggles as Mom tuts and fiddles with one of her earrings.
The hallway we’re heading down is dim, little lamps with apricot-colored silk shades casting pools of light on the ancient carpet, and it’s in a part of the palace I haven’t visited yet. These are the queen’s personal quarters, and they’re softer, more feminine than the rest of the palace. She’s been queen since she was eighteen, and suddenly I wonder if she redecorated the whole place when she came to power. That’s what I would’ve done. Of course I wouldn’t have gone with all this peach and blue. I would’ve gone... purple, maybe. Neon green. To keep people on their toes.
Or maybe I’m focusing on interior design to keep from freaking the freak out.
The one thing I was determined to do this summer was keep my head down and stay out of Ellie’s... everything. And now I am just all up in a royal mess, and I didn’t even do anything fun, which is deeply unfair. IfI’dbeen the one fighting with Seb at his club? Fine, I’d take my lumps—I did the thing. But I was just being a good and loyal friend, and now I’m about to be—
“Oh god,” I mutter as we come to a stop in front of a pair of double doors. They’re heavy and covered in fancy scrollwork with thistles, unicorns, and giantBs everywhere.
