Page 66 of Her Royal Highness
We eat the rest of our tiny feast happily enough, Flora regaling us with the tale of how she got all this food here in the first place.
“I don’t know how Glynnis managed to find someone whocould make this,” Flora added, picking up the spoon in the sweet potatoes and poking around at the dish, “but the woman is a superhero.”
And then Flora’s gaze shoots to me, her teeth dimpling her lower lip.
“Bollocks. Is that too big, too? Having a royal liaison track down food? I know you said the plane ticket was a lot—”
I reach over and touch her arm, shaking my head. “No, that was just... using available resources. It’s different from throwing money at something.”
Flora nearly preens at that, lifting her chin with a smug smile. “So I thought.”
Across the desk, I see Saks and Perry glance at each other, something passing between them, but I ignore it.
For now, things feel... homey. Nice.
Almost normal.
And then there’s a flash in the window.
Interesting (I guess, if you’re into that sort of thing) news to report out of Scotland today. Princess Flora has managed to keep her nose clean for the last six weeks or so, shocking everyone, I’m sure. Maybe that draconian school they sent her to is working? Or maybe it’s something else. Apparently there’s a mole up there in the Highlands, and not the fuzzy kind. A student has been leaking info on Flora to the press, and according to the source, Princess Flora has gotten very cosy with her new roommate, some girl from Texas named Amelia Quint. So cosy, in fact, that they are roommates no more, according to our source. A few weeks ago, the princess and her new pal were separated into different rooms. Could be they’re just friends, but the source seems to think they’re more. Anyway, here’s a blurry shot of the two of them eating... Thanksgiving? With some other people? Who the f*** knows.
Personally, I hope for Flora’s sake she is dating an American girl who might actually have sense, but then I wouldn’t wish Flora on my worst enemy, so it’s a real toss-up here.
(“Princess Flora Does Some Stuff, I Know You’ll All Click on It, I Need to Eat,” fromOff with Their Heads)
CHAPTER32
The photographer they fish out of the bushes is younger than I’d imagined most paparazzi to be. Maybe he’s new, which is why he made the rookie mistake of having his flash on.
Despite Dr. McKee telling all of us to clear the halls, it feels like the whole school gathers there in the foyer to watch her and Mr. McGregor talk to the local police, as the photographer sits in the back of a police car. I hear the word “trespassing,” and Mr. McGregor, red-faced and fairly bristling with anger, mentions “tarring and feathering” at least four times.
Next to me, Flora is very quiet and very still as she watches.
“They took the SD card from his camera,” I tell her. “And it’s not like he got anything all that exciting. Unless a bunch of teenagers eating yams would sell papers over here or something.”
But Flora shakes her head, long hair swishing against her shoulder blades. “He’ll have sent the pictures on already. He took them on his phone, not with the camera.”
She looks over at me. “That’s their trick. Show up with a big expensive camera, everyone assumes that’s what you’ve used, so no one thinks about the phone.” She turns back to stare out the massive front doors at the scene on the front lawn. “It’s rather ingenious of them, really.”
With that, she turns to head up the stairs, and I follow after her, grabbing her elbow.
“Go tell them that!” I say. “About the phone. Maybe he hasn’t sent—”
But Flora is already moving away. “That’s sweet, Quint, but I promise you, it’s a done deal.”
I watch her vanish up the stairs, and Sakshi comes to stand next to me, following my gaze.
“This is why her mother wanted her to have a security detail up here,” she tells me. “Flora sells more magazines than her brothers put together.”
“Even more than Seb?” I ask, and Sakshi nods before twirling a strand of her long dark hair and turning to face me. Well, to look down at me, what with her being an Amazon and all.
“Do you like her, Millie?” she asks.
Gah. My throat feels tight suddenly, my face probably bright red as I gesture vaguely. “Yeah. I mean, we’re definitely getting along better now, so—”
“No.” Sakshi’s hand comes down on mine, covering the back of it. “I mean... do youlikeher?”
Cutting her a look, I pull my hand back. “Isn’t this the kind of thing we should be asking in notes? The kind with boxes, check yes or no?”
