Page 76 of Her Royal Highness
Flora waves a gloved hand. “Quint, this is ridiculous. Tamsin has nothing to do with us.”
“But she does,” I say, “because that was this... this thing we had in common. The thing that made it feel safe to like you.”
Flora looks as baffled as I’ve ever seen her, one hand on her hip, her head tilted to one side. “Safe? What does that even mean?” Sighing, I look up at the sky above us. It’s clear tonight and cold, stars twinkling in the inky black sky, Arthur’s Seat rising to my left, and I almost shake my head at all of it. Up here on the terrace at a palace with a princess under a starlit sky by an ancient volcano, like a fairy tale I never thought to imagine.
“I don’t want to be your distraction,” I say at last. “Ican’tbe that again. Someone fun to hang out with until the person you really want comes back.”
“Is this about Dastardly Jude?” Flora asks. She’s got her arms folded tightly around her middle, and I don’t think it’s from the cold. She’s so beautiful standing there in her golden dress, her diamonds and emeralds glittering, but just like the stars and the palace and the entire night, it’s a reminder of how different her life is from mine.
“Maybe?” I say. “And let’s get real here, Flora. The Tamsins and Carolines and Ilses of the world are much more your type,” I finally say. “I’m short, I say ‘y’all,’ I have no idea how anyone plays polo—”
Flora’s face is cold now, her shoulders back. “That’s what you think my type is, is it? You think I’m only interested in girls like Tamsin?”
“I think the princess and the scholarship kid looks good on paper, but is too hard in reality,” I reply, and Flora waves a hand again.
“You’re not even on scholarship anymore, for heaven’s sake, and honestly this is so—”
“Wait, what?”
I move closer to her, the night breeze tugging strands of hair from my updo. “What do you mean I’m not on scholarship anymore?”
Some of Flora’s coldness fades away, and she shifts her weight, her eyes sliding from mine. “I... may have paid your tuition for the rest of the year,” she says.
“You just... paid for school? And didn’t tell me? Didn’taskme?”
Her gaze meets mine again, lower lip poking out just a little. “Oh, yes, so very sorry to have done something nice for you. What a villain I am.”
But I shake my head. “No, Flora, that’s not the point, the point is you did it without asking if I wanted you to. I earned that scholarship. I worked hard for it. It was important to me, but you just saw it as... what? Something embarrassing? Something a little grubby.”
“Yes,” she says now, turning to face me. “That’s what you want to believe, isn’t it? That I couldn’t bear to date someone not of my class.”
Shaking her head, she backs off in a swirl of skirts and perfume. “Honestly, Quint, if that’s what you think about me, then I’m not sure why you ever liked me in the first place.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Somehow this has all gottenso twisted and out of hand so fast that I’m not even sure what to be mad about anymore. But Iammad. And hurt and confused.
Flora, however, is just mad. “Anyway,” she says on a sigh. “This entire scene is unnecessary and, frankly, boring. Why don’t we go back inside, and you can run off and hide in your room or something? I’ll have a car take you back to Gregorstoun in the morning.”
“Flora, can we—” I start, but she’s already moving for the doors, her skirts swishing over the stone, her tiara glittering.
Just like that, she’s gone, back into the palace. Back into her life.
And I’m left outside.
CHAPTER37
I wake up the next morning with gritty eyes and the beginnings of a massive headache. And that’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The idea of going downstairs for breakfast and sitting across the table from Flora makes me want to hide under the covers. What even happened last night? Were we fighting about Tamsin or about the scholarship?
But then I remind myself that if our first fight can go that badly, maybe it was never meant to be. Maybe it was always going to end like this.
I finally manage to get up, but when I make my way to the family’s private dining room, it’s empty except for a few of Seb’s friends, Daisy, and her boyfriend. The boys just glance at me as I walk in, but I see Daisy give me a sympathetic smile, and I wiggle my fingers at her before going over to the buffet and grabbing some breakfast.
Scottish breakfast isn’t exactly my favorite at the best of times, but right now, when I can’t imagine ever wanting to eat again, it’s especially unappetizing. Still, I put some mushrooms,a grilled tomato, and a slice of toast on my plate before heading to the table.
When I sit down, I see Daisy nudge Miles—well, kick him under the table, seems like—and he clears his throat with a “Right,” before leaning over and saying, “Millie, I’m so sorry about mentioning the story last night. I just assumed you knew, or didn’t care, or that... Well, all of us have gotten very used to seeing things about ourselves in the press, true or not, over the years, and I forget that’s not the case for everyone.”
“And you’re a prat,” Daisy helpfully supplies, to which Miles sighs, closing his eyes briefly before adding, “And also, I am a prat.”
Smiling in spite of myself, I poke at my mushrooms. “You’re not,” I tell him. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
