Page 77 of Her Royal Highness
“It seems slightly biggish,” Daisy says, “because we heard you’re leaving this morning?”
“It isn’t about that,” I say, which is technically the truth. “It’s just...” I eat a mushroom to avoid talking for a second. “Not for me,” I finally say, waving my fork around. “This whole thing. Leaving it to the professionals.”
Daisy opens her mouth to say something to that, but now it’s Miles’s turn to kick her under the table, and glaring at him, she rubs her shin.
I shove some more toast in my mouth and make apologetic sounds before basically bolting from the dining room.
When I get back to the bedroom I was staying in, I see my things have already been packed. The royals are clearly very efficient at booting you out once your time is up.
This time, there’s no help with my bag, no one at all in factuntil I step out the back door and see Glynnis waiting for me.
“There you are,” she says. “The car just pulled up.”
Sure enough, there’s a black car idling in the drive.
“When will Flora be leaving?” I ask, but Glynnis only gives me that tight smile, her lips crimson.
“Her Royal Highness will be returning to school here in Edinburgh. With the wedding coming up, it’s really best to have her closer to home now.”
The morning is cold and gray, and there’s a mizzle falling that suits my mood as I stand there in the portico, waiting for the car to come around. If I had known that last night might be the last time I’d get to talk to Flora...
The thought makes my throat go tight, but the last thing I want to do is start crying in front of Glynnis. I have a long trip back to the Highlands during which I can fully indulge in self-pity, after all.
To my surprise, Glynnis lays a manicured hand on my sleeve. “I’m sorry to see you go, Amelia,” she says, and weirdly enough, I think she might mean it. “I thought you might be a more permanent fixture.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just give an awkward shrug, trying to smile. “Not exactly cut out for the royal thing,” I tell her, but Glynnis only gives me a little pat, her smile turning just the slightest bit sad.
“Well, off you pop, then,” she says, gesturing to the car, and I shift my bag to my other shoulder, nodding. Off I pop indeed.
Back to Gregorstoun. Back to normalcy. Well, as normal as that place gets, I guess.
The car smells like expensive leather plus the faint burning scent of the heater on blast, and I’m already tugging off my scarf as I settle into the back seat when a movement catches my eye.
There are big windows looking out on this private drive from the second story, and I see Flora in one now, still wearing her robe, her hair loose and messy around her shoulders. Her face is a pale oval against the thick glass, but I’d know her anywhere, I’m pretty sure.
It’s so weird to look at her and know that I might never see her again—almost certainly won’t see her again—except in magazines or on TV sometimes. But isn’t that for the best? She was never really mine, and this whole thing was like a dream I stumbled into. A fairy tale where she was the princess in the tower and I was... Okay, I wasn’t the frog, exactly, but close enough. And one day, Flora will find her princess, too.
It just won’t be me.
Another flash of red from her robe, and she’s gone.
The train back up to the school is nowhere near as nice as the ride down was. This time, I’m in a regular carriage, sitting next to a stranger, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t spend most of the ride looking up stories about Flora on my phone.
I’m quickly realizing this is going to be the worst part of things—with Jude, I just had to deal with her at school and on Facebook. With Flora? I’ll have a lifetime of being able to pull up multiple pictures of a Girl I Used to Like.
Once the train gets to Inverness, I call the school to send Mr. McGregor to pick me up and bring me back to Gregorstoun.
I’m expecting another story about Killer Trout, or the McGregor Legacy, Cruelly Stolen, but all Mr. McGregor says as Iclimb into the car is “Chin up, lassie,” which nearly makes me cry all over again.
It’s raining now, and the school that once looked so beautiful and special to me just looks dismal as we pull up.
Once I’m inside, I make a beeline for Sakshi’s room. The door is cracked, so I don’t knock—I just push it open and call, “Hey, I’m back—”
Only to be confronted with the sight of Sakshi and Perry entwined on her bed, kissing.
I squawk, andtheysquawk, flying apart—both of them fully and completely dressed, thank god—and scrambling off the bed.
“Millie!” Saks cries. “We were just... Perry and I are—”
