Page 25 of American Royals II: Majesty
Cornered and desperate, Daphne had slipped a couple of ground-up sleeping pills into Himari’s drink. She’d meant to scare her a little, convince her to let the whole thing go. Never in a million lifetimes had Daphne anticipated that her friend would climb a staircase in her dazed, disoriented state—only to fall right back down.
Daphne wished she could take it all back. The next morning, she’d almost marched down to the police station and confessed, just so she’d be able to talk about it with someone. As it was, there was only one person shecoulddiscuss it with, who knew the sordid truth of what she’d done. And that was Ethan.
All year, while Himari was in a coma, Daphne had kept on visiting her. Not because it made her look good—her usual motivation for doing things—but because she wanted to, desperately. Seeing Himari was the only way to stave off the guilt that threatened to consume her.
Daphne paused at the door marked with a laminated name card:HIMARI MARIKO. Gathering the frayed strands of her courage, she knocked. When she heard a muffled “Come in,” she pushed open the door.
And there was Himari, propped up against a pillow in her narrow hospital bed. Her cheekbones jutted out more sharply than before, and a tube still snaked under the blankets to clamp the skin of her forearm, but her bright brown eyes were open at last.
Time seemed to stretch and snap back over itself, like the cherry-flavored gum the two of them used to chew between classes at school.
“Himari. It’s so good to see you. Awake, I mean,” Daphne said clumsily. She held her breath: waiting for a string of invectives, for Himari to throw something at her, or maybe scream for a nurse.
Nothing happened.
“I would say that I’ve missed you, except I feel like I saw you last week.” Himari’s voice sounded lower than it used to, a little scratchy from months of disuse, but there was nothing cold or distant about it. She nodded at Daphne’s outfit and, unbelievably, smiled. “You look great, as usual. Are high-waisted jeans really back? Ineeda pair.”
For a moment Daphne just stood there in dazed shock. Himari was talking the way she used to: before Jefferson, and Daphne and Ethan’s secret, had come between them.
“Here, this is for you.” Daphne recovered enough to hold out the gift basket. She’d spent all of yesterday filling it with Himari’s favorite things: flowers and tea, the new fantasy novel by her favorite author, the macarons she loved from that bakery all the way in Georgetown. Himari reached for it and began sorting through its contents with her usual charming greed.
“Let me help,” Daphne offered as Himari pressed her face into the flowers and inhaled. There was an empty vase on a table; she carried it to the bathroom and filled it with water before arranging the bouquet inside.
The hospital room felt different from all the times Daphne had visited. Now its sterile surfaces were cluttered with personal items, stuffed animals and foil balloons on sticks and a stack of magazines. Daphne smiled when she saw that Himari was drinking water out of the cartoon-printed thermos she used to sip her morning green juice from. The room evensoundedbetter, the medical equipment emitting a cheerful erratic beep, rather than the soulless refrain of someone unconscious.
Daphne set the flowers on a nearby table, then pulled a chair forward.
“What are you doing?” Himari scooted over, creating space on the bed. “Head wounds aren’t contagious, I promise.”
Daphne couldn’t see an easy way out. She climbed up next to her friend, the way she used to back when they would hang out in Himari’s room, trading stories and secrets and laughing until their chests hurt.
“My nurses said you visited every week,” Himari went on. “Thanks for doing that. You’re such a loyal friend.”
Did those last two words have a sarcastic bite? Daphne couldn’t really tell. It was still so surreal, hearing Himari speak at all.
“We were all worried about you, Himari. That fall…”
“Did you see it?”
“I—what?”
“Did you see me fall?”
The air seemed to drain from the room. Daphne looked over, meeting her friend’s gaze. “I was at the party, but no. I didn’t see you fall.”
Himari tugged absently at her sheets. “The doctors said there was a low dosage of narcotics in my system. As if I’d mixed vodka and NyQuil, or something.”
“Really?” Daphne replied, with admirable calm. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I don’t get it either,” Himari insisted. “And what was I going upstairs for?”
Was this a trap, or did Himari truly not know? Daphne didn’t dare answer with the truth. She decided her only option was to answer a question with a question.
“You don’t remember?”
Some of the tension seemed to drain from Himari’s body. “No. It’s so bizarre. I remember everything else: god, I remember the name and title of every last person at court. But the days leading up to the accident are a complete blank.”
A complete blank.Relief swept through Daphne. If Himari didn’t remember, it would be like none of it had ever happened: Daphne sleeping with Ethan, the blackmail, the night of the fall.
