Page 5 of Rivals
Marshall showed her around the rest of the facility: a machine room with strange-looking equipment, then down a narrow staircase into the barrel room, where a damp, vegetal scent hung heavy in the air. Sam nodded, only half listeningto his explanations, content simply to be near him after so long apart.
Finally they headed back to the house and collapsed onto a porch swing, rocking back and forth. Sam snuggled deeper into Marshall’s fleece, tugging the sleeves down over her wrists. It was warm, its shearling frayed on the inside, in the way that clothes are when they’ve been worn over and over for years.
“So, are you glad to finally be done with the royal tour?” Marshall asked.
Sam groaned. “You have no idea.”
The greatest challenge with the tour had been the sheer monotony. It was always the same, no matter what city they were in. Samantha would arrive to a welcome speech from the mayor, and then a child would run up the steps with a bouquet—which was color-coordinated with Sam’s outfit, thanks to the PR team’s relentless planning. After a high school band played the national anthem, she would head to a reception at town hall, where Sam was instructed to weave through the crowds along a counterclockwise route, one quarter turn every fifteen minutes. “It’s called ‘the circular hour,’ ” her aide had explained. “Your great-grandmother patented this move.”
Sam should have known what to expect from a royal tour. Her family had certainly done enough of them over the years. But those trips had been different, because her parents and Beatrice had shouldered most of the burden.
Back then, Sam had only been the spare.
Now she was the heir, taking her sister’s place on what should have been a newlywed tour, andJeffwas the spare. A spare who would be serving as Regent while Beatrice was away at the conference.
As always, Sam wondered how different her and Jeff’s lives would be if time had shifted by just four minutes—if herbrother had been born first. Thenhewould be the one on tour, and she would be in Washington, cutting ribbons or going to college or…
Honestly, she didn’t know. It was hard to imagine going back to her old “party princess” ways: dancing on tables, letting the media think she was spoiled and headstrong and undisciplined.
When she’d explained all of this, Marshall shook his head. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. Every time I saw a photo of you and Nina, it seemed like you guys were having fun.”
“We did, sometimes. But it’s a royal tour. It’s not meant to be fun.”
“You sound like Beatrice.”
“Is that so bad?”
The sun had set behind the hills, gilding the mist that hung over the vines so that they turned to gold, like some kind of temporary enchantment. If Sam had learned anything these past few months, it was that America had so much beauty in it, in its mountains and cities and everywhere in between.
Marshall reached an arm around her, tracing lazy circles over her shoulder. “Are you going to bring this up with Beatrice?”
“And make her regret asking for my help, the very first time I stood in for her?”
“That’s the problem,” Marshall insisted. “You were standing in forherinstead of standing up there as yourself. All that pomp and ceremony? This tour was designed for Beatrice, to play to her strengths, when it should have been adapted for yours.”
Sam pushed the porch swing back until the ropes creaked in protest. “And what are my strengths, exactly? Competitive sports and breaking the rules?”
“Your strength is connecting with people, Sam. Instead of asking you to stand there like a mannequin and listen tospeeches, the palace should have planned things foryou.Like being the guest commentator for a Little League game, or making a surprise appearance at a high school prom.”
“I wouldlovean excuse to rewear my old prom dress,” Sam said wistfully. “It had feathers on the hem.”
Marshall grinned. “Why am I not surprised.”
She reached up to catch the hand that he’d looped around her shoulder, lacing her fingers with his. “What was your prom like? Did you have a date?”
Sam and Jeff had gone to their prom alone, because Sam had insisted on it, forcing Jeff to meet up with Daphne at the dance rather than invite her to share their limo. She felt vaguely guilty about that, now that she and Daphne knew each other better. Daphne had been surprisingly helpful earlier this year, when Sam was struggling with her new role as heir.
“I didn’t go to prom, actually,” Marshall admitted.
“Really? I would’ve thought you were elected prom king.”
“That would require campaigning for votes, which requireseffort.I was too busy surfing and bending the rules to really care.”
“Of course, you’re just a simple surfer bro at heart,” Sam teased.
They leaned back, both increasingly aware of all the places their bodies were touching—Sam’s head dipping onto Marshall’s shoulder, the length of her leg pressed against his.
“I missed you this summer,” Sam blurted out, and swallowed. “I just…Marshall, I…”
