Page 101 of Reign
“I want to call a truce.”
Even backed into a corner, Gabriella held her ground; youhad to give her that. She put a hand on one hip as she asked, “Why on earth would I be interested in a truce?”
“Because I couldhelpyou!” Daphne lowered her tone. “I want to be done with this war between us. If I help, will you stop with the threats?”
“How would you help?” Gabriella asked warily.
“I’m marrying the heir to the throne tomorrow. I’m about to have a direct line to the royal family. The Washingtons can either make an off-the-record phone call to the Justice Department in your father’s favor, or…” She made the sort of airy, delicate gesture that Gabriella normally made. “Or we can do nothing. You’ll find that I’m a far better ally than enemy, Gabriella. Just promise not to tell anyone that—” She broke off before sayingthat Ethan and I hooked up.“Not to tell anyone my secret,” she finished.
Gabriella was staring at her with resentment, and something else that might have been surprise, or curiosity. Finally she gave a single nod. “You have a deal.”
Daphne held out her hand. “The war is over?”
Gabriella shook her hand with visible reluctance. “Your war withmeis over. But, Daphne…this is hardly the only war you’re going to fight.” She laughed, almost sadly. “If you think your wars will be over tomorrow, you’re more naïve than I expected. It won’t end with marriage. Even once you reach the peak, you will have to fight to remain there. You will always be at war with someone.”
Daphne wanted to protest, but she sensed that Gabriella’s awful, ominous words were true.
On her way back to the Grand Gallery, she typed out a quick text to Ethan.Come find me? We need to talk about Gabriella!She slipped back into her seat, ignoring her mother’s sharp stare, and lifted a glass of champagne to her lips.
When the gossip about the Madisons had finally died down, Jefferson caught Daphne’s eye, then made his way tothe microphone. It was common for the groom to give the closing remarks at a royal rehearsal dinner, since this was his only real chance to speak throughout the weekend. Royals could never do anything as nontraditional as compose their own vows.
“Thank you all for joining us tonight, and sorry for that disturbance. There never seems to be a lack of drama at my family’s weddings.” Somehow Jefferson managed to turn the Madisons’ scandal, and the atrocious way he’d spoken to Beatrice, into something that people laughed over. That had always been his gift: the ability to set people at ease.
“Daphne and I are lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful family and friends, who have showered us with love and support throughout our lives,” he went on. “Of course, the biggest thank-you goes to my beautiful bride.”
All eyes in the room turned to Daphne, and she smiled, never tearing her gaze from the prince.
“Daphne. I have loved you ever since that fateful day I saw you on the St.Ursula’s campus. You were sitting on a bench, readingCandide,and I will never forget the look on your face—how totally absorbed you were in the book,” he recalled. “You are so beautiful, but that has never been the most attractive thing about you; it’s the sheer force of your passion. You are intoxicatingly brilliant and stubborn and defiant and strong. Seeing you walk down the aisle tomorrow will be the happiest moment of my life….”
As he spoke, Daphne felt a spark of surprise—and, unexpectedly, relief. She had always worked so hard tohideher ruthless ambition that she hadn’t imagined Jefferson had ever seen it. But maybe he knew her better than she’d realized. Maybe their marriage wouldn’t be the endless performance she thought she’d signed on for.
A tiny voice within her whispered that something about the toast didn’t fit, but she ignored it.
“To Daphne,” Jefferson was saying.
Everyone obediently stood and lifted their glasses, the chorus of their voices echoing his words. “To Daphne.”
She stepped forward and kissed him, as they all expected her to. “That was a beautiful toast,” she murmured.
“It actually…” Jefferson paused, then shook his head. “Never mind. I’m glad you liked it.”
As they posed for the photographer, Daphne couldn’t help noticing that something wasn’t quite right about her fiancé’s expression, as if he was smiling a little too hard.
That was when she felt the touch of Ethan’s gaze on her.
It had always been like that: no matter how many people surrounded them, she would sense Ethan looking at her, and their eyes would meet. And for a moment Daphne would forget where she was—a high school campus, a crowded royal gala, her own rehearsal dinner—because the way Ethan was looking at her seemed to draw her into a separate place, a temporary room of his own creation.
As their eyes met, Daphne realized with sudden, bitter clarity what was wrong about Jefferson’s speech.
St.Ursula’s wasn’t where she and Jefferson had first spoken; it was where she andEthanhad.
Later, a knock sounded at her suite at the Monmouth Hotel. Daphne went to the door, expecting another delivery of flowers or perhaps a last-minute message from the event planners—and her heart skipped a beat.
“Ethan!” she hissed, tugging him quickly inside. “What are you doing here?”
He was still wearing his tuxedo from the rehearsal dinner, though he’d untied his bow tie the way Jefferson always did, letting it hang jauntily from beneath the corners of hiscollar. It made Daphne self-conscious about the fact that she was already in her pajamas, her hair falling in loose waves down her back.
“You sent a text that said, ‘Come find me,’ ” Ethan reminded her. “I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up.”
