Page 92 of Reign
Thursday, the thirty-first of December, at two in the afternoon
This was certainly an invitation she had never expected to get.
“Look at how different ours look,” she mused. The calligrapher had been forced to tighten the rows of text on Jamie’s, since it was addressed toHis Royal Highness James Charles Alexander Douglas, Prince of Canada. And there were subtle differences in the shape of the letters—the loop of they,the curlicue at the end ofHighness.
“It just feels excessive,” she went on. “Why can’t they print the invitations and just hand-address the envelopes like normal people?”
Jamie looped his tie into a knot with fluid ease, not even looking in the mirror. “Haven’t you learned by now that royals spend money on completely useless and archaic things?”
“I still can’t believe Daphne sent me my own invitation.” Nina had already recounted the story of their department store run-in to Jamie, who’d been as surprised as she was.
“Maybe it’s a peace offering?” Jamie guessed.
She met his gaze in the mirror and couldn’t help observing, “You look different without your glasses. Have you been wearing them at school so that people don’t recognize you?”Like Sam and her drastic haircut,Nina thought.
“I wear my glasses at school because I hate contacts, especially when I’m staring at a projector screen. They make my eyes feel itchy and dry.”
“I like you better in glasses,” Nina decided. “They make you look…”
“Devastatingly brilliant? Artistic? Thoughtful?”
“I was going to say they make you look likeyou.”
He grinned. “Maybe that’s why I wear them at school, Nina. Because I knew you had a thing for nerds.”
Nina wasn’t sure how things between her and Jamie had escalated so quickly. It was all the hours they had spent in rehearsals together, and the flashes of vulnerability she sawbeneath his cheerful exterior, and the fact that he’d come out for pasta with Nina’s parents after the final performance and won them over. Nina could tell her mamá didn’t like the thought of her daughter dating another prince, but by the end of the meal, even she had caved.
As they’d said goodbye, her mamá had pulled Nina in for a hug and whispered into her ear, “I get it, Nina. He’s…well, he’s easy to like.”
“Should we head out?” Jamie asked, and Nina groaned.
“Isn’t it enough that we’re going to the wedding tomorrow? Do we really have to be at the rehearsal dinner, too?” She’d been shocked when she realized that their invitations both included cards for tonight’s event as well.
“Sure, we don’t have to go.” Jamie flopped back onto his bed and laced his arms behind his head, the pose utterly incongruous with his expensive navy suit. “I would much rather stay in with you.”
Nina’s phone vibrated on the bedspread next to her. Her eyes drifted to the screen, and she let out a gasp as she saw the subject line of her new email. “Oh my god!”
Congratulations on your admission to the King’s College Oxford Exchange Program
“I got in!” she squealed, showing him the phone. “I got in!”
Jamie grabbed her around the waist and yanked her down next to him, making her dissolve into laughter. “Jamie!” she exclaimed, knowing she was wrinkling her dress but not really caring.
She shifted so that her back was pressed to his torso. The expensive wool of his red-and-gray blanket felt warm and a little scratchy beneath her cheek. It surprised her, how instinctively their bodies melded together these days. Nina wasn’t ready to go all that far, but Jamie didn’t seem to mind,and she was growing more and more at ease here, in the safe circle of his arms.
She’d spent a lot of time in princes’ beds for a girl who hadn’t actually slept with either prince.
“Congratulations, Nina. You deserve this.”
“Thank you.” She forced herself to sit up and glanced in the mirror, making a halfhearted effort to fix her hair. “We should get going.”
“Your ex-boyfriend’s rehearsal dinner, the perfect way to celebrate your success,” he agreed, which made Nina laugh. But at least Sam would be there, and she could share the news in person.
It took three times as long as normal to drive the mile and a half to the palace. The city had devolved into a giant street party; behind the ropes blocking off the parade route, people sat by the thousands, some with tents or sleeping bags. They huddled into parkas to stay warm, passing around flasks of hot chocolate or liquor. Nina saw picnic baskets, bottles of champagne, silly hats, and countless American flags. Earlier this evening, the guns of the Royal Horse Artillery had fired a salute into the sunset, though the real show—the parade, the wedding, the evening fireworks—was tomorrow.
After three separate security checks, their car finally crawled into the circle drive. Nina sucked in a breath, then stepped onto the marble steps with a smile. Jamie reached for her hand, and she let him—knowing people would see, knowing she had taken the plunge.
Tonight’s event wasn’t in the ballroom upstairs, but the Grand Gallery on the first floor. “The ballroom is for state occasions only,” Nina explained, when Jamie asked. “This is an intimate party among close family and friends.”Intimateby Washington standards meant anything under a hundred and fifty people.
