Page 29 of Reign
“What does Jeff have to do with it?” he asked, but she’d seen him flinch at the name. Nina felt both vindicated and saddened that her suspicions were right.
“I saw the tension between you two at the League of Kings conference. You obviously know he’s my ex-boyfriend—did you ask me out hoping someone might snap a photo and it would upset him? Because I have news for you: he’s engaged and doesn’t care what I do!” Nina’s voice had risen in volume; she lowered it self-consciously. “Is that why you tried out for the play, because you knew I’d be there?”
“How would I have known that?” Jamie asked, bewildered. “When we met at the League of Kings, I had no idea that you wereatKing’s College, let alone that you would turn up at a Shakespeare audition.”
“I’m not stupid, okay?” Nina felt dangerously, foolishly close to tears. “I used to date a prince, and now another prince appears out of nowhere and kisses me at a party, and I’m supposed to believe that those two things aren’t connected?”
“Youkissedme!”
“That’s not the point.”
Jamie ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re best friends with Sam, you go to palace events all the time, and you’re surprised that the guys who keep asking you out are princes? That seems pretty logical to me, Nina,” he observed. “How is an ordinary guy supposed to meet you when you’re on the royal circuit?”
“You’re telling me you justhappenedto ask me out, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Jeff?”
Jamie hesitated, and she made a disgusted noise.
“Stop!” he exclaimed, before she could storm off. “Okay, fine, Jeff might be the reason I knew who you were, but he has nothing to do with the connection between us! Come on, Nina, do you honestly think I’m using you as—what? Emotional sabotage?” He shook his head. “Who would even do something like that?”
Daphne would,Nina thought darkly. A small, sad part of her wondered if Daphne had ruined her—turned her into a mistrustful version of herself, one she didn’t recognize.
“I don’t know what to think,” she muttered.
Jamie sighed. “Maybe it just takes someone as confident as a prince to see how awesome you are.”
Nina’s heart beat erratically in her rib cage, scrambling her thoughts. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to melt into Jamie’s arms or kick him in the shins. It took all her self-preservation and willpower to do neither.
She wanted to believe Jamie; but even if he was telling the truth, and had no ulterior motives, what did it matter? She’d already been out with a prince once, and look how that had ended. What was it Blair said earlier?Nina, you seriously have a type.
The tabloids wouldn’t phrase it that nicely if they learned she’d been hanging out with Jamie. They would call her aprince chaser, a tiara tramp, a gold-digging, fame-obsessed commoner. No one liked a social climber, and they would paint Nina as the worst social climber of all.
She was almost to the door when Jamie’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Are you really not doing the play?”
Nina looked back at him over her shoulder. “I don’t think so.”
His next words chased her onto the street, echoing in her head long after she’d reached the comparative safety of her dorm room.
“That’s too bad, Nina. I hadn’t pegged you as a quitter.”
“Don’t worry, Daphne. Everything will be fine,” Jefferson promised, with a slightly nervous glance around the examination room. He kept looking at the anatomical posters on the walls, then awkwardly away again.
Don’t worry.What a useless thing to say. Daphne worried constantly. Worry was a strong motivator, the force that kept her aware of threats and dangers from all fronts.
“I know.” She shifted, crinkling the medical paper that the nurse had draped over her legs. She was still wearing her green silk top from this morning’s interview, her face caked with full TV makeup—her lips a little redder than normal, her foundation a few shades too dark.
“I’m sorry we had to rush and do the interview today.” Jefferson sighed. “This whole thing with Sam, and now Beatrice…”
“I’m just so relieved that she’s okay. It’s a miracle,” Daphne said quickly.
Jefferson had been back and forth from the hospital ever since his sister woke up. Daphne had only seen Beatrice for a few minutes, long enough for the queen to congratulate her on the upcoming wedding.
Thankfully, Beatrice’s recovery hadn’t stopped the engagement interview. If anything, it was further incentive for the palace to put out some good news, at least until they wereready to announce that the queen had woken up. Daphne couldn’t help wondering whether Beatrice was as fully recovered as she pretended to be.
She and Jefferson had done the interview live this morning, in one of the sitting rooms at Washington Palace. Dave Dunleavy, the friendliest of the reporters on the royal beat, had tossed them softball questions about Jefferson’s proposal—the official story, that he’d proposed months ago over a candlelit dinner at home, was far more romantic than the truth—and had cheerfully asked for details about the wedding planning. He made a point not to mention Daphne’s parents, or her commoner status, as if this was all happening in a romantic vacuum.
The only strange moment had occurred when Dave asked Jefferson,When did you know Miss Deighton was the one?
