Page 6 of Reign
“I don’t belong here,” Nina Gonzalez announced as she and her friend Jayne walked into the auditorium.
Ranged in the seats below were several dozen kids in skinny scarves and even skinnier jeans. They laughed easily, stretching their legs onto the seats in front of them, passing bags of gummy candy to one another.
Jayne snorted. “Same. No way am I actually doing this show. I just couldn’t handle the puppy-dog eyes Rachel would give me if I didn’t come.”
Rachel Greenbaum, their third roommate, was one of the student producers of this year’s winter play:A Midsummer Night’s Dream.She’d been hounding them about auditions for weeks, and would have considered it a personal betrayal if they didn’t at least show up.
“Nina! Jayne!” Rachel broke away from a few of the theater kids and hurried toward them. “Thank you guys for coming!”
“I’m really just here for moral support. I don’t expect to get a part,” Nina assured her.
Rachel met her gaze meaningfully. “With that attitude, you definitely won’t. Come on, Nina, weren’t you just saying that you want to shake things up?”
Nina had to admit that she could use a distraction. It still felt surreal that Beatrice, who’d been like an older sister toNina in so many ways, was on life support. Meanwhile Samantha, Beatrice’s younger sister and Nina’s best friend, had gonemissing.And that wasn’t even including the mess Nina had gotten into with Prince Jefferson, Samantha and Beatrice’s brother.
Earlier this fall, Nina and Jeff had tried to be friends—and only that. But Nina hadn’t been able to help it; she’d fallen back in love with Jeff. He’d said he wanted to give their relationship another try, only to end up with Daphne.Again.
“You’re right. I’m done thinking about Jeff, and I mean it this time.” Nina tried to smile. “Though it would be easier if I didn’t have to see his name every time I open a newspaper. Maybe I should move to England. Or Canada,” she added ruefully.
“Not a bad idea,” Rachel agreed. “Speaking of which—”
“Rachel!” one of the other producers called out, and Rachel sighed.
“I should get going. But good luck! I can’t wait to see your auditions!” she told them, before going to rejoin the others.
In spite of herself, Nina smiled as she began watching the auditions. She wasn’t usually excited about Shakespeare—she’d rather read a Jane Austen or Brontë novel—but she did have a soft spot forA Midsummer Night’s Dream.It was pure mischief, the characters tangling together in such hopeless ways and then finally untangling.
“Nina Gonzalez,” one of the directors called out. Nina headed onstage, accepting the typed papers he handed her.
She’d expected a declaration of love, if only because this play was full of them, but the text surprised her. It was Helena’s exhortation to Hermia when she discovers her best friend’s betrayal.
“Nina?” Rachel prompted, after a long silence.
Nina cleared her throat and began to speak. “ ‘Lo, she is one of this confederacy! / Now I perceive they have conjoined all three / To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. / Injurious Hermia!’ ”
There was a roar in Nina’s ears, or maybe it was just the roar of her words gaining momentum. Unexpected tears blurred her vision. Suddenly she wasn’t in the auditorium anymore; she was back in that hospital room, meeting Daphne Deighton’s gaze, realizing how much Daphne hated her.
Earlier this fall, she and Daphne had joined forces against Lady Gabriella Madison, a spoiled, self-centered aristocrat who’d set out to hurt them both. They’d started to thaw toward each other, had shared secrets and vulnerabilities. After a while, Nina was fool enough to think she and Daphne might be friends.
Nina didn’t have any other friends like Daphne: friends who understood where she came from. Samantha would move heaven and earth for Nina, but she’d still been born to the royal life, while Nina existed outside it. And as fantastic as her college friends were, they didn’t get it either. Daphne was the only one who knew what it was to live on the royal periphery. With Daphne, Nina had feltseen.
“ ‘Is all the counsel that we two have shared, / The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent, / When we have chid the hasty-footed time / For parting us—’ ”
Nina broke off, voice breaking, and closed her eyes for a moment. When she continued, her final words came out in a whisper.
“ ‘O, is all forgot? / All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?’ ”
Daphne had been playing Nina the entire time: the way she played Jeff, and the media, and everyone in her life. Their friendship had never been real. So why did its loss still hurt so much?
Nina blinked and took a dazed step toward the wings, muttering a thank-you, but the director’s voice halted her progress.
“Wait! You still have to do a partner read.”
Before she could refuse, a young man stepped out onto the stage. He moved with a self-important swagger, as if he really was wearing a Shakespearean doublet and jerkin, rather than a crew-neck shirt and skinny cashmere scarf. “ ‘O Helena!’ ” he proclaimed, launching right into their scene.
Nina felt, rather than saw, the auditorium erupt in feverish whispers at his arrival.
“ ‘O Helena,’ ” he repeated, “ ‘goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! / To what, my love, shall I compare thine eye?’ ”
