She knew that Ethan’s instincts about these things were usually right. But even if Nina and Jefferson were hooking up—which Daphne tried her best not to think about too closely—there was no way that Jefferson could be serious about a girl like that.
A bank of ominous clouds gathered in the distance. It would snow soon; Daphne could feel the landscape holding its breath in anticipation. Pines rose on either side of the path, their heavy branches dusted with white. A bird burst from the trees in a flurry of falling snow.
Daphne loved skiing—the pulse of blurred colors around her, the powerful, tensed sensation of carving turns into the side of the mountain. She loved the profound, hallowed silence, the only sound the hiss of the crisp powder as she sliced through it. When she was skiing, Daphne felt like she had control over everything in her life, over the entire world, even over gravity itself.
She was gaining on Jefferson. He had more mass than she did, but he was turning lazily, while Daphne flung herself forward like an arrow from a bow. She knew she’d long since left Ethan in her dust. Maybe he hadn’t even dared try this run at all. The thought was inordinately satisfying.
“That was incredible,” she exclaimed, after she had finally caught up with the prince. Her shins were sore from pressing against her boots, and her quads burned pleasantly.
“Seriously.” Jefferson’s smile echoed her own. He pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his damp hair. Even now, sweaty and breathing heavily, he looked tall, dark, and handsome, like a prince from a storybook.
Jefferson waited for Ethan to make his way toward them before nodding at the chairlift. “Should we head back up?”
“Absolutely.”
Grinning, Jefferson reached down to unfasten his back binding, then began to shuffle toward the entrance to the lift. Daphne curled her gloved hands around the grips of her poles and followed, still smiling her bright, perfect smile.
She would show Ethan just how wrong he was. She had already come this far; she would get Jefferson back, no matter the cost.
No matter what she had to do to poor Nina Gonzalez, to push her out of the way.
BEATRICE
The plane’s windows were frosted squares of darkness, but Beatrice kept staring out them anyway, because she couldn’t bear to glance across from her: where Connor sat, reading a hardcover book, ignoring her.
They had traveled like this, just the two of them on a small plane, so many times before. Beatrice secretly looked forward to those flights. It was one of the only opportunities she and Connor had to simply talk, for hours on end: about their families, or politics, or whatever bad movie they’d put on to pass the time, while they munched on bagged popcorn from the plane’s onboard snack drawer. If the pilots were curious about how unusually close the princess seemed with her bodyguard, they were too professional to ever say anything.
But it had been this way between her and Connor for weeks now, their usual camaraderie and easy conversation replaced by a strange, strained silence. Beatrice had no idea what he was thinking. His face revealed nothing as he accompanied her everywhere she went, to ribbon-cuttings and meetings with ministers. And on dates with Teddy.
Things had accelerated after her dad invited him to Telluride the night of the musical. They’d gone out several times since then, to parties and charity functions and once on a school visit.
Beatrice knew that America was infatuated with their relationship. Most of the press had started calling Teddy her boyfriend—and to her utter surprise, Teddy had picked up the term, and started referring to Beatrice as his girlfriend.
It seemed particularly strange given that they hadn’t even kissed.
Perhaps Teddy was waiting for some cue from her. That was fine with Beatrice; she had no desire to rush things. She hadn’t pushed Teddy to explain any further, but she still remembered what he’d said at the theater, that he was under obligations just as pressing as hers.
She wondered whether he was enjoying Telluride. Somehow she couldn’t muster up an ounce of regret that she’d stayed in town for the Maddux Center’s day of service, and would be arriving a day late. Her parents had done their best to talk her out of it, reminding her in a pointed tone that Teddy was going to Telluride as her guest. Well, Beatrice hadn’t been the one to invite him.
As she told her parents, she and her father would need to fly on separate planes anyway—the first in the line of succession could never travel with the reigning monarch, for security reasons—so what difference did it make if she stayed in the capital an extra day?
Secretly, Beatrice was relieved that she would arrive late, and save herself that extra day of forced intimacy with Teddy.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a violent swoop as the plane jolted through sudden turbulence.
“Your Royal Highness.” The pilot’s words emanated from the speakers. “Unfortunately, due to the weather, we won’t be able to land at Telluride Airport as planned. Air traffic control insists that we divert to Montrose Regional. I’m sorry—I told them who the passenger was,” he added apologetically. “But they were very firm.”
“I understand. Thank you.” Beatrice’s mind felt oddly numb. Montrose? It was at least two hours’ drive from Telluride.
The pilots must have been landing by instruments alone, because there was no visibility; their plane descended through a cloud of opaque white. Beatrice said a prayer of gratitude when they touched down smoothly on the runway.