Beatrice twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m not ready to be engaged.”

“I know this seems fast. But let me tell you from experience, you would be miserable as sovereign without a partner to help you face it. It’s such a lonely, isolating job.” Her father’s eyes glimmered. “Teddy will take good care of you.”

Beatrice wrapped her arms around her chest, trying not to think of Connor. “It all feels so …” Overwhelming, impossible, unfair. “It feels like a lot,” she finished.

Her father nodded. “I understand if this is too fast for you. But I’ve always dreamed of walking you down the aisle. I would love to do that, before I die,” he finished.

Those three words, before I die, seemed to echo plaintively around the room.

Those words were like the ruler Beatrice’s etiquette master used to snap across her knuckles, yanking her sharply back to reality. All the things she’d been dreaming this morning felt like just that: dreams. Foolish, impossible, hopeless dreams.

From now on, you are two people at once: Beatrice the girl, and Beatrice, heir to the Crown. When they want different things, the Crown must win. Always.

She thought of the task that lay ahead: of all the things she would have to embody and build and improve and unite. Of all the millions of people whose voices she was charged with representing. The colossal weight of that duty settled over her shoulders like a cloak sewn with stones, pressing her downward.

Beatrice’s spine instinctively stiffened, her shoulders squaring, bracing themselves beneath that weight. This might be a near-impossible burden, but it was her burden. The one she had been training for her entire life.

She could never be with Connor. She knew it, and so did he. Hadn’t they both said it that night in Montrose, before they flung themselves at each other?

“I love you, Beatrice,” her father told her. “Whatever you decide. And I’m so proud of you.”

Beatrice rubbed at her eyes, reached up to run her fingers through her hair, took another breath. Somehow she found the self-control to stand up.

“I love you too, Dad,” she told him. Enfolded in that sentence was her promise, her solemn vow—part of the same vow that she had made long ago, that had been sworn on her behalf the moment she was born. She saw that her dad understood, because his features visibly relaxed with relief.

She knew, now, what she had to do.

NINA

“I’m thinking of dropping Film Studies,” Rachel announced, reaching across the table to swipe one of Nina’s French fries.

They were in the freshman dining hall at King’s College. It was one of the older buildings on campus; the arched wooden ceiling rose high above them, and massive pendant lights hung over each table.

“Same,” agreed Logan, the guy who Rachel was on-again, off-again seeing. They must be on-again right now, from the way they’d been deliberately bumping elbows throughout the meal.

“Wait, why?” Nina asked. When Rachel tried to steal another fry, she slid the plate across the table in amusement.

The three of them had agreed to take Film Studies together: Rachel and Logan needed a fine arts credit, and as for Nina, she’d just thought it sounded interesting. Plus, it counted toward her departmental GPA. Perks of being an English major.

Logan shrugged. “Too much work. Who wants to attend film screenings every Thursday night?”

“You can still go out Fridays and Saturdays,” Nina reminded him.

“And Tuesdays and Wednesdays and Sundays,” Rachel added, only somewhat kidding. Nina had known her to go to parties on pretty much every day of the week. Honestly, she appreciated it; anytime she felt like doing something, she could count on Rachel to know what was going on.

Nina leaned back in her chair, stifling a yawn. She’d gone over to the palace last night to curl up in one of the media rooms and watch a movie with Jeff. After they’d gotten away with it in Telluride, it felt silly telling him that she couldn’t come over—though Nina still felt weird about sneaking around, trying to avoid Sam.

When the movie ended, Jeff had insisted on driving back in the car with her: “A normal boyfriend would take you home.”

“A normal boyfriend would walk me to my door,” Nina had countered.

Perhaps because it was so late, the campus quiet and deserted, Jeff had taken her words to heart. Ignoring his protection officer’s angry grunt of disapproval, he’d followed Nina out of the car and walked her to her dorm’s entrance, watching as she scanned her campus ID over the key-card reader.

“Let it never be said that I can’t act like a normal boyfriend. At least a fraction of the time,” he’d teased, and dropped a quick kiss on her mouth.

Nina smiled at the memory of his thoughtfulness, then started to push back her dining hall chair. “Either of you want froyo? I saw that the machine has salted caramel today.”

“Could you bring me some?” Rachel had her phone out and was scrolling idly through her newsfeed. “You still owe me, since you missed my New Year’s Eve party.”

“I was sick.” It was a flimsy lie, but Nina hadn’t come up with anything better.

She was getting tired of all the secrets that kept crowding into her life, multiplying and building on each other.

“Fine, fine, I’ll come with you,” Rachel started to stay—and froze. She was staring at something on her phone, her mouth open in shock.