Majesty

“FIND A HAT is easy. You just wear some object as if it’s a hat,” explained their other friend Leila Taghdisi. Nina obediently folded a paper napkin into a triangle before setting it on her head.

“And for CELL BLOCK TANGO, you have to leave your phone out for the rest of the game so we can all read your texts.” Leila shot Nina an apologetic glance. Her friends knew how private Nina was about her personal life—and her relationship with the royal family.

But Nina had resolved that this semester she would be normal. So, like any normal college student, she pulled out her phone and set it on the table.

Rachel sighed. “I can’t believe our first day of spring quarter is on Monday. I’m nowhere near ready for the start of classes.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of glad to be back.” Nina was actually excited about school again, now that she could walk around campus without being tailed by paparazzi. She still garnered a whisper here or there—still occasionally saw her fellow students looking at her for a beat too long, their brows furrowed in confusion, as if they thought they’d met her but couldn’t remember where.

But it was a massive improvement over the nightmare she’d been living earlier this year, when she was dating Prince Jefferson.

People had remarkably short memories for this sort of thing. And after the earth-shattering, world-altering news of the king’s death, Nina’s brief relationship with Jeff was the last thing on anyone’s mind. The world had clearly forgotten her and moved on, to Nina’s immense relief.

“Not me. I never wanted to leave Virginia Beach,” Leila chimed in. “If we were still there, we’d be out on the sand right now, watching the sunset and eating Nina’s addictive guacamole.”

“It’s my mamá’s recipe. The secret is in the garlic,” Nina explained.

She was so grateful that Rachel had dragged her on that trip. It was nothing like the vacations Nina had gone on as a guest of the Washingtons: the rental house had been run-down, with no air-conditioning, and she’d had to sleep on a sofa in the living room. Yet she’d loved it. Sitting there with the other girls on her hall, drinking cheap beer and telling stories over a beach bonfire, had felt infinitely more satisfying than all the five-star royal travel.

“Sadly, I can’t offer you guacamole.” Jayne, another of their friends, emerged from the café’s kitchen, balancing a tray in her oven mitts. “But these might help.”

The three girls immediately tore into the cookies. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you work here?” Nina asked.

“Instead of at the library with you?” Jayne and Nina were part of the same work-study program, which required them to get jobs on campus in exchange for the funding of their scholarships.

“Your baking talents would be wasted at the library. These are delicious,” Nina replied through a mouthful of cookie. Her mamá would have scolded her for talking with her mouth full, but she wasn’t at home right now—or at a stuffy royal reception, either.

Jayne set the cookies on the counter before pulling up a chair. She didn’t bother taking off her school-issued apron, which was printed with the mascot of King’s College: a knight in a shining silver helmet. “That’s me, the gourmet chef of slice-and-bake.”

Nina’s phone, still at the center of the table, flashed with a new text. Rachel eagerly snatched at it, then slid the phone over. “So far, your texts are boring.”

It was Nina’s mom. Are you coming over for dinner sometime soon? I’ll make paella!

Nina’s parents, Julie and Isabella, lived in a redbrick townhome a few miles away. It was a grace-and-favor house: a property that belonged to the royal family and was leased rent-free to those who served them—in this case, Nina’s mamá Isabella, who had once worked as the late king’s chamberlain and was now Minister of the Treasury. Nina tried not to be bothered by the fact that Sam’s family, Jeff’s family, owned the house she’d grown up in.

In the aftermath of her breakup with Jeff, Nina had spent a lot of time at home. It was just so comforting, eating her parents’ cooking and sleeping in her childhood bed. Avoiding the curious glances of her college classmates.

But she had more friends now, had carved out a place for herself. She no longer felt a desperate need to escape.

Thanks, Mom, but I’ll stay on campus for now, she typed in reply. Love you!

Rachel crumbled the remains of her cookie over a napkin. “Next time we should sneak in a bottle of wine, make this a drinking game.”

“You know I can’t drink on the job,” Jayne protested.

“You can’t get caught drinking on the job. There’s a difference,” Rachel said cheekily, and everyone laughed.

They kept on playing, the Jenga tower growing increasingly, dangerously high. Rachel knocked over a tile labeled FOREIGN AUDITION, which apparently meant that for the rest of the game, she needed to speak in an accent. Undeterred, she launched into a story about a guy she’d recently met, her accent veering wildly between Eastern European and French.

Nina stretched her arms overhead. She felt tired, but in a lazy, contented way.

“Anyway, he just texted to ask me out,” Rachel was saying.

“Accent!” Jayne scolded.

“My apologies,” Rachel corrected, in the most atrocious Cockney voice Nina had ever heard. “So, do you guys think I should say yes?”

She held out her phone, its plastic case covered in cartoon pineapples. The other girls obediently leaned forward to study the profile picture: an artsy black-and-white shot of a guy whose lip was pierced in at least six places.

“He seems pretty different from Logan,” Nina ventured, naming Rachel’s ex-boyfriend.

“Exactly!” Rachel had dropped the accent, but this time no one admonished her. “Different is what I’m looking for right now. You should know the feeling, after what happened with you and Jeff.”

Nina stiffened, though some reluctant part of her acknowledged the truth in Rachel’s words.

She’d met the royal twins over a decade ago, when her mamá began working as the king’s chamberlain. She and Princess Samantha had been best friends ever since, as close as sisters.

Then, last year, Nina had started secretly dating Sam’s brother. It had worked so well when it was just the two of them—but once the rest of the world found out, she’d become the target of nationwide abuse.

That was the thing about royalty: it was as polarizing as a magnet. For years Nina had watched people pass judgment on Sam without even knowing her, instantly deciding that they either hated or adored her, that they wanted nothing to do with her, or that they would use her for their own ends.

Once Nina dated Jeff, the same thing had happened to her.

She’d tried to ignore the ugly online comments and paparazzi’s catcalls. She’d told herself that she could handle it all, that Jeff was worth it. Until his ex-girlfriend Daphne had confronted her, revealing that she had orchestrated the abuse: she’d planted a photographer outside Nina’s dorm room and sold their relationship to the tabloids.

When Nina tried to talk to Jeff about it, he’d taken Daphne’s side.

She’d seen him only once since the breakup, from across the room at his father’s funeral. Then the Washingtons had left for Sulgrave, and Nina had finished out her winter quarter and gone to Virginia Beach, trying valiantly to wipe Jeff from her memory. Though it was pretty hard to forget your ex-boyfriend when he was your best friend’s brother—and the most famous man in the country.

“I’m sorry, Nina,” Rachel went on. “But we both need to branch out from that frat-boy crowd. Just think of all the types of guys we haven’t even begun to explore! Musicians, upperclassmen…” She cast a pleading glance at the other girls, who hurried to chime in.

“Those cute TAs who bike here from the grad quad,” Leila offered.

“Or artistic writer guys,” Jayne exclaimed. “Like the ones you’ll meet in your journalism class!”

“I’m not taking journalism so that I can meet guys,” Nina reminded them.

“Of course not,” Rachel said easily. “You’re taking journalism so that I can meet guys.”

Nina snorted. “Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll try to branch out, whatever that means.”

“I’m just saying you should put yourself back out there, go to a party with us every now and then. Come on, Nina,” Rachel pleaded. “Your new look is too good to be wasted on the library.”

Nina brushed her fingers through the ends of her newly short hair, which now fell to just above her shoulders. Her head felt curiously light without the weight of all those tresses. She’d done it on impulse after the breakup: she had needed, desperately, to change something, and this was as drastic a change as she could make short of getting another tattoo.

Now when Nina looked in the mirror, she found a new and startling version of herself. The bones of her face had become more prominent, her brown eyes gleaming brighter than before. She looked older, stronger.