Majesty

“Of course I was jealous,” Himari agreed. “I’d be lying if I said it was buckets of fun playing the quiet sidekick while you became more and more famous. While the press kept gushing on about you, with your perfect face and perfect boyfriend and perfect life. Which no longer included me.”

“No, I mean—I thought you wanted to date Jefferson. That you were trying to break us up so you could swoop in and date him yourself.” Daphne’s words sounded clumsy even to herself.

Himari shrugged. “I went through a phase of crushing on him, sure. But that’s practically required of being a teenager in America. I never actually liked him, not romantically.” Her eyes cut to Daphne’s. “I’m still not convinced that you do, either.”

Daphne couldn’t afford to acknowledge that comment. “I’m sorry, Himari. For being a bad friend, and hurting you, and…”

“And sending me to Japan?”

Daphne let out a ragged breath. “Yeah. For sending you to Japan.”

“You never do things halfway,” Himari agreed, a note of grudging admiration in her voice. She looked down. “Still, we both know my parents wouldn’t have gotten this appointment without your…interference,” she said delicately. “And honestly, I don’t hate the idea of a fresh start.”

A fresh start. Daphne wouldn’t know what to do with that. For a fleeting instant, she let herself imagine what it would be like: if she wasn’t Daphne Deighton, future princess. If she was just…Daphne.

But she’d traded away so many pieces of herself, she didn’t really know what was left. She didn’t really know who she was anymore, underneath the bright, public self she showed the rest of the world.

“Truce?” she suggested, and Himari’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“You stick to your side of the Pacific, and I’ll stick to mine?”

Daphne nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“You know,” Himari mused, “the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of being friends with a princess. I’m sure there’s a favor or two I could call in.”

Daphne tried not to reveal how her heart had skipped at the word. “Are we still friends?”

Himari scoffed, as if it were self-evident. “What else could we be? Only friends know each other well enough to cause this kind of hurt. Only friends push each other past the breaking point.”

“I don’t think most people would agree with your theory of friendship.”

“So what?” Himari said easily. “You and I aren’t most people.”

The two of them stood there for a moment in a strange, weighted silence. The wind picked up, raking its fingers through the trees.

There was an unmistakable similarity between the two young women: a stubborn, steely quality that each of them had seen in the other. It was what had drawn them together, and also what had set them against each other, and, in the end, perhaps it made them more like sisters than friends.

Daphne wouldn’t know. She’d never had a sister, had never let anyone past her guard, except Himari.

And Ethan.

“I’m going to miss you,” Daphne heard herself say.

Himari held out her hand. “It’s settled, then. No more feuding.”

Daphne nodded and shook Himari’s hand, struck by the formality of the gesture, as if they were a pair of queens formalizing a state treaty.

Then, to Daphne’s utter shock, Himari pulled her closer, and threw her arms around her in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Himari murmured, so softly that Daphne almost didn’t hear it. As if Himari was reserving the right to deny she’d ever spoken the words.

“Me too.” Daphne blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. “I wish I could go back and do things differently.”

“It’s for the best. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

“This country isn’t.”

Himari softened, just a little. Then she stepped away, letting out a breath. “Well—I should get going. I have a lot of packing to do.”

“Goodbye, Himari,” Daphne ventured. “And good luck.”

As she watched Himari get into her car, Daphne knew she should feel satisfied, or at least relieved. Instead she felt oddly hollow.

Her greatest enemy, her best friend—whatever Himari was, she had defined Daphne. And now that she was gone, Daphne knew a piece of her would always be missing.

“Hey, Daphne.”

She looked up and saw that Himari had rolled down her window. “You know the Crown Prince of Japan is only two years older than us,” Himari went on, an eyebrow raised in unmistakable challenge.

“I’m aware.” The ache in Daphne’s chest seemed to loosen, just a little.

Himari tilted her head, that old mercurial smile playing around her lips. “So who knows? Maybe you won’t be the only one of us to marry a prince.”



“Thanks for walking me back.” Beatrice held open the door to her suite so that Teddy—who carried the stack of last-minute presents they’d been given at the rehearsal dinner—could follow her inside. As she moved, the antique mirror on her wall caught the swishing of her dress, which was hand-sewn with pearls to match the ones woven into her updo. When Beatrice nodded or shook her head, they gleamed against the silken darkness of her hair.

“You look so pretty tonight, Bee,” Teddy told her, and she smiled.

Pretty. Not majestic or elegant or any of the other things that Beatrice thought of herself, but just pretty. She knew it was ridiculous for something like that to matter, but it was still nice to hear. It made her feel almost like a real, ordinary girl—one who’d been to high school dances and stayed out past curfew and read magazines that didn’t have her picture on the cover. As if she and Teddy might be any couple at all, rather than the Queen of America and her future king consort.

She went over to lift the window, letting in the warm summer air as she glanced outside. Hundreds of people were already lining up in anticipation of tomorrow’s event. Ten miles of scaffolding had been erected along the parade route—after the ceremony, she and Teddy would drive through the streets in the golden state carriage before returning to the palace for the reception.

Beatrice looked down at the blurred sea of faces, many of them waving miniature American flags, or clutching flowers, or holding posters that said her and Teddy’s names. Her heart seized in her chest.

Perhaps alone in the modern world, this was a crowd of people who’d been drawn together out of something positive—not animosity, or anger, but love. For the country, and what it stood for. And for her.

She understood now what her dad had meant, when he’d told her that the symbolic aspects of her job were still the most crucial ones. America needed these moments of pure and uncomplicated joy, something outside the ugliness of political rivalries, to bring the nation together when so many things conspired to tear it apart.

Thunder rumbled through the capital. A low mass of clouds gathered in the distance, making the fluorescent glow of the city lights seem even brighter in contrast. The crowds squealed and began to retreat under cover.

Teddy moved toward her. “It looks like it might rain on our wedding day.”

Beatrice nodded; she felt the pressure gathering. The sky was swollen, the air thickening in anticipation of a coming storm. It felt like the entire world was holding its breath—waiting for something monumental, something big.

“People will say it’s bad luck,” she agreed.

“Do you think it’s bad luck?”

“I’ve never believed in luck. Or, rather, I believe in making your own luck. Besides,” she added, “now the souvenir shops can sell all those commemorative wedding umbrellas, the ones printed with our faces.”

“Oh good, do we have extras of those? I could use a new umbrella,” he joked, and she smiled.

Teddy turned toward the gifts, which he’d stacked on her upholstered blue sofa. “By the way,” he went on, grabbing a flat box wrapped in ivory paper, “I have something for you.”

Beatrice hadn’t realized that one of the gifts was from him. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Given that you bought me a house, I figured I should do something.” He said it lightly, but Beatrice heard the note of emotion beneath. She tore open the box, and her breath caught.

Inside was a pair of Minnie Mouse ears: the special bridal ones, covered in white sequins and affixed with a miniature veil.

Beatrice felt an aching pressure in her chest that pulled her somewhere between laughter and tears. She placed the ears on her head, not caring that they would ruin her updo. Compared to the tiaras she usually wore, they were curiously light.

Teddy reached to adjust them, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wish we could elope to Disney World, so you’d get the wedding of your five-year-old dreams, but I think a few people might be disappointed. So, since I couldn’t bring you to Disney World, this seemed like the next best thing.”

His hand was still cupped around her chin, tilting her face up. Moonlight traced the sweep of his eyelashes, caught the startling blue of his eyes.

“I’m so in love with you,” Beatrice blurted out.