Chapter 9

9

SPOTTED: REBEL ROYAL AND CROWN PRINCESS DO LA IN STYLE!

While their father, King Simon, is attending a climate conference in Norway, Crown Princess Annika and Prince Jadon were seen Saturday morning in Santa Monica's famed Third Street Promenade complex. Exclusive photos show the royal siblings, flanked by heavy security, emerging from Hugo Boss with multiple bags in hand. The fabulously dressed duo (see our coverage of HRH Princess Annika's best outfits!) also visited Nordstrom and Nike.

Later, HRH Prince Jadon was photo'd at Trader Joe's with his personal bodyguard. He left with an overflowing grocery cart. How long is this new, low-key royal planning to stay in America and avoid his problems back home?

I'm fine. Pacing around in the same circle for thirty minutes is fine. Repeatedly checking my phone, anticipating a cancellation text—because who would want to hang out with me on a Friday night?—is fine.

It's only a movie night. With a boy who's also not just a boy .

I pause long enough to check my reflection in the living room mirror. Slim-fit chinos rolled at the ankles. White V-neck T-shirt giving intentional glimpses of collarbone. Dewy skin from a recent face mask. Curls that still look natural despite my constant touching.

I look casual. Calm. Not the expression of someone panicking.

"You're panicking," Annika comments when she sweeps in wearing a Badgley Mischka wrap dress under an emerald blazer. She pauses behind me to fix her earrings. "It's cute. Very first date vibes."

"It's not a date," I correct her. "It's a group thing. With people I go to school with."

" Friends ," she insists. "It's okay to use that word."

Is it?

One, I've never met Lo. Two, outside of rehearsals, Karan and I haven't had conversations. Three, Reiss and I are…I don't know. Does what we've done—talk at a party, his family's coffee shop, in a smelly locker room—count as a friendship? Is that enough?

When I'm quiet for too long, Annika raises inquisitive eyebrows. I lean into my favorite rule of being a royal: deflect, always .

"I want everything to be right," I say.

Organizing a get-together is new for me. It's a job usually handled by the palace chamberlains. Or Samuel, since we've been here. Even ordering the food was a tremendous effort. Another reason I long for the comforts of home.

Annika smiles in mock sympathy. "Poor Jade. Do you want to google ‘how to make friends' together?"

I stick my tongue out at her just as Luc strides into the room. He's in an all-black suit. "Don't worry, Your Highness," he says. "The princess isn't good at social activities either. She almost broke out in hives making a dinner reservation."

"It was an allergic reaction to cheap sunscreen," Annika argues.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Luc smirks. Something indescribable sparks behind Annika's eyes. "Nerves are good," she tells me. "It means you like Re—"

"Aren't you going to be late?" I cut in.

She's attending A Night at the Orchestra with Romeo + Juliet , a music exploration of the Baz Luhrmann film. It's at the Los Angeles Philharmonic. My sister, the cultured one.

"He's right," Luc announces after confirming with the security team over the phone. "Traffic is already disgusting."

I smile. "Everyone must've heard the future queen is coming."

Annika smacks my shoulder. "Remember: no fires. Wait thirty minutes after eating before swimming. No escorting cute, pink-haired boys up to your bedroom—"

"Bye, Your Majesty!" I shout.

Annika's loud cackling echoes through the house long after she's gone.

When the doorbell rings, I'm too anxious to answer.

Samuel greets everyone with a polished smile. And a ready-to-sign NDA on his tablet. "For discretionary purposes," he says smoothly.

I want to die.

Thankfully, he was open to my Friday night plans. Though, I received a subtle amount of side-eye when I avoided his question about the progress of my speech for the Sunset Ball.

By his side, Ajani collects everyone's phones. Who starts off a movie night like this?

To their credit, no one balks or turns around to leave.

Instead, Karan whistles in the foyer. "Eff my parents' bank account. Dope crib, Jadon!"

"Welcome to my house," I announce, my voice way too loud. "Er, not my house . I don't own it. My family does have several vacation homes across the world. And the palace is much bigger—"

I cut off my rambling, skin prickling with embarrassment.

Karan laughs. "Jadon, meet Lo Jiménez."

Lo steps forward, wearing ripped black jeans and a shirt that reads, They/Them Your Pronouns . Their hair is dark green, almost black, cut in an asymmetrical bob. Sparkling gunmetal nail polish contrasts nicely with their pale beige skin.

"The best slice of our epic trio," Karan adds.

Lo smirks like they know something about me even I don't yet. "Nice to meet you."

They step aside, and I finally have a clear view of Reiss.

Pure-white low-top Nikes that match his shorts. A navy crewneck sweatshirt, the sleeves tugged over his knuckles. Bedhead pink hair. So perfectly effortless, I can't take it.

He flashes that crooked grin. "What's up, HRA?"

I smile back.

"HRA?" Karan stage-whispers to Lo. "What's that?"

"His Royal—" Reiss starts.

Karan snaps his fingers. "His Royal Aristocrat!"

Lo shakes their head, hair swishing across round cheeks. "His Royal Attractiveness."

Reiss's face goes absurdly pink. "What? No. It's His Royal Arro—"

"I like His Royal Attractiveness," I insert, smirking. "Don't you?"

His skin turns a shade darker. He holds up two white bags with the distinct red-and-yellow In-N-Out logo on them. "We brought food," he deadpans, avoiding my question.

"Oh." I glance over my shoulder. "I ordered…things."

They follow my gaze to the kitchen. On the island is a massive spread of food I had delivered from all the best-reviewed restaurants nearby. Plus, sodas and cans of the bubbly water brand I've seen everyone at school drinking.

"I wanted to bake a peach galette too," I say, frowning, "but Trader Joe's only carried jarred slices. Nothing fresh."

Reiss cocks his head. "So, you're kind of an actor, a great swimmer, and you bake? What aren't you perfect at?"

I arch an eyebrow. "Nothing."

He chews on his lower lip, inhaling. I don't look away.

Not until Karan says, "Sorry, Animal Style fries, but you've got nothing on Pearl Dragon's crispy veggie spring rolls!"

He steps around us into the kitchen. Lo silently follows. I linger with Reiss. His face is unreadable. But his eyes skim over me.

"Should we," he tries after another deep breath, "start the movie?"

I offer him one last teasing grin. "This way."

Inside the state-of-the-art cinema, Lo and Karan conveniently claim the reclining chairs on the ends of the row. Which leaves the plush love seat in the middle for Reiss and me.

"Which movie did you pick?" I ask as Karan dims the lights.

" Clue ," Lo says with very little enthusiasm.

"An '80s classic," Karan explains. "Plus, it's bonus prep work."

"I'm only watching for costume ideas," Lo mentions.

I half-turn to Reiss. "You're okay with this?"

He's not in the play. And he's a movie enthusiast. I'm sure there are dozens of other films he'd prefer to watch.

But his eyes light up in the dark. "Are you joking? It's a cult classic. They don't make comedies like this anymore."

"Okay." I wiggle around until I'm comfortable. My knee brushes Reiss. He doesn't flinch away. Instead, he presses back, and a smile curls my lips. "Let's watch."

He's right. The movie is hilarious. I can't stop laughing into my food. Snorting at someone falling over or screaming. Every character catches my eye, even Yvette, despite her questionable French accent.

"They filmed at a mansion in Pasadena," Reiss narrates.

He does this every few minutes. Offers little anecdotes. Excitedly drops information about the director's shot choices. Describes how scenes come together. In the wash of blues and whites from the screen, his face glows like lightning, eyes crinkled, mouth stretched into a nerdy grin.

It's hard to look away.

"Ooh! And that ." He points again. "All the secret passages connect to rooms exactly like in the board game. The attention to detail is—"

"Some of us," Karan says loudly, leaning forward, "didn't ask for the director's commentary version."

Reiss shrinks, cheeks flushed.

Lo giggles. "You know how bad he geeks out about this shit."

"I'm doing character study here," Karan grumbles, eyes forward like there's going to be a quiz after the credits roll.

I nudge Reiss's shoulder, voice low as I say, "What else?"

The flutter in my stomach when his crooked grin returns is intolerable.

"Well…" To avoid Karan's wrath, he scoots closer. Warm breath against my ear. "See their clothes? They're purposely wearing outfits that don't match their names."

It takes everything not to shiver. Since when has talking about wardrobe been so…attractive?

I clear my throat. "That's…interesting."

It's nice. His unguarded expression. His shoulder pressed to mine in the dark. The way we both laugh when Karan tosses nachos at us. Reiss's hands in constant motion as he talks, an anxious tic I've picked up on.

I can't help myself. The dopamine high is too strong. While he's going on about another one of the film's nuances, I reach out. Grab his hand. He stops midwhisper.

Panic freezes my muscles. Did I read this wrong? Was I too impulsive, like always, or should I have asked before—

He fits his fingers between mine. Squeezes gently with a timid smile.

I let out a soft breath.

We stay like that until the lights come up.

"So," I say, "I'm playing a queer-baiting character?"

"Wrong," Lo answers. "He didn't identify. Just because he has a wife doesn't mean he's not bi."

"Or pan." Karan munches on a spring roll. "Like me."

I scan the room. "Are all of you…?"

"Queer?" Lo volunteers. "Fuck yeah. Is there any other way to be?"

A laugh tickles my throat.

"I'm demi, BTW," Lo puts in.

Reiss's gaze darts to where our hands were five minutes ago, tucked between our hips, fingers tangled. "Very, very gay," he manages.

Karan leans sideways. "Wait, there aren't any queer kids in Réverie?"

I fight off a frown. I'm not sure. There could've been some at my old school, but it wasn't visible. We had very strict uniform policies. It's not like anyone could walk around wearing a big SAPPHICS ONLY pin like Morgan did the other day.

Not like anyone offered that kind of information to me, despite how openly out I've been.

It always felt like Léon and I were the only ones. Kofi is painfully straight. I want to believe generations of elders were queer in secret, then publicly once the world changed. But Réverie doesn't host parades or gatherings during Pride month. Not like the ones I see on the internet.

Every year, it's a quiet celebration. Just me, alone, inside Centauri Palace.

"Not that I know of," I sadly admit.

Karan pats my shoulder. Not condescendingly. With a wide grin, he says, "Welcome to California! Everyone's either queer or not-so-secretly hating you for being queer."

"Isn't that all of America?" Lo proposes.

"The whole world, actually," Reiss sighs.

"Wow. That got dark," Karan says. "Anyway. Jadon, now that you're initiated, I've got one question: when do we get a tour of this epic mansion?"

Convincing Samuel to take Karan and Lo around the grounds takes a tremendous amount of smiling and big, pleading eyes. While he escorts them through the house, I walk out to the main lawn with Reiss.

We stand on one of the cement squares surrounding the pool. The air is cooler tonight. Beyond swaying palm trees, Los Angeles is a field of neon. Between the glittery city and the underwater lights, we're glowing in artificial blues. In the distance, Karan's surprised gasp seeps into our silence.

Reiss shakes his head. "He probably wanted to take Lo on a private tour."

I tip my head curiously.

"You can't tell?" He laughs. "Those two are the definition of that ‘shut up and kiss already' meme." He dramatically puckers his lips, and I don't lean in. But the thought crosses my mind. "Lo's been soft on him since freshman year. After Karan came out, I could tell he was into them too. He wears his heart on his sleeve."

"And you…don't?"

"I'm a man of mystery."

We both snort. I wobble a little and Reiss is right there, hands on my hips, steadying me.

"Careful," he says, eyes crinkled. "I'm not explaining to Ajani how you almost drowned. Again."

My skin warms. "Then stop trying to push me in."

"It was an accident!" He groans. "Is it my fault you're clumsy?"

"I'm not clumsy."

"Well, you sure fall easy."

I don't , I almost say, but my tongue's too heavy. I'm hyperaware of his fingers still on my waist. The darkness in his eyes. Cool breeze kissing my feverish cheeks. The tiny glimpse of pink tongue as he wets his dry lips.

His hands drop away. He turns to face the water. I mirror him, forcing disappointment out of my expression.

"Sorry if this was a boring way to spend the Friday before your birthday," I say.

"It wasn't." In my periphery, his smile is light, delicate. "My family is so extra about birthdays. It's a weeklong thing. Singing and cake and gifts—"

"What's bad about that?"

"You didn't let me get to the part where my mom sobs over me getting older. Or my dad and brother fighting to the death over the last cake slice." He looks mortified. "Did I mention the library of baby photos?"

"Not yet," I say, grinning.

"There. Are. So. Many."

I tip my head back, a breathless laugh catching on the wind.

"I just want to chill with friends," Reiss whispers.

A sad exhale slips through my lips. I miss moments like that. Birthdays where Papa bakes crèmes au caramels. When Mom would wake me at sunset for long, quiet walks along Centauri's private shore. Annika being home .

It's not like that anymore.

For my birthday in August, I got a box of macarons. A FaceTime call from Annika promising we'd party together soon. An apology note hand-delivered by Papa's chamberlain because another meeting with foreign ambassadors kept him and Mom away.

The crown above everything. Including turning seventeen, I guess.

Reiss's elbow nudges mine. "Is there a lot of singing around the palace on birthdays?"

I shake my head.

"I bet there's a lot of good desserts."

"Always," I confirm, genuinely smiling.

"Is your fam—"

Karan's voice from somewhere overhead cuts off Reiss's next question. "Holy shit! These views! Oprah who ?"

"The footage you were trying to get at school and the party," I say, eager to get away from the subject of family. Of how much I wish things were different. "What's it for?"

His expression turns sheepish. "Oceanfront Film Fest."

He takes in my twisted, confused face.

"It's a teen festival for short films. Open to all LA County students. The winner earns a summer internship." He pauses, chest expanding. "And a scholarship to USC's film school. The deadline's December first."

"What's your movie about?" I ask.

He cringes, and I laugh until my face is warm again.

"It's about me, isn't it?" I barely get out. "You really do write coffee shop fanfic about me, don't you?"

The threat of kicking me in the pool darkens his face. "I'm not telling, okay?" He sighs. "I'm kind of superstitious."

"That's fair," I say, dipping my head for a polite nod. "But if you're making a film about my dimples, you can tell me. Promise I won't get mad. I'm flattered."

"God, shut up." But he's laughing now. "So fucking cocky."

"Confidence is attractive," I tell him.

"Not on you." His crooked grin and lingering stares say otherwise.

"Fine," I concede. "Keep all your movie secrets to yourself."

"I plan to."

I watch him rock on his heels, suspended in my own awe.

He keeps surprising me with all these little quirks. Quiet admissions. And I keep shocking myself by committing every detail to memory. Like I'll want to remember them. Remember him when I'm gone.

The point of everything I'm doing is to get home, but here's this boy sneaking inside the iron ribs I've fortified around my heart. He can't be there. Why am I letting him in?

Why has my "no boys" policy suddenly turned to dust?

I clear my throat. "So tonight was good, then? A decent birthday date?"

"It was good," Reiss agrees. "But it wasn't a date."

Wait. Did I—no. I said date .

"I mean—" I scramble to say, my voice way too high.

"Reiss," Karan calls, interrupting my semi-meltdown. "It's pumpkin time. Gotta get Lo home before curfew."

Lo smiles apologetically. "Mamá will murder me if I'm late again."

Reiss nods, half-turning toward me. He's not quite frowning. But his smile isn't as wide either.

"Let me walk you out," I offer.

Outside, Karan pulls his sleek gray BMW up the driveway. Lo launches themselves into the passenger seat. Reiss hovers by the back door. He gives me a soft, wondering look. I don't know how to respond.

A year of dating Léon, and suddenly I don't know how to say goodnight to another boy.

Impulse wins again. I blurt, "Would you like to go on a date?"

Reiss pauses, one hand on the door handle. The tinted windows are lowered. A Moonglow song pours from the speakers.

It's too ironic. Almost too perfect.

"Go on a date with me," I say with more sureness. "Tomorrow."

I ignore the way Lo and Karan are both grinning like their favorite ship just became canon.

Reiss stays motionless, gaping at me.

Karan croons, "Broooooo. It's a date with a prince! If you say no, I will—"

Lo smacks a hand over his mouth just as Reiss says, "Okay. Yes."

I let out a breath that was trapped in my lungs for way too long. "Tomorrow," I repeat before the door closes. Even as they drive off, I can hear Lo's squealing and Karan's whooping and Reiss's embarrassed laughter.

"How disturbing," Ajani says from behind me.

I ignore the dryness in her voice. I'm on a high. So far in the clouds, I can snatch the stars from the sky.

Suddenly, being stuck in America a little longer isn't that bad.