Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(17)

“And this is the family you want to marry into?” I say.

“Seb is a fixer-upper, and there is nothing I cannot improve,” Sakshi replies.

Weirdly, I totally believe her. Sakshi could probably lead entire armies into battle armed with her confidence alone.

And sitting at this table, battle seems like a feasible thing to plan.

Dr. McKee stands at the opposite side of the room, just next to a large suit of armor and right under one of those thick windows with the wavy glass that barely let sunlight penetrate the room.

“Ladies,” she says with a warm and genuine smile, “I cannot tell you what a thrill it is to be welcoming you to Gregorstoun. I’ve waited six years now to be able to actually address a roomful of students as ‘ladies.’”

Saks leans close. “They hired Dr. McKee to bring Gregorstoun out of the Dark Ages,” she whispers. “So of course she started campaigning for women to be admitted, but it took years. Because patriarchy.”

I nod. That makes sense.

Dr. McKee is still talking, but to tell the truth, jet lag still has me firmly in its grip, so I’m struggling to follow along until I hear her say, “The Challenge.”

Then I perk up.

“The Challenge is one of the hallmarks of a Gregorstoun education,” Dr. McKee goes on. “In years past, it was used as an opportunity for some sort of outdated show of masculinity, so to fit both our changing times and our new commitments to the sort of school we’d like to be, we’ve decided that the Challenge will be a bit different this year. For one, you’ll be in pairs rather than working in larger teams.”

It is so stupid, so totally elementary school of me, but as soon as Dr. McKee says “pairs,” my stomach drops a little. Sakshi seems nice, and I wouldn’t mind pairing up with her, but maybe she already has a close friend, someone she’s known for more than an hour, who she wants to pair up with.

Unless we’re going to be paired randomly? That might save me the humiliation of trying to find a partner, but it still doesn’t seem ideal.

And then Dr. McKee smiles and basically ruins my life. “And to make this a more immersive experience, your partner will be your roommate.”

I can’t help but glance down the table at Flora, who’s already looking back at me with a bored and vaguely irritated expression.

Me and Veruca Salt? Out in the wilderness together?

“Of course, the Challenge won’t begin for another month,” Dr. McKee goes on with a smile. “So you’ll have plenty of time to plan out your strategy along with the rest of your schoolwork.”

The rest of the meeting is reminders about rules, instructions on how to best balance “academic life with social pursuits.” And then we’re dismissed back to our rooms to “have some downtime” before school officially starts tomorrow.

I wave good-bye to Saks as I head up the stairs, my limbs heavy and my eyes gritty. All I can think about is flopping onto my bed and sleeping, even though it’s barely 5 p.m.

But when I get to my room, Flora is already there, standing by the foot of her bed, looking out the window.

She’s also on her phone, even though one of the lectures we just got involved turning our phones over to the main office. We can have them on weekends, but not during the school week, something I remind myself to email Dad about.

But then, I guess rules don’t apply to Flora.

“Well, she’ll have to get over it,” Flora is saying now, one arm crossed over her stomach as she keeps looking out the window. “I told her that was one of the requirements of me going to school here.”

There’s a pause, and she glances over her shoulder at me, lips pursing briefly. Then she turns back to the window.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m safe as houses up here, and you didn’t have to have security detail. Neither did Seb. So why am I the exception? And I warn you, if you say it’s because I’m a girl, I’m going to leak it to the papers that you slept with a blankie until you were eleven.”

I don’t want to eavesdrop, but you kind of can’t not when you’re sharing a room with someone, and curiosity has me edging a little closer to the window to see what she’s looking at.

It’s the guy from earlier, the red-faced one in the dark suit, and he’s putting suitcases in the trunk of a black SUV. He’s got a cell phone pressed to his ear, too, and as I watch, he drops a suitcase, flinging his free hand up in the direction of the school, and, I’m guessing, Flora.

Her lips curve in a slow smile as she lifts her hand to wave at him, but he’s not looking.

Then, sighing, Flora turns away from the window, flouncing onto her bed. She’s got the same boring white sheets and green blanket I do, and I can see she’s added some throw pillows. She’s also completely taken over the top of the dresser, and I frown as I look at the expensive scented candles, framed photos of Flora and a bunch of similarly gorgeous girls in big hats and gorgeous dresses, and . . . a porcelain hand?

Apparently a ring holder, since all the fingers are decorated with various sparkly pieces.

While Flora keeps chatting on the phone (To a prince, a part of my brain whispers, who will one day be a king, and who is her brother because she is a princess, you are living with an honest-to-god princess), I unzip my duffel and pull out the big Ziploc bag I brought with my favorite rock samples.