Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(27)

Before Sakshi can have a total breakdown, the side door to the chapel opens, and a woman walks in, trailed by two men in suits and sunglasses. Just behind them, there’s a woman in a bright red suit and the highest, thinnest heels I’ve ever seen, tapping away on a tablet.

Saks, Perry, and I all scramble to our feet, but Flora stays slumped in the pew, her arms crossed over her chest.

Queen Clara looks a lot like Flora and not much like Seb. Same golden hair and whisky eyes, same way of looking at you like you smell bad.

I fight the urge to give myself a quick sniff check, and instead stand very still as the queen moves forward, holding out her hand to Dr. McKee.

The headmistress takes it, giving a quick curtsy that I try to memorize. One foot behind the other, a kind of quick up-and-down bob where she never bends at the waist but does lower her head. It comes naturally to Dr. McKee, but when the queen approaches me, my knees tremble so much that just standing feels like a challenge, never mind pulling off a freaking curtsy.

Honestly, I’m a little surprised to be this rattled. I’ve dealt with rich kids here for the past couple of weeks, made friends with two very rich kids, and my roommate is a princess. But they’re still all just kids, like me. A queen, though? That shakes me up.

Perry bows his head. Sakshi executes a flawless curtsy, and while mine is nowhere near as good, I try my best.

Apparently my best is not that great because the queen’s lips thin slightly as she gestures for us all to sit.

She stays exactly where she is, ramrod straight at the end of the pew.

“This is not what I had intended to do today, Flora,” she finally says. “In fact, I had all sorts of plans, didn’t I, Glynnis?”

The woman with the iPad glances up and scurries over, her footsteps tiny, probably because the skirt she’s wearing doesn’t allow for anything more. Everything about her is bundled up tight, from her killer suit to her intricate updo.

“The Royal Schedule did have to be rearranged some, yes, Your Majesty,” she says. She smiles then, but it’s not a nice smile, and at my side, I feel Flora tense up.

“Oh, what a shame,” she says. “So sorry to have kept you from your usual Saturday of cutting ribbons and kissing babies, Mummy.”

It’s all I can do not to turn and gawk at her, but then, I guess Flora knows exactly how much she can get away with when it comes to her own mother.

The queen presses her lips together again, her hands folded in front of her. “Flora, one of the reasons we decided to send you to Gregorstoun was to curb some of your more . . . irrational behavior.”

“You sent me here as punishment,” Flora counters, and the queen sighs, just the littlest bit. It’s weird to think that in addition to running a country and being a ruler, she’s also just . . . a mom. A mom dealing with a daughter who doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble, I guess.

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” she finally says. “But I assure you that was not my intent. However, with the wedding coming up—”

“Oh, is there a wedding coming up?” Flora asks, widening her eyes with fake surprise. “I haven’t heard a thing about that. Has anyone alerted the media?”

The queen sucks in a deep breath. “Flora—”

“I’m not an idiot, Mummy,” Flora says, sitting forward, her fingers curled around the edge of the pew. “The wedding is why I’m here. You want me out of the way until it’s done.”

“And if I do,” Queen Clara counters, her voice suddenly gone hard, “can you blame me? After you’ve caused yet another scandal that’s embarrassed us all?”

The silence that falls feels heavy and awkward, and even Glynnis looks up, a little crease between her brows. Next to me, Flora goes still, and I see her knuckles turn white where she’s gripping the pew.

“No,” she finally says. “I suppose not.”

“What about Seb?” I blurt out, and everyone looks at me, the queen included.

My face flames hot, and I stammer out, “I—I mean, Prince Sebastian. Just. He did the actual punching and stuff.”

“Sebastian is being dealt with,” the queen says, “as are his foolish friends for allowing themselves to be . . . weaponized for your nonsense, Flora.”

I wrinkle my nose at that, glancing over at Flora. “What does that—” I start, and then I remember. Flora and Seb’s furtive conversation, her asking if all his friends were there. The way she whistled the boys over. Had she somehow engineered this whole thing?

“I, however, am not so foolish,” the queen goes on. “And while I’m sure you thought this was a flawless plan to get yourself kicked out of Gregorstoun and sent back home, I have been your mother far too long to dance to your tune so easily, young lady.”

Drawing herself up to her full height, the queen signals for Glynnis, who comes clicking over on her high heels.

“Dr. McKee has very graciously agreed with me that expulsion is hardly a fit punishment here,” the queen says as Glynnis types away on her iPad. “In fact, expulsion is simply out of the question for you full stop, no matter what other schemes you may plan. You are at Gregorstoun for the remainder of the school year, and that is final. If, however, you decide to test me on this . . .”

A subtle flick of Queen Clara’s fingers, and Glynnis is leaning over, the iPad offered to Flora, who’s still sitting on the edge of the pew, doing her best to look bored.