Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(61)

“We are going to have a chance to look a little nicer before I meet the other royals, right?” I ask, and Flora nods, already typing away on her phone.

“Glynnis is in charge of this entire thing, so we might actually have hairdressers meeting us at Holyrood.”

She’s kidding.

At least I think she is.

But I don’t have time to ask because the car is suddenly pulling up to the palace, turning through big wrought-iron gates, and it’s all I can do not to press my nose against the window as Holyrood looms into view.

“Oh man,” I breathe, taking in the warm-colored stone under the afternoon light. “It’s so . . .”

“It is,” Flora says happily, and when she reaches out to squeeze my hand, I feel that same mix of giddiness and terror that accompanied me on the train ride down.

Glynnis is waiting for us in the drive, as shiny and polished as ever, and I notice Nicola standing a few feet away. She’s not quite as put together as her mom, but she still looks nice in a button-down shirt and cute skirt.

“Hi again,” I say to her, waving, and she waves back before walking over.

As Flora and Glynnis confer about something, Nicola leans close and says, “This is going to be a lot more intense than Skye, but I promise no one is as scary as they seem.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, but she just pats me on the shoulder with a sympathetic look before going back over to her mom.

“Amelia,” Glynnis says, gesturing me over and snapping at a footman lingering near the car.

“Ralph here will see you to your room,” she says before leaning in and saying to the footman, “the Darnley Suite. If the garment bag is not in there, call Charles and tell him to call me.”

“Roger, madam,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s telling her he understands or if he’s correcting her on his name.

In any case, it all sounds vaguely like code.

Then Glynnis turns her attention back to me. “Celeste will come to do your hair at three, then Veronica will be in to do your makeup at four. Once you’re dressed, I’ll send someone up with a selection of jewels.”

I swallow hard. “Jewels?”

The word cracks somewhere in the middle, and my hand goes to my throat, remembering that collar of diamonds Flora wore up on Skye. Will I have something like that? I . . . cannot be trusted with something like that. I’ll spend the whole night with my hand on my neck, making sure an object that costs the same as my dad’s house—if not more—hasn’t plunged into my soup bowl.

Glynnis sees my gesture and laughs a little, shaking her head. “Only some earrings—nothing too valuable.”

Somehow I think me and Glynnis don’t have the same idea about what “valuable” means, but I’m relieved enough to nod and say, “Sounds great!”

“Emeralds,” Flora says to Glynnis, who nods, making a note on her ever-present iPad.

“Go on,” Flora tells me, nudging my hand. “Rest up, and I’ll see you at five for drinks in the pink drawing room.”

When I stare blankly at her, she adds, “Someone will come get you, don’t worry about it.”

With another smile, she’s off with Glynnis and Nicola, and I’m left to follow Ralph-or-maybe-Roger to my room.

I don’t actually have a lot of time for gawping at my surroundings, and we go up a series of back staircases and down a bunch of narrow halls, twisting and turning until I’m at a room that’s not as pretty as my room on Skye, but still way nicer than anything I’ve ever seen.

And sure enough, there’s a garment bag laid out for me on the bed.

Unzipping it, I see the ball gown I wore on Skye.

“Hi there,” I tell it, stroking my hand over the fabric and remembering that dance in the orangery with Flora. Maybe this dress is a good luck charm?

I definitely feel like I’m going to need one.





CHAPTER 35





In a weird way, it’s like the night at Skye all over again.

Me in my green dress, Flora in another ball gown, this one gold instead of tartan, another castle, more people in strange old-fashioned uniforms.

It should feel the same, and maybe for Flora it does. This is the kind of thing she’s used to, after all. But for me, everything is different.

Flora slips her arm through mine as we approach a pair of huge gilded doors, and I take a deep breath.

Flora glances over at me. “They’re just people,” she says. “End of the day, same as anyone else.”

Looking over at her, I raise both my eyebrows. “Do you actually believe that?”

“Oh god, no,” she replies immediately, giving a little shudder. “Bloody terrifying, the whole lot of them, me included.”

That makes me laugh, and when she reaches out and briefly takes my hand, I give it a quick squeeze back.

Flora may have been joking, but there’s no doubt that this particular Meet the Parents moment is more intense than the usual.

Not that we’ve been totally open about what we are, of course.

If we even are anything.

Please. Me? Royal Girlfriend? The idea is so ridiculous I want to laugh.

Except that when Flora’s hand drops from mine, my fingers almost instinctively curl around the empty space, wanting to hold on to her longer. And that feels . . . a lot more than friendly.