Royals (Royals #1)(13)

“Not now, girls,” she says, and flashes El a look through the screen, too. “You too, young lady.”

Ellie scowls, and I see her look over at Glynnis, who is very diplomatically focusing on her phone and not our sisterly sniping.

“The plan is,” Glynnis says, still not looking up, “for you to come here for the summer. To Scotland, rather. It will be far easier for us to control access to you if you’re in Eleanor and Alexander’s circle.”

“I don’t want to be in a circle,” I reply, “and besides, I can’t go to Scotland. Isabel and I are going to Key Con in Key West in a couple of weeks.”

Mom hums, nodding. “That’s true, you’ve been planning that for ages. Maybe after—”

Glynnis leans a little closer, her smile becoming a grimace. “I’m so sorry,” she says, “but the family is rather insistent we get this sorted as soon as possible, and the summer schedule is already locked. It would really be so much easier to slide Daisy in now.”

“Easier for who?” I ask, but that’s stupid, because of course she means the royal family and Ellie.

“Daisy, we’re trying to help,” Ellie pleads, pulling her hair away from her face. When she does, I notice how sharp her jaw is. El definitely looked skinnier when she was here, but for the first time, I see that she’s really skinny now, and that there are faint violet shadows beneath her eyes. I had one stupid blog post about me, and it was making me feel like my skin didn’t fit right. What is it like to have thousands of those types of posts?

But then I remember that she’s trying to make me give up this trip, this thing Isabel and I have been excited about for a year. How am I supposed to tell Isa that, sorry, my sister pulled rank and now I can’t go?

And then, ugh, it’s so stupid, but I feel my throat tightening up. “No,” I say. “I’m not canceling on Isabel just because of one stupid gossip website, and one stupid boy. We planned this. Ash Bentley is going to be there, and she’s our favorite author, and—”

Sighing, Ellie throws up her hands. “Oh my god, Isabel can just come here for a few days or something.”

Glynnis nods and starts tapping on her phone. “Ash Bentley, you said?” A few more taps, then she flashes a grin. “She’s actually on a UK book tour next month. I can make some calls to her publisher, have them add a stop in Edinburgh. We’ll fly your friend over to see her, too.”

“Great,” Ellie says, then looks back at the screen. “See?” she says. “Fixed.”

I just sit there, gaping at her. “No, not fixed. I don’t want your ‘people’ pulling weird strings, I want to see her in two weeks in Key West with Isabel like we planned. And it’s not just seeing Ash Bentley. It was the entire con. It was . . .” I trail off because I have no idea how to make them see that this was something I was looking forward to. To Ellie, it’s probably just another one of my weird hobbies, but Key Con was going to be the highlight of my summer.

Glynnis leans back, clearly so Ellie can handle it from here, and my sister cuts her eyes to the side before lowering her voice and saying, “Mom, talk to her.”

I jerk my head to look at Mom, who is now raking her hands through her hair. She’s blond like Ellie (and me, before the dye job), but it’s a little grayer and ashier, cut in a shag haircut that frames her face. It’s my face, pretty much, just older, and when she looks at me, I already know what she’s going to say.

“You’re going to take her side in this,” I say, and Mom reaches out, laying a hand on my arm.

“Darling. This does seem like a fair compromise. More than fair, really.”

And the thing is, I know that. I know that going to a smaller signing rather than a massive convention where we’ll just be faces in the crowd is better, but it’s just . . . that was ours. Our idea, our plan, our choice. Nothing about this is my choice.

When I don’t say anything, Ellie picks up the laptop, holding it closer to her face. “This story isn’t just some random gossip thing, Daisy,” she says. “What Glynnis is being too nice to tell you is that it made the papers here, and I’d really like my future in-laws to meet you—all of you—and see for themselves what lovely, totally normal people you are.”

“Are we normal?” Dad asks, tugging at his ponytail. “That’s so disappointing.”

Glynnis takes the laptop again, giving us that bright smile. I wonder if it would be too forward to tell her she needs to tone it down about a thousand notches because that grin makes her look like she’s about to eat us.

“We were already planning a get-together closer to the wedding,” she says, “but with it being summer, this really does seem like the perfect time, I hope you’ll all agree.”

“No,” I say again, “because I have a . . . god, what would y’all say? A ‘prior commitment.’ Besides, I haven’t learned the protocol or anything yet,” I argue. “I might say the wrong thing to the wrong person and cause an international incident. What if I screw up so badly that Scotland declares war on Florida? What then, El?”

My sister is still holding her hair in a ponytail over one shoulder, her head tilted slightly to one side, and her eyes narrow. “Why are you like this?”

I shrug. “Dad, probably.”