Majesty (American Royals, #2)(24)

“Let me help,” Daphne offered as Himari pressed her face into the flowers and inhaled. There was an empty vase on a table; she carried it to the bathroom and filled it with water before arranging the bouquet inside.

The hospital room felt different from all the times Daphne had visited. Now its sterile surfaces were cluttered with personal items, stuffed animals and foil balloons on sticks and a stack of magazines. Daphne smiled when she saw that Himari was drinking water out of the cartoon-printed thermos she used to sip her morning green juice from. The room even sounded better, the medical equipment emitting a cheerful erratic beep, rather than the soulless refrain of someone unconscious.

Daphne set the flowers on a nearby table, then pulled a chair forward.

“What are you doing?” Himari scooted over, creating space on the bed. “Head wounds aren’t contagious, I promise.”

Daphne couldn’t see an easy way out. She climbed up next to her friend, the way she used to back when they would hang out in Himari’s room, trading stories and secrets and laughing until their chests hurt.

“My nurses said you visited every week,” Himari went on. “Thanks for doing that. You’re such a loyal friend.”

Did those last two words have a sarcastic bite? Daphne couldn’t really tell. It was still so surreal, hearing Himari speak at all.

“We were all worried about you, Himari. That fall…”

“Did you see it?”

“I—what?”

“Did you see me fall?”

The air seemed to drain from the room. Daphne looked over, meeting her friend’s gaze. “I was at the party, but no. I didn’t see you fall.”

Himari tugged absently at her sheets. “The doctors said there was a low dosage of narcotics in my system. As if I’d mixed vodka and NyQuil, or something.”

“Really?” Daphne replied, with admirable calm. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I don’t get it either,” Himari insisted. “And what was I going upstairs for?”

Was this a trap, or did Himari truly not know? Daphne didn’t dare answer with the truth. She decided her only option was to answer a question with a question.

“You don’t remember?”

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Himari’s body. “No. It’s so bizarre. I remember everything else: god, I remember the name and title of every last person at court. But the days leading up to the accident are a complete blank.”

A complete blank. Relief swept through Daphne. If Himari didn’t remember, it would be like none of it had ever happened: Daphne sleeping with Ethan, the blackmail, the night of the fall.

Or—what if Himari was only pretending to have forgotten? She might be acting like this to draw Daphne close, and carry out some greater revenge scheme.

“I’m not surprised you remember everyone at court,” Daphne said carefully. “You and I spent weeks combing through McCall’s Peerage before our first royal function.”

Himari smiled at that. To Daphne, at least, it looked genuine. “I still can’t believe we made note cards for that. We were such dorks.”

Back then, neither of them had mattered in the vast hierarchy of court. Himari’s parents possessed an earldom, so they ranked higher than Daphne’s, who were a second-generation baronet and lady. But Himari’s older brother would inherit their title, while Daphne, at least, was an only child.

Both girls had been nobodies, and each wanted desperately to be somebody. It was what had initially drawn them to each other—their shared impulse to climb.

Daphne hadn’t realized at the time what that kind of wanting could do to someone, how dangerous it could make them.

“If you don’t remember falling,” she asked, “what do you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is our French exam! When I woke up, my first thought was that I had a calculus final today, and I needed to make sure I brought my calculator to school.”

Daphne listened hard, searching for any hint of hesitation or falsehood in Himari’s words, but she didn’t hear any.

“Our French exam? That was at least a week before the graduation party.” And before Himari’s birthday: when Daphne ended up with Ethan, and Himari saw them in bed together.

Before Himari threatened Daphne with the secret, and Daphne decided to fight fire with fire, and everything escalated so horribly out of control.

“It could be worse. I could’ve lost months instead of days,” Himari pointed out. “Though I guess I have lost months, given that a year of my life has disappeared.”

“I’m so sorry,” Daphne replied, because there was nothing else to say.

“I didn’t believe my parents, you know.” Himari was still holding the gift basket, fiddling with the cellophane wrapper around a soy candle. “When I woke up and heard the date, when they told me that the king had died, I didn’t believe it.”

Daphne swallowed. “A lot happened while you were in the hospital.”

“I know, you’re about to graduate! Next year, I’ll have to be a senior all alone.” Himari sighed dramatically, looking so utterly like her old self that Daphne almost smiled.

Suddenly, she remembered a time back in freshman year—before she was dating Jefferson, because no one would dare do something like this now—when a junior named Mary Blythe started a rumor that Daphne had gotten plastic surgery. On her nose, her boobs, everything.