“Perhaps I should find a less juvenile term,” Louise mused. “But to me, a clique is a group of people who have each other’s backs. Who stand up for each other, help each other navigate all the drama and petty gossip out in the world. By that definition, we are a clique, aren’t we?”
Something about that we made Beatrice feel warm inside. It made her want to live up to whatever Louise saw in her.
The game had reached a natural close; Alexei headed off in search of more wine, and Siri glanced down at her phone.
Bharat leaned toward Beatrice. “I know what it’s like to have people trying to silence you,” he said softly. “I’ve certainly gotten plenty of opposition as a gay future ruler.”
Beatrice nodded, letting him continue.
“It’s hard enough dealing with criticism in my own country, but then to come here and have all the kings dismiss me, call me unfit to rule, question my line of succession…” Bharat broke off in disappointment and sighed.
“I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” No one should be precluded from doing their job because of who they were or who they loved.
Bharat shrugged. “Change happens one generation at a time. If I go through hardship, hopefully it means future generations won’t have to.”
That, Beatrice understood. Whenever the press was especially hard on her, whenever it felt like the road ahead was too steep, she reminded herself that she was doing this for a future queen. She didn’t know if it would be her own daughter, or her granddaughter—but the next Queen of America would have an easier time of it because Beatrice had been first to forge the path.
“Anyway. I’m going to tell my father to vote for your climate accord,” Bharat promised, and Beatrice looked up.
“Thank you. That means so much.”
“Of course. I can tell you really believe in it.”
“Excellent!” Louise exclaimed, having clearly overheard. She held out the bottle of wine with a questioning expression, and to her own surprise, Beatrice took it. She lifted it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle—and immediately burst out coughing. It had gone down the wrong pipe.
Beatrice would have felt sheepish, except Louise was laughing in an affectionate, delighted way.
“Oh, Béatrice.” Louise slapped her on the back a few times. “You can’t even drink properly? I have so much to teach you. But don’t worry,” she added gleefully. “The fun is just beginning.”
Samantha prowled from the living room to the terrace and back again, snatches of conversation drifting around her.
“At least your legislature stays in line. God only knows what mine has been up to in my absence. When the cat’s away, the mice will play….”
“She’s so dumb, she spelled per se as ‘per s-a-y.’ I’m telling you, these assistants always claim to be fluent in English, but they disappoint every time….”
“God, this conference is boring. Makes me want to go full-on Prince Franz and sail off to Hawaii….”
Prince Franz? Sam wondered who he was; she didn’t think she’d met him so far. Then her phone buzzed, and she fumbled for it so frantically that she nearly dropped it in the pool, only to see that it was just Nina.
Sam had been avoiding Marshall the past couple of days, ignoring his calls and sending vague replies to his messages. But she knew she couldn’t dodge this conversation any longer.
When Marshall finally texted that he’d arrived, Sam made her way to the front of Louise’s cottage. He broke into a smile at the sight of her.
“Sorry I got delayed. This party looks amazing.” Marshall stepped forward to hug her, then clearly sensed her mood, his arms falling listlessly to his sides.
“Sam—is everything okay?”
A narrow path wound between the guest cottages and out onto the sand. Sam nodded toward it. “Walk with me?”
They kicked off their shoes and headed along the beach, staying near the edge of the surf. If this were a different night, Sam would have danced in and out of the waves, laughing when the water reached her bare knees. There was nothing playful about the conversation they were about to have.
“I feel like you’re upset with me. Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry,” Marshall said hesitantly.
“Why would you care?” Sam’s voice came out sharp. “We don’t do emotions, right? We’re just hooking up, messing around—”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not serious about me. We haven’t discussed the future. Right?”
They had drawn to a halt. Sam crossed her arms, staring accusatorily at Marshall, who winced.
“You heard us at dinner last week.”
“I didn’t mean to, but I walked past and realized you were all talking about me.” She shook her head and started walking again. “Look, we never really defined what this is. If we’re just physical—if that’s all you feel—then it’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine, but Sam was determined to hang on to a shred of pride.
Marshall caught her wrist, pulling her to a stop. “I’m sorry. But if you overheard that conversation, then you must have realized how adamantly my family wanted me to say that.”
She sighed. “Why does your grandfather hate me?”
“It’s not about who you are, but what you are. You’re the princess, which makes things…complicated.”
“If it’s complicated, then let’s figure it out. Together.”
“It’s a lot bigger than you and me,” Marshall said heavily. “Look, I really didn’t mean for you to hear all that—”
“But you should never have said it in the first place! You should have fought for us, because that’s what you do when you love someone!”
Now she’d done it. She’d spoken the words she had both longed and feared to say.
Well, she couldn’t unsay them.
Marshall met her gaze and swallowed. “I love you, too, Sam. Surely you know that.”
Nothing followed his words but silence, underscored by the gentle sounds of night: a bird trilling, the low rumble of conversation from inside, waves crashing against the shore. Sam’s heart swelled.
Marshall loved her. Everything would be all right.
Except…if they’d just said I love you, why wasn’t he smiling? He was staring at her with such a stricken expression.
“My grandfather never expected us to get serious,” Marshall said softly. “And if I’m being honest, I never expected us to get serious. Not at the beginning.”