Daphne’s words were followed by a ringing silence. Then Nina let out a breath. “Look, we can’t just sit here pointing out each other’s flaws.”
“You’re only saying that because you’ve run out of material.” Daphne looked up with a sly, teasing smile. “I, for one, could keep going all night.”
What was happening right now? Were she and Daphne actually making jokes at each other’s expense?
Nina leaned back, bracing her hands on the mattress. “You really think you can make Gabriella trust you?”
Daphne nodded. “She won’t be able to resist lording it over the prince’s girlfriend. Come to think of it,” she said slowly, “maybe I shouldn’t be the prince’s girlfriend for this conversation. I’ll ask Gabriella for a moment alone, get her advice about my breakup with Jefferson.”
“Your breakup?”
Something sizzled through Nina at the thought of a newly single Prince Jefferson.
No, she reminded herself. She and Jeff were friends now; that was all.
“I’m not actually breaking up with him, of course,” Daphne was saying, oblivious to Nina’s sudden turmoil. “I’ll just make it seem that way. If Gabriella thinks our relationship is on the rocks, she’ll draw me close in the hopes of getting all the sordid details.”
This sounded like a risky plan, but Nina knew Daphne well enough by now not to underestimate her. “Good luck,” Nina said uncertainly.
“Good luck? You’re coming with me. This is still a two-person operation,” Daphne informed her. “Someone has to record Gabriella once I’ve made her trust me.”
“Record her?”
“So that we have proof, of course.”
“When exactly is this all going to happen?”
“We’ll figure something out,” Daphne said confidently. “I’ll keep you updated once I’ve found a way to hang out with Gabriella.”
Nina winced. “I’m glad it’s you and not me.” The thought of voluntarily spending time with Gabriella was abhorrent.
Though she would have said that about Daphne once, and look where they were now, teaming up to help each other.
She and Daphne, a team. It wasn’t as outrageous a thought as it used to be.
* * *
The next day, Nina sat in the library with Jeff, reviewing his essay for Introduction to World History.
When she’d realized how anxious he was about the class, Nina had offered to read through his essays, and Jeff had taken her up on it. So here she was, trying desperately to focus on Jeff’s computer screen, not on the sheer fact of him sitting next to her.
Yet she kept glancing at where his hands were splayed on the table, kept feeling his leg brush against hers. If only he weren’t so painfully, effortlessly gorgeous. Except—that was never really what had attracted her, not his looks and certainly not his titles.
She’d never understood girls who were able to kiss someone they’d just met, the way Sam used to in her wilder days. For Nina, the physical was too inextricably tied with the emotional. Back when they dated, Nina hadn’t cared that she was with Prince Jefferson; she’d fallen for Jeff, the boy underneath it all.
She forced herself to focus on his screen. At least she’d made it to page four of a six-page essay. “You could have picked a topic that I’m more familiar with,” she couldn’t resist pointing out. “I know next to nothing about ancient Rome.”
“Please, you know everything about everything,” Jeff said, with such matter-of-fact confidence that she smiled.
“I could be more helpful if you’d chosen to write about the Tudors, or the transfer of power to the Russian duma.”
“Yes, but ancient Rome had gladiators,” Jeff said, which she had expected, and then he added something she hadn’t. “Plus, the structure of their government was so interesting. Did you know our Founding Fathers discussed an elected executive branch, because the Romans elected their consuls?”
An elected executive—how would that work? How could you possibly get anything accomplished if you were always changing the person in charge?
Nina read through the last two pages, asking Jeff to rewrite a sentence here and there, shuffling the order of a few paragraphs so that the argument built more cohesively. When they’d finished, he pushed his chair back with a sigh.
“Thanks so much, Nina. I really owe you one.”
“I’m always happy to help a friend,” she assured him.
They left the library, a drizzling mist hanging heavy in the air. Jeff nodded at the sedan in the parking lot. “Can I give you a ride back to the Chalet?”
“That’s okay. I want to walk,” she said quickly. Better not to spend any more time alone with Jeff.
Yet instead of heading back to the palace, he shrugged. “Then I’ll walk you.”
“Jeff, it’s not very late. You don’t have to.”
“That’s what friends are for,” he told her, smiling.
There was nothing Nina could say to that. She was the one who kept reminding them both that they were just friends.
It would have been like any other guy walking across campus with her, except for the Revere Guard several paces behind them, holding an umbrella in case the skies opened into a downpour. And the car that followed, vanishing and then reappearing as it followed the roads that were meant only for licensed university vehicles and supply trucks.
When they reached Nina’s dorm, she paused at the doorway and looked up at Jeff. Her blood pinged wildly inside her, bouncing off her skin, making everything buzz and tingle.
His dark hair seemed to glow. In the moonlight he was all shadow and silver, like an old black-and-white photo come to life. Come to think of it, there was something historical in the set of his chin, the resolute way he squared his shoulders.
Nina realized that she’d been lying when she’d told Daphne that she had no romantic feelings for Jeff. But then, she’d been lying to herself, too.
Whatever part of her had fallen in love with Jeff the first time, it was still there—and in danger of falling for him all over again.
He met her gaze, and Nina caught a flash of nervousness, maybe even of longing.
She took a panicked step back, fumbling for her student ID to hide the shaking of her hands. “Good night, Jeff,” she said quickly, and shut the door in his face.
“Ladies!” Lord Colin Marchworth called out, clapping his hands imperiously.
The ladies-in-waiting, all wearing ivory column gowns and elbow-length gloves, reluctantly broke off their conversations. Colin squinted behind his glasses and began pompously directing the young women into position at the front of the throne room.