The world didn’t allow its queens the luxury of tears.
“I never realized that Supreme Court justices party like this,” Nina said, staring around the rooftop of the Daltons’ house.
Daphne gave a wry smile. “The End of Session party is usually at Justice Dalton’s estate in Middleburg, but this year the Daltons decided to throw it in town. Which meant that everyone RSVP’d yes.” People had been dying to get a look inside this townhouse for years.
“Apparently, they’ve all forgotten how much they hate each other.” Nina nodded across the patio to where a pair of justices—whose views were diametrically opposed, who had never voted the same way on a single case—were sipping cosmopolitans and laughing like old friends.
Daphne shrugged. “People tend to set aside their rivalries for the sake of a good party.”
“Except you,” Nina observed.
“Except me,” she agreed, almost cheerful. Nothing excited Daphne more than the prospect of a good takedown.
Ever since the night at the wine bar, she’d been playing her part with Gabriella: writing sycophantic comments on Gabriella’s posts, texting her with questions, as if Daphne actually valued Gabriella’s stuck-up opinion on anything.
For tonight’s event, Daphne had gone directly to the palace’s social secretary and asked her to RSVP to the party on Jefferson’s behalf, as Prince Jefferson plus two guests. It was a mark of how far she’d come that the secretary took Daphne’s word for it. And just like that, the party was added to Jefferson’s social calendar.
Now she and Nina could finally enact the last stage of their plan.
She glanced around the crowded rooftop, where politicians and judges, courtiers and businesspeople, all elbowed for space. Daphne heard more conversations than she could ever hope to eavesdrop on, flirtations and feuds beginning and dissolving all around her. She wondered what the party looked like from street level: the roof illuminated with golden lights, laughter and jazz music drifting down in tantalizing snatches.
“Gabriella’s here,” Nina whispered. “Ten o’clock, by the tall woman in red.”
“That’s Miranda Abbott. The representative from Salt Lake in the House of Tribunes,” Daphne said absently, though her eyes had cut straight to the cluster of people surrounding Jefferson. Gabriella Madison, of course, was one of them.
Daphne hated what she was about to do, but what other choice did she have?
Jefferson smiled when he saw her coming, stepping aside to create space for her in their circle. “Hey, Daph,” he said warmly. “I heard there’s a mac-and-cheese bar on the first floor. Should we go check it out?”
“Actually, can we talk?” She started toward the balcony, then slowed; she had to remind herself that for once, she actually wanted to be overheard. Jefferson followed, puzzled.
Daphne’s stomach twisted as she pulled her phone from her purse and held it toward him. “What’s this about?”
It had been shockingly easy to find an incriminating image. No matter how hard Jefferson’s Revere Guard tried to prevent it, Jefferson still inevitably ended up in the background of people’s photos. Daphne had searched through various pictures from the decades party until she found one with Jefferson in the background, talking to a brunette in a poodle skirt.
“I guess that’s a photo from last weekend,” he said, clearly confused.
Daphne thrust the phone wildly toward his face. “Who is she? Why are you looking at her like that?”
“Um—because I smile at parties?” he said slowly. “I don’t even remember that girl’s name; she just introduced herself and said hi. Besides, you were right there with me.”
Daphne felt like she was picking at a scab, scratching and scratching in an attempt to draw blood. “Why do you think I went to the party with you? I don’t trust what goes on when I’m not around!”
Jefferson looked bewildered. “You think I’m cheating on you? Daph, I would never do that. I love you.”
He made it so difficult to pick a fight with him. Daphne had no choice but to bring out the big guns. “But you have cheated on me,” she said quietly. “I know you were with someone else last year, the night before you and Samantha left for Asia.”
She’d never told Jefferson that she saw him that night, never forced him to admit to his betrayal. After a while, Daphne had stopped worrying about who he’d been with. So much had happened since then.
Jefferson’s eyes cut guiltily across the rooftop. Daphne followed his gaze but couldn’t tell what—or who—he was looking at in the crowd.
“I’m so sorry,” he said helplessly. “That wasn’t fair to you. But I don’t understand—if you’ve known this whole time, why didn’t you say anything?”
Because she’d been holding it in reserve for a moment like this.
“I wanted to trust you,” she told him. “And I did, until you started at King’s College. I feel like I’m losing you now, like there’s some part of you that you’re holding back from me.”
All Daphne had meant to do was escalate their fight, to keep hurling accusations at him until it seemed plausible to everyone watching, namely Gabriella, that they might break up.
Yet as she spoke the words, Daphne wondered if there was some truth to them.
Hadn’t Jefferson been pulling away from her lately? Or—even worse—was he being pulled toward someone else?
“I don’t know what you want from me, Daphne,” Jefferson said, now a little frustrated, and Daphne knew she was in trouble from the way he said Daphne and not Daph. “Am I supposed to text you my every move? You’re the one who decided not to come to school this fall.”
“Forget it.” Daphne spun around and began cutting through the crowd.
When she collided with Gabriella, she gasped as if it had been accidental. “Oh—Gabriella! Thank god.”
“Daphne. What’s going on?” Not Are you okay? but What’s going on? As if all Gabriella cared about was the fuel she could give the rumor mill.
Well, Daphne was about to give her some.
“Will you come to the ladies’ room with me?” Daphne put a hand on Gabriella’s arm. “I could really use a friend right now.”
Gabriella gave Daphne’s hand what she probably thought was a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.”
As she and Nina had discussed, Daphne headed down to the third floor. “I need some privacy,” she murmured, bypassing the bathroom line and opening the door to a guest room. She flicked a light switch, revealing a queen-sized bed and a cabinet filled with curios: a bowl painted with tiny gold whorls, a silver thing that looked like a bird’s nest.