I’m not sure what his problem is—whether he’s simply not a fan of arranged marriage or if it’s something more personal—but he’s made me so nervous it’s been easier to pull off a Lizzy-esque stammer than I expected it to be.
“You said you’ve ridden horses before, Elizabeth?” the queen asks with a kind but tired smile.
She was called in to assist on an emergency surgery early this afternoon and arrived back at the palace with just enough time to shower and throw on a designer dress for dinner—as you do when you’re real royalty, apparently.
Our family dresses for dinner every Saturday, but that usually involves me finding a clean pair of jeans, Lizzy brushing her hair for the first time in several days, and Mother adding a turban and jewelry to her satin pajamas. Father is the only one who puts on truly fancy clothes, and his suits are all at least twenty years old.
“Yes, your highness,” I say, racking my brain to remember the last time Lizzy rode a horse. I know my twin better than anyone else in the world, but we’re still separate people living our own lives. I make a mental note to shoot Lizzy a list of questions as soon as I get back to my phone and answer as vaguely as possible, “I r-rode as a g-girl.”
Felicity’s eyes warm as she nods. “Perfect. Then you should be in good shape for the ceremony next week. It’s a simple course and all done at a walk so the press can take pictures before we leave the lawn. But we’ll be sure to pick a gentle horse for you, just in case. You’ll see to that, Andrew?”
“Of course, Mother,” Andrew says over the rim of his teacup. He takes a sip and sets it back down in its poppy-printed, gold-leaf china saucer—even the plates are better dressed than most of my family members. “I thought Death Wish would be a good choice.”
“Death Wish?” I echo, brows shooting up. “He sounds s-scary.”
“She’s a sweetheart. One apple slice, and her heart is yours for life.” Andrew laughs as he nods Nick’s way. “It’s Nick’s fault she sounds like a monster. It was his turn to name the next filly the year she was born, and he was obsessed with spy movies at the time. Mistress Death Wish was his favorite villain.”
Nick grins guiltily as he shrugs. “I was twelve. I grew out of it.”
“Lies,” Andrew says. “He still wants to be a spy. He’s always snooping in other people’s business and hacking into places he shouldn’t.”
The queen makes a troubled sound beneath her breath. “Nickolas, we’ve discussed this. I know you’re only amusing yourself, but if you get caught poking around in the wrong places online, you could cause an international incident.”
“I won’t cause an international incident, Mother,” Nick says with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Andrew is exaggerating.” He shoots a smile my way. “Andrew is the one with a network of spies. You should ask him about—”
“She doesn’t want to hear about that,” Andrew cuts in sharply, looking fully awake for the first during the long, leisurely dinner. “And shouldn’t you be leaving soon, Nick? Your coronation suit isn’t going to tailor itself, and I’m sure Thomas would like to head home to his family sometime before midnight.”
Nick frowns. “You didn’t tell me he was here.”
“I assumed you knew,” Andrew says, coolly, swirling his tea. “He was waiting in the blue room, the one you walk by on your way down the stairs. With your super-spy senses, I didn’t see how you could have missed him.”
With a tight smile, Nick nods and scoots his chair away from the table. “Then, if everyone will excuse me, I’ll be off. I don’t want to keep Thomas waiting any longer. So good to catch up with you, Elizabeth. I look forward to knowing you better, and I hope you’ll call me a friend.”
“Thank you, so m-much.” I wave as he stands
He nods in return and sets his napkin beside his dessert plate. With a final glare in Andrew’s direction, he strides to the head of the table to kiss his mother’s cheek and then disappears through the door leading toward the grand, central staircase.
“So Elizabeth,” Jeffrey says, his voice so deep it makes me jump in surprise, though he isn’t speaking any louder than his brothers, “what sort of films do you enjoy?”
Films? I guess he means movies.
But Lizzy doesn’t watch movies. Lizzy reads—books and online newspapers and fashion blogs and poetry—and when she isn’t reading, she’s listening to an audiobook while she sews. I can’t remember the last time my sister sat down in front of the television. I’m always alone when I stay up to watch old episodes of Faulty Towers.
“I thought I’d put together a screening in the palace theater next week,” Jeffrey rumbles, a challenging note in his voice I don’t understand. “Is there anything, in particular, you’ve wanted to see? I have access to films that are still in theaters, as well. Or maybe just an old favorite?”
“W-well,” I stammer, skimming back through the years, knowing there was a time when Lizzy, Zan, and I would cuddle on the couch in Nanny Chamomile’s room and watch movies, but unable to remember which ones Lizzy liked.
Zan was up for anything with a lot of action, and I loved the teen romances from the 80s, but Lizzy was always so quiet, knitting at the same time, and sometimes she’d fall asleep and—
Oh my God, it’s not that difficult a question. Why can’t I think of anything my sister might like to watch?!
I’m blanking!
Blanking!
And Jeffrey is staring at me like he suspects I have a scandalous secret. And I do have a scandalous secret, but there’s no way Jeffery could know about it. And why is he being so weird when I’ve literally done nothing but sit and smile and eat very quietly in his presence?
Is he always like this?
Or have I unwittingly done something to annoy him?
“Really, we aren’t picky. I’m sure you can remember at least one favorite. Maybe from when you were a child?” Jeffrey presses, making sweat break out on my upper lip.
“Relax, Jeff,” Andrew says with a frown. “Not everyone has strong opinions on entertainment. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy whatever you pick.”
“Not true.” Jeffrey’s gaze remains locked on mine. “Different people have different preferences. Even twins. Wouldn’t you agree, Elizabeth?”
I swallow, squirming in my seat. “Yes. They d-do. I like documentaries. Nature d-documentaries. Animals especially.”
There. Lizzy might not care for movies, but she loves animals.
And if being forced to pretend to enjoy movies about baby monkeys or marching penguins is the worst thing to come from the two of us switching places, she should consider herself a lucky woman.
Jeffrey’s eyes narrow as he nods. “Good to know.”
But he doesn’t sound like it’s good. He sounds like he’s issuing a warning that he’ll live to face me in battle another day, but I still have no clue what we’re fighting about.
“Well, now that we’ve settled that burning question…” Andrew shoots Jeffery a sideways glance that makes me think this isn’t normal behavior for his brother before turning my way with a “let’s get out of here” flare of his nostrils. “You ready to tackle the maze, Lizzy?”