Page 103 of Prince of the Palisades

Luc tugs out his earbuds. “Ignore these two.” He draws an invisible line between me and Annika. “They were born with gold pacifiers in their mouths.”

There’s nothing rude about his tone. Beyond what’s in his royal dossier, I don’t know much about Luc’s personal life. His mom is a former Royal Protection Guard who served under my mémère. Now, she lives on the other side of Réverie in a small, quiet city. He visits whenever possible.

He nods at Reiss. “Private traveliscool.”

“Did you,” Annika says, “just tell someone to ignore the crown princess?”

“I did.” Luc sniffs defiantly.

Annika’s eyes narrow, but the edges of her mouth start to lift.

“Your Highnesses,” Samuel announces over Reiss’s shoulder. “We’re home.”

Outside the window, the band of clouds disappears, and there it is.

“Îles de la Réverie,” Samuel says in a serene voice.

Reiss inhales sharply. I squeeze his knee, beaming.

The island stretches like open arms. From the sea cliffs along the northern shore to the verdant countryside along its western coast. Mountains dip into thick forests. My eyes trace along the sugarcane fields Pépère would take us to visit. Over hillsides where horses roam in dancing grass.

“The centuries-old Réverie Islands,” Samuel narrates for Reiss. “First inhabited by French settlers. A major port during the Atlantic slave trade. But battles between the French and British destroyed much of the land. Its people too.”

In my periphery, Annika and Luc bow their heads, a tradition I mimic.

En mémoire.In remembrance.

We pass over untouched ruins. Shattered ivory buildings rising up like jagged teeth. Decayed churches and piles of crumbled brick.

“War came again. This time from our people,” Samuel continues as cities blossom into view. “Réverians fought against their colonizers. For freedom. For the home they built from rough hands and tired legs. Led by Réné, our first king.”

Modern shops are built around antiquated structures. Roads wind like still rivers. We pass over Académie des Jeunes Dirigeants, the vast emerald park surrounding it. The marketplace sits like a beating heart in Réverie’s chest, breathing life back into my lungs.

“We are a people of survival,” Samuel says proudly. “Determined. Strong. We are hope, for one another and the world we created for ourselves.”

Goosebumps break out along my forearms.

It’s easy to forget history. The places you come from. Where life ended so yours could begin. But it’s just as simple to get tangled in the past. To accept the now as the happy ending rather than the next step to what can be.

“And here,” Samuel whispers, a smile singing through his voice, “is where the light shines brightest.”

Even at sunset, Centauri Palace glows ethereally. Towering peaks and white marble and gleaming windows. Trees circle the land like a gate. The Atlantic waits in the distance, a fluttering cape of blue extended from a crown. From our very own star.

Home.

18

FEUDING ROYAL FAMILY?

During the first of a three-day tour through South Africa, Réverie’s King Simon spoke briefly about his children’s nearly three-month stay in America. His Majesty acknowledged Crown Princess Annika’s achievements, including her ongoing talks to build safer spaces for women. The king made no mention of Prince Jadon or whether he’s made amends with Prime Minister Barnard. Has the spare already been forgotten?

“Do I look okay?” Reiss whispers. “To meet the king and queen?”

I grin. We’ve fallen into the traditional line of succession—Annika first, then me, with Reiss by my side. Our guards shadow close behind. Around us, the palace’s staff efficiently collects our luggage from the Bentleys we rode from the airport in. Outside Centauri’s entrance, a line of Royal Protection Guards bows as we approach.

“They’re just my parents,” I tell Reiss.

He snorts. “Yeah, no. Your dad was on CNN this morning. Mine was burning waffles. They’renotjust your parents.”

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