Page 107 of Prince of the Palisades

“You don’t have to worry about being my sidekick anymore,” I tell him. “About poor, sad Jadon stealing your spotlight. It’s all yours. I hope you enjoy it.”

I spin away. Walk back into the booming marketplace, where I find Reiss with an armful of gifts for his family.

“I went a little overboard,” he says sheepishly. Then, he studies me. “Everything okay?”

I pause. For once, there’s no unbearable heat in my chest. No fire waiting to get out. It’s just me and Reiss. I smile at him.

“Yeah. I’m…better than expected.”

His eyebrows crinkle in confusion. Whatever question he wants to ask is drowned out by voices chanting, “Jadon! Jadon! Jadon!”

It’s a pack of beaming, sweaty kids half my size. Theirclothes are grass-stained. One boy spins a football on his index finger.

“You’re back!” he shouts. “You owe us like a million games.”

They all nod in unison.

I pivot to Ajani. She sighs, her face saying it all:You’re asking for trouble. I am. But, this time, it’s good trouble. Far from newsworthy trouble.

Turns out, Reiss is terrible at football. A fumbling, tripping, can’t-score-on-an-open-goal mess. We run around for hours, breathless and drenched by the time we finish.

When the kids dogpile Reiss in the center of the field, my chest cracks at one thought:

I’m finally sharing my world with Reiss, like I hoped back on Santa Monica Pier.

Before we leave, I buy everyone crème glacée and promise another game soon.

Reality hits me again: this is my home. The place I was so desperate to get back to. America was temporary.

This thing with Reiss is…I’m afraid to figure that part out.

Centauri’s eastern wing is always eerily quiet. It’s only for guest chambers. I should be in my own suite on the other side of the palace. Then again, when have I ever done what I was supposed to?

The silent corridor’s antique rug is soft under my bare feet. I move quickly. Sneaking around at midnight isn’t new. I mastered it long ago, figuring out where the loose floorboardsare, discovering secret rooms, places to hide from patrolling guards. I’ve never been caught.

“My prince.”

Until now.

Wincing, I slowly turn to face Ajani and her suspicious glare.

“Sleepwalking?”

“Something like that,” I squeak, throat tight.

She purses her lips, one hand behind her back. No doubt concealing the taser she’s going to use before dragging my unconscious body back to my suite.

“Thing is,” I try, “I was just looking for the, er—”

“Oh, please.” Indignation flashes across her eyes. “Do I look that incompetent? Like I didn’t know you were sneaking out with Léon all that time.”

My jaw drops, eyes probably cartoonishly wide.She knew?All my careful planning. Ducking behind curtains. Crawling out open windows.

“Every single time,” she says, as if reading my mind. “I won’t speak of this if you”—she reveals what’s behind her back: a plate of gooey chocolate cake drizzled in raspberry sauce—“never tell who’s been stealing desserts from the kitchens.”

“I saw nothing,” I confirm.

“In your suite by sunrise,” she commands, then disappears into the shadows.

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