Page 115 of Prince of the Palisades

My sister and Luc.

“That might be the other reason I was so busy in LA,” she says with an anxious grin.

“H-how?”

“It happened last year—”

“Last year?” My screeching voice would usually alarm half the Royal Protection Guard. Ajani simply rolls her eyes, as if this isn’t a surprise. As if she’s known all along.

“It was unexpected,” Annika says. “Me and Lucky—”

“No, no. Stop.” I rub my temples, my brain unable keep up with all this new information. “His full name’sLucky?”

Annika’s eyes narrow. My jaw clicks shut. I wave a hand in aplease continuegesture.

“It works,” she says. “When things are too much. When I’m sad or angry. Or need a reminder that I’m more than all of this. He’s there. He likesAnni, not Crown Princess Annika.”

A tender smile tugs at my mouth.

I know who you are.

People talk. I don’t listen.

The things Reiss said to me the first time we really talked. He’s never cared that I was a prince. He likes me as just Jadon.

Well, he did. Before today.

“How do you deal with the, you know, royal stuff?” I ask.

“I don’t go around kissing him in front of busy piers!”

I facepalm.

“I only give the press enough to keep them satisfied. Sometimes, more.” She sighs, her pristine posture unraveling. “It’s a sacrifice. But it means I get those quiet moments with Lucky. Myrelationshipis mine until I’m ready to share it with anyone else.”

“What about Mom? Papa?”

“They know. Now.” She makes a face. “I told them right after you stormed out.”

I’m kind of glad I missed that. I like Luc, questionable reality TV show obsession and all. I don’t think I could’ve controlled my temper if Papa said the wrong thing about him. Not that I’m good at keeping my anger in check to begin with.

“No matter who you are, you don’t owe anyone every piece of you,” Annika tells me. “It’s yours.Youdecide what they get. What they remember you for. Not the crown. Not the people of Réverie.Notour parents.”

The sharp burn behind my eyelashes returns.

Annika pokes my chest. “You decide, Jade. Only you.”

I rest my head on her shoulder.

She whispers into my curls: “You don’t have to be perfect. But you can’t give up either.”

Finally, I close my eyes. The hot tears slip out. Slice down my cheeks like a river of lava. But it’s okay. Princes are allowed to cry.

I’mallowed to cry. Their rules never fit me anyway.

20

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

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