Page 131 of Prince of the Palisades

My nose wrinkles. I forgot about the dinner with Grace’s dad.

“A good one,” Papa assures. “She likes your…fire.”

I set a timer on my phone. He leans against the island, waiting for me to speak.

Be a little fearless.

“Do you know what it’s like?” I finally say. “To have a king—your papa—tell hisgayson he’s not the kind of prince his country deserves?”

His face falls. “Son. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But it still hurt. For months, I didn’t think being me was enough. I tried to be someone else. But I can’t be.”

“No, you can’t.” Papa smiles sadly. “Youshouldn’t.”

He surprises me by grabbing my hand. His is wrinkled, a little cold, but still bigger. Still strong and gentle. A hand that guided me through the only moments where I felt likeJadon was enough—in the palace kitchens, just us, away from the world.

“I want to go to university,” I confess. “In America.”

Papa stays quiet. He grips my hand tighter.Tell me more.

“I want to pursue baking. Or acting. Maybe something boring.” I laugh. “I want to study politics too.”

A subtle eyebrow raise, but he still doesn’t interrupt.

“I want to do more for Réverie,” I say. “For people like me. I can’t do that in the palace. Or on a council. I need room to explore and learn.”

Papa’s gaze turns to the main lawn. To Mom giggling with Reiss.

“Like I did.”

I grin. At least I know where I got my stubborn, romantic heart from.

“Annika’s the next queen,” I say. “But I want to build aRéverie I’m proud of too. I’m done with the past. I don’t always want to be neutral.”

Papa exhales, shoulders dropping. “I don’t want that either.” He clears his throat. Stares into my eyes. “You’ll stay here. Finish your education. Annika will stay too. She wants to establish a stronger Réverian presence. That girl has your mom’s drive.”

“She gets it from you too,” I tease.

He smirks. “Samuel will remain here to help as well. He’s quite fond of you.”

Again, I’m caught off guard. Not just by Papa’s revelation. But because I like Samuel too, when he’s not secretly inviting my ex to LA.

“He showed me your Sunset Ball speech,” Papa comments. “I have some notes.”

I groan, embarrassed.

Papa laughs again. “Don’t worry. You’re on the right path.”

Am I? I still don’t know if I’ve found the exact words to tell the world who I am. What my country—and America—has given me.

Papa hauls me into a hug. He smells like sugar and butter and Darjeeling.

Like home.

“You don’t have to get it perfect,” he says into my curls. “You can be angry. Kind. You don’t need to be me or anyone else, son. Just be Jadon.”

I exhale into his shoulder. Tears slip from my eyes as he squeezes tighter.

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