Page 24 of Prince of the Palisades

After recapping the conversation with Mom, Annika says, “You know she only wants what’s best for you.”

“She wants what’s best for the throne,” I argue. “What’ll look good to our people.”

“Same thing.” Annika shrugs. “When she married Papa, she made a promise. To the throne. Our government. Our country.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I didn’t.”

“Aww, poor Jadon.” She offers me a mocking frown. “Forced to live in a palace. Fly on private jets. He can have anything hewants. Two closets full of the latest and rarest sneakers, and all he has to do is not be a dick twenty-four seven.”

“That’s a pretty big demand.”

My response is met with a pillow to the head. “You can do this, Jade,” she insists. “You just have to get out of your own way.”

“Again, that’s a lot to ask.”

Annika puts her book down before pulling her legs under herself. Sunlight kisses her soft cheeks. She looks younger out here. Refreshed. I’ve missed seeing this side of my sister.

“Hear me out.” She waits until I look her in the eye. “What if being in America wasn’tallabout being un-banished?”

“Is that a word?”

“It is now. I’m the crown princess. I have the final say.” Before I can protest, she holds up a finger. “Think about it. While we’re here, you have a chance to be a teenager. Wasn’t that one of the goals? Being normal?”

Her words remind me of what Mom said:

Take advantage of this opportunity, Canelé.

I cross my arms. “What does normal even mean for us?”

“You’re always looking at those old photos of Mom,” she points out, like she knows what I was just thinking. “This is where she’s from. Explore more. Go do the things she did. Mom was in a bunch of school clubs, right?”

I shrug one shoulder. “I guess.”

She holds out her hand, palm up. “Give me your phone.”

I unlock the screen, checking if I have any incognito tabs left open before passing it over. She swipes around, thenraises an eyebrow. My neck starts to sweat—fuck, what was my last search?—but Annika quickly moves on.

“Boom!” She flips the screen around. “This is perfect.”

It’s Willow Wood’s newest Instagram post. Auditions for the upcoming fall theater production.

I read the first line of the caption out loud: “ ‘Willow Wood Academy proudly presents…CLUE!’Ew, are you serious?”

That’s her genius idea? Aplay? How will that solve my problems?

“Absolutely!” Annika is practically glowing. “Rehearsals. Costumes.Peer bonding. You can get to know more people.”

As if spending every morning with Morgan and company isn’t enough.

“Plus,” Annika adds, “your mediocre acting skills need work.”

“I’m not mediocre,” I say, offended.

She purses her lips, unconvinced.

I flip her off. “I’m athespian. Idris Elba has nothing on me. Those Willow Wood amateurs would be lucky to share a stage with—”

“Great,” Annika interrupts, rereading the post. “Auditions are Thursday afternoon. We can run lines tomorrow.”

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