Page 39 of Prince of the Palisades

“Whatever.” He flips me off. “New idea, Your Royal Arrogance—”

“Shouldn’t it be Your Royal Dimple-ness?”

He ignores my baiting. “We need a change of scenery.”

After securing Headmaster Parker’s permission, Reiss switches locations: Willow Wood’s Olympic-level outdoor swimming pool. Ajani accompanies us, sitting in the spectator stands. Reiss resets the equipment. He only brought the essentials. The camera setup, headphones, other small tools I still can’t identify.

“Shooting outdoors is better,” he tells me.

“Is it?”

“Natural light looks good on you…I mean,on camera.”

I grin smugly. “Are you going to show me where to stand?”

He does. Unfortunately, without the touching this time. He uses something called spike tape to mark a spot on the concrete, near the pool’s ledge.

“This is more in your element,” he says as I get into position. “Being closer to the water. It’ll help.”

He’s right. There’s something about the cloudless sky. Sunlight glittering off the pool’s surface as golden hour approaches.

I picture Réverie. The soft, sun-warm sand along the shores. Swaying branches on the fig trees in the palace garden. Clothes perfumed in fresh vanilla and spicy cloves after spending hours in the kitchens. Mom’s laughter as I force her to learn a new online dance or Papa quietly telling me stories about our country.

Somewhere between the memories, I start talking. The things I like about Willow Wood. Instead of my practiced, fake grin, a real smile settles in. My eyes never leave the camera. Never leave Reiss.

It only takes a handful of takes, some angle changes. A brief pause when the wind picks up. Before I realize it, we’re finished.

“It’ll need some editing,” Reiss says as he sidles up to me to play back all the best parts, “but not bad for a prince.”

I snort. “I’m not sure you got my prettiest side.”

“Shut up,” he groans.

“No, seriously. You can barely see my dimples—”

“Glad His Royal Arrogance survived one afternoon with me.” He lowers the camera. “It must’ve been so hard.”

It wasn’t. What’s difficult is not getting lost in his dark eyes.The way one side of his grin is higher than the other.

I’m so close to thanking him for helping me get past my insecurities today, when a screeching voice shouts, “We did it!”

I whip around as Karan comes jogging into the pool area.

He stops in front of us, flashing his phone. “Watch out, Hollywood!”

I lean in. Stare at the screen. It’s a graphic on Willow Wood Theater’s web page. A casting announcement. For some reason, I forgot Dr. Garza Villa mentioned the list would be out this week. But there it is:

Karan Sharma as Wadsworth.

“Bro.” Reiss shakes him. “That’s you! Holy shit. We love a murder king.”

Karan tips his head into the sun, beaming.

Genuine happiness fills my chest. I don’t know him that well—at all, really—but it’s obvious how much he wanted this. How much hedeservedit.

“Congratulations,” I say. “You were incredible.”

“Wewere.” He’s still pointing at his phone. Farther down the list—

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