Page 53 of Prince of the Palisades

All eyes are on Prince Jadon. He’s the brooding bad boy royal making headlines and crushing hearts globally.TeenBuzzsat down with him to learn everything about him. From his fav TV series to his love for pop band Moonglow to what an American boy must do (and what not to do) to win his heart!

“Are all your dates like this?”

I smile sheepishly at Reiss. We’re standing on Ocean Avenue. Under the blue-and-yellow arch leading to Santa Monica Pier. It’s the first place I thought of after last night. Where Mom always wanted to take me.

A perfect first date with Reiss.

Next to me, a throat clears. “I look ridiculous.”

Correction: a perfect first date with ReissandAjani.

I twist to face her. “You look fine.”

She’s dressed in yoga pants, an “I♥Beach Life” T-shirtunder a blazer, designer sunglasses, and a bucket hat to hide her instantly recognizable hairstyle. On a late Saturday afternoon, the foot traffic around the pier is heavy. We need to blend in.

Reiss eyes me, smirking. “Sweet threads.”

The fact that I’m wearinghisyellow hoodie, the one he gave me after the pool incident, is a complete coincidence. It complements my joggers and retro Lakers Dunks, the purple rib-knit beanie covering my curls. No other reason.

I ignore the fire spreading up my neck. “I’ve always wanted to visit the pier.”

Crinkly-eyed, he says, “Let me show you around.”

He navigates us through the crowd, down a steep hill. The moment we step onto the pier’s worn wooden surface, Santa Monica blooms around us. Cloudless azure sky. Cool air soaked in salt and a heady spicy-sweetness from all the food vendors. The afternoon’s soundtrack is a mash of screams from the Pacific Park amusement rides, seagulls mewing, and waves crashing.

Golden sunbeams accentuate Reiss’s smile. “You have to try this.”

This: a freshly made tamale from a bright red food cart.

This: a cup of mango slices sprinkled with Tajin seasoning.

This: a Wagyu beef hot dog with seaweed, teriyaki sauce, and Japanese mayo. I shamelessly bite into it. Reiss’s laugh when sauce drips from my chin is like a burst of dopamine.

“Sorry,” I moan, still chewing. “It’s incredible.” Another bite. “I can’t stop.”

“I have good taste.” His eyes linger on me.

I hide my smile behind a napkin. “What’s next?”

He leads me over to the chipped blue railing overlooking the shore. We fit between friends taking selfies and an old man watching birds soar. The horizon stretches forever. Sunlight smears a gilded band across the teal water. My breath hitches.

“What?” Reiss asks.

The ache in my chest is loud. “It reminds me of Réverie.”

We lean against the railing together. His elbow presses to mine, telling me to go on.

“How peaceful the sea is,” I say. “Like walks with my mom. Or when my papa would tell me stories passed down from the elders.”

“What’s it like? In Réverie?”

“Breathtaking sunsets.” I smile almost absently. “Mountains to the west. Never-ending beaches. The stars—do you know how the palace got its name?”

He shakes his head, self-conscious. “They don’t teach us much outside of US history. A lot of European history too. But not yours.”

“Of course not,” I huff. “Centauri Palace was named after Omega Centauri. The constellation. When my people were at war for their freedom—when their struggle was nearly unbearable—the elders would sayLook to the stars. Omega was the clearest constellation in the night sky.” My heart thuds with pride, remembering how Papa would recite this story. “They promised that every generation would remember what they did. Just like we remember the stars.”

Awe widens his eyes. As if he’s hungry for more.

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