Page 6 of Prince of the Palisades

I laugh as the door clicks shut. A weight lifts from my chest.Annika has my back. By the Sunset Ball, I’ll prove Papa—the world—wrong about me.

Whatever it takes.

My phone buzzes on the rug. I roll and stretch to scoop it up. The first notification is a new article.

I click on it. The headline hits me in big, bold, capitalized letters:

THE GOLDEN STATE WELCOMES RÉVERIE’S GOLDEN BOY!

2

EXCLUSIVE: From Shore to Shore, Royalty Joins California’s Elite

Surprise! America just got a lot more regal as Prince Jadon, 17, is staying stateside—and going to school! “It has always been His Royal Highness’s intention to go abroad and spend quality time in the area his mother, Queen Ava, spent her youth,” Centauri Palace tellsPeople. Princess Annika, 21, is confirmed to be accompanying her brother.

The news comes after Jadon recently made headlines for a controversial video. Palace officials assure, “His Royal Highness is eager to move past any unfortunate narratives about him or the crown. He’s looking forward to acquainting himself with America and his peers.”

Before she was queen, my mom was simply Ava Gilbert from Long Beach. Photographic evidence confirms she was an ambitious teen. Prom queen and debate club president andvaledictorian. She attended her dream college, the University of Southern California. But one trip to Paris, a graduation gift from my grandparents, changed her entire life.

“I was gonna be a teacher,” she told me, years ago. “Then I met your papa and, well.”

It’s insufferable—the way Mom gets when she tells the story. Shimmering eyes, heart in her throat while describing their meet-cute: a last-minute amateur baking class they both signed up for. Papa approaching her with flour-stained cheeks, a shy smile.

Gross.

Buthere—this is where Mom discovered who she was.

We’ve taken family trips to California. When I was much younger. My grandparents have since moved. Papa bought them a farm in Arkansas where they could escape the constant attention, start fresh. They visit us twice a year in Réverie.

I wonder if they miss their lives here before a crown interrupted everything.

I wonder why Mom never visits California anymore.

As our SUV glides through neighborhoods lined with towering palm trees and spidery elms, I thumb through old photos of Mom on my phone. Nothing from online—the palace forced her to delete any social media accounts not linked to them. Nana sent these to me.

My mom, sitting poolside with neon-framed sunglasses and chunky ’80s-style gold earrings. Laughing with friends at parties. Playing Helena inA Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I don’t know what it’s like to enjoy a camera lens. To live so carefree.

“Your Highness?”

I lift my head. “Yes?”

Next to me in the roomy backseat, Samuel swipes the screen of one of his many smart devices. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Real quick”—I slide my phone into the inside pocket of my blazer—“can we cut back on the formalities? We’re not in the palace. Or even in public. When it’s just us, call me Jadon.”

Samuel nods toward the passenger seat.

“Ajani doesn’t count.” I roll my eyes. “She’s family.”

I ignore her sigh of protest. She’s at my side nearly twenty-four seven. I see her more than my parents. That’s family.

“If you insist, Your High—I mean,Jadon,” Samuel corrects after I flex an eyebrow. “Do you agree with what I said?”

“Of course.” I straighten my tie. “But for refresher purposes,whatwere we discussing?”

Samuel looks two seconds from frowning, but refrains. “Building a community with your peers at Willow Wood?”

---