Page 125 of American Royals
A reporter stood before St. Stephen’s Hospital, one hand stuffed into the pocket of her black peacoat and the other clutching a microphone. “To all the viewers just now joining us, we have been covering this unfolding story since two a.m. Eastern time, when the king was rushed to the hospital after his daughter Beatrice’s engagement party. The palace has not yet issued an official statement about his condition. All we know is that His Majesty is being treated in the intensive care unit of St. Stephen’s.”
Nina shook her head. “I saw him last night at the party, and he seemed fine. He even danced with the queen for a while! How could this happen?”
The king was always so vibrant, with that booming, larger-than-life laugh. It seemed impossible that illness could strike someone so utterly alive.
“It just happened,” Julie said softly. “There’s no how or why for this kind of tragedy. No explanation. Not everything gets to make sense.”
Nina fumbled in her pocket for her phone and dialed Sam’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. She wondered how her friend was holding up, how Jeff was holding up.
This was the worst kind of tragedy, wasn’t it—the kind you didn’t see coming. Some things, like breakups or fights with your best friend, you could at least prepare for. But there was no bracing yourself for something like this: for the heart attack that struck at random, mere hours after your daughter’s engagement party.
“Do you remember the day he was crowned?” Isabella’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Vaguely.” They had staked out a spot on the edge of the parade route, eager to catch a glimpse of the new king and queen. Nina recalled clutching a small American flag on a wooden stick and waving it furiously, remembered buying a cherry snow cone from a street vendor and licking its syrupy sweetness from her fingers.
“Strangers were talking to strangers, everyone acting as though the entire capital had become one giant street festival.” Isabella still held a tissue in her hands. She began folding it over and over into an ever-shrinking triangle. “I never thought I would get the chance to actually work for him, and then …” She sighed. “He’s been such a good king.”
A chill ran down Nina’s spine at the finality of her mamá’s words. It sounded as though she was already mourning him. “We don’t know what’s going on. He might make a full recovery.”
“The palace hasn’t made any statement. That’s not a good sign,” her mamá countered. Well, she of all people knew the inner workings of the palace infrastructure.
Nina thought again of the twins. Of the entire royal family, huddled together in one of those bleak waiting rooms, waiting for good news that might never come.
“You should go to St. Stephen’s,” Julie chimed in, as if reading her daughter’s mind. “I know Jeff and Samantha could use a friendly face right now.”
Nina hated the thought of letting her best friend go through this alone. But there was no way she could face the prince right now. “Mom, no. I can’t.”
“I know it’ll be weird, seeing Jeff after last night,” her mom said gently. “But you should be there for Sam’s sake.”
Nina knew her mom was right. But then she thought of last night, of how Jeff had automatically taken Daphne’s side. How easily it had apparently been for him, to walk away from their relationship.
“You don’t understand. It wasn’t exactly a normal breakup.”
“That makes sense, given that your relationship was hardly normal.”
Nina could only nod in agreement, pulling a pillow onto her lap to hug it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” her mom went on. When Nina didn’t answer right away, she tried again. “It just seemed like you and Jeff were so happy together. I can’t understand what came between you.”
It wasn’t what came between us, Nina thought, but who. The glamorous, insidious Daphne Deighton, getting what she wanted, just like always.
Nina took a breath and told her parents everything that had happened.
When she finished, her mamá’s face was mottled with anger. “How dare she. I always knew there was something off about that girl—what a little—”
“I feel sorry for her,” her mom cut in. “She’s clearly lost sight of reality.”
Nina nodded. “That’s what makes her so dangerous. There’s nothing she won’t do in order to get what she wants.”
“Let me get this straight,” Isabella went on, pulling one leg up to cross it over the other. “You’re giving up, just because Jeff’s terrible ex-girlfriend cornered you in a bathroom and said some nasty things?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m just sick of it all: the paparazzi attention, the way the palace kept butting into our relationship. The fact that I had to dress differently if I wanted to be with him. Everything Daphne said was simply the icing on the cake.”
Her parents’ eyes met over her head. Nina could practically feel their indecision, the silent messages crossing and colliding between them.
“Nina, I would be lying if I said we were thrilled when you first told us that you and the prince were dating,” her mamá began—which was a generous way to phrase it, given that they’d found out from the tabloids. “But it was also clear to us that you and Jeff really cared about each other. That kind of feeling doesn’t come along very often. It’s worth fighting for, worth defending. Especially from people like Daphne.”
Nina shifted. “Fight Daphne? You don’t understand what she’s like.”
