Page 66 of American Royals II: Majesty
“Sorry,” Samantha muttered. “I mean—this whole thing is kind of weird.”
“First of all, a princess never acknowledges when something is weird. She just suffers silently through the weirdness without pointing it out,” Daphne admonished.
“Oh my god, who told youthat?”
“I read it in an etiquette book. Probably the same one you were supposed to read years ago, but never got around to.”
Sam shrugged, acknowledging the truth of it, just as the door swung inward.
“Sam? I heard you were in here—” Jefferson broke off at the sight of Daphne. “Oh, hey, Daphne. What are you guys up to?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Samantha said automatically, but Daphne heard the note of concern beneath. The princess was clearly worried about her brother.
Jefferson leaned an elbow against the doorway. “I was thinking we could get a group together and go to Phil’s later. They have that new DJ in from London. I already invited JT and Rohan,” he added, pointedly leaving out Ethan’s name.
Samantha nodded. “Works for me.”
The prince turned to Daphne. “You’ll come too, right?”
“I’d love to,” she said, gratified that events were playing out exactly as she’d planned.
Shehad done this: by passing that scoop to Natasha, and insisting that the reporter call Jefferson directly with the news. In one fell swoop, she’d robbed Jefferson of two of the people he’d trusted most.
And the more isolated he felt, the easier it would be for Daphne to win him back. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d betrayed him.
Jefferson mumbled a goodbye, and Daphne turned back to his sister. “So. Where should we begin?”
“No idea.” Samantha shook her head. “This is probably why everyone thinks I’m useless at being the spare.”
“Actually, you were pretty good at being the spare. But you’re the heir now, and that’s what’s causing you problems.” When Sam shot her a puzzled look, Daphne tried to explain. “Being the spare is all about being a foil to the heir.”
“Are you saying that when I act out, it’s a good thing, because it makes Beatrice look better by comparison?”
“I’m saying that when you were the spare, you existed as a counterpoint to your sister. Don’t you know that Beatrice is at her most likeable when she’s in interviews with you and Jefferson? When she’s alone she can come off too…rehearsed, and a little stiff,” Daphne said delicately. “But when she’s with you two, like in those fireside chats your family always does around the holidays, America sees another side of her.”
Samantha blinked, as if she’d never thought of that. “Except now everything’s changed,” she muttered. “Jeff is the spare, andI’mthe heir.”
“Well, yes. Those are different roles. You haven’t been trained as first in line—and, really, you shouldn’t have needed to be,” Daphne added softly.
If the succession had proceeded on a happier timeline—if the king had never gotten cancer, had lived another thirty years—Beatrice would have been succeeded by her own children, not by her sister.
No child who grew up second in line for the throne should ever become first in line. If they did, it meant that something had gone horribly, tragically wrong.
“Let’s do a little practice talking to reporters. Here, I’ll give you an easy one,” Daphne said briskly. “How does it feel, being the maid of honor for your sister’s wedding?”
“It’ll be fun,” Sam offered.
Daphne tilted her head expectantly, waiting for Sam to say something else. When she didn’t, Daphne groaned. “That’s it? ‘It’ll be fun’?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What on earth is a reporter supposed to do withthree words? Samantha, you have to give them something they canuse.”
“I could have said something much worse,” the princess observed, and Daphne let out a breath.
“Here’s the thing about reporters. All they want is to write a story that will make them money. Whileyouwant them to write a story that’s flattering.” Daphne had figured that out long ago; it was why she and Natasha got along so well. “Your job is to make those goals one and the same. If you can give them a story that makes you look good and sells copies, they have no reason to attack you.”
“Maybe,” Samantha said, unconvinced. “But they’re pretty attached to the party princess version of me. I doubt they’re going to start giving me positive coverage anytime soon.”
