Page 7 of The Dandelion Princess
“There’s something you’re hiding,” he answers.
“When you’re ready to tell me whichever chain-smoking model you’re ready to make my next queen, I’ll tell you about Jang Mi.”
I roll the ball from my fingers and toss it to him. He takes my spot, but the ball dings off the rim. “S.”
“Speaking of fundraisers… Tell me how to thank your sister. Ella drove a lot of donations to Seongan relief.” I am trying too hard to sound casual, and I throw an unforgivably wild ball, missing an easy jump shot.
He makes a layup. “She had me call in a lawyer to work out the tax implications. Her single-mindedness has been driving our mother insane.”
I follow him, but the ball rebounds off the rim with a thunk.
“S,” he says, grinning.
“She didn’t just cut a check. She rounded up well-connected friends to spread the message—and then there were all thosesocial media posts…” Her help extended to sending late-night texts back and forth with her brother’s oldest friend, listening to my worries, offering practical suggestions for broadening our media reach. Noah wants to know how I spent my time in Seong?Iknow.
I clear my throat and check the heavy locks on the area in my mind designated “Friend Zone”. I simply want to make sure Ella gets credit with a family that never seems to give her enough. “I owe her one.”
Noah stands at the free throw line and it swishes the ball through the net. “Yeah? Can I call in a favor?”
“You’re not Ella,” I say, dribbling the ball to the line. My mind flinches away from thinking about all the ways his sister is different.
“It’sforElla.”
“Ask.” I position my throw, square up. I dribble and adjust my grip.
“How do I put this?” Noah wonders. “She’s struggling.”
The ball stills in my hands. “Is she still mad?”
“Hey,” Noah breaks my concentration. I look up. “What makes you say that?”
I blink and I’m back there, crawling into my bed at the end of every day, scrolling through her messages.
Ella: *covert picture of Noah in front of a slideshow* Can you talk him out of being SO excited to discuss venison harvesting on the Crown lands? *Bambi emoji, skull emoji, vomit emoji*
Ella: I got you a chainsaw. (An entire shipping container of chainsaws, tbh, and enough petrol to power them for a year.) Yours is hot pink. Happy birthday!
Ella:*edit of NGO directors skipping down the street tossing money out of their baskets* Hope tomorrow goes well! I’m praying.
Ella: Merry Christmas! Don’t ask about Freja. I saw that photo of Amma in muddy overalls and red lipstick when she met the U.N. aid envoy. Was he checking her out?
I blink and the memories retreat. “Of course she’s mad,” I answer, rolling the ball in my grip. “Her twin got married without her.”
Noah laces his fingers behind his head. “Freja is the only thing she’ll admit being mad about.” He glances over to a couple of the housekeeping staff doing pilates and drops his voice. “Things are bad. Mama and Père are still—” He makes a slicing motion with his hand. “All our sisters are pairing off. She and I are the last survivors, and there’s a lot of pressure on the both of us.”
I dribble the ball. Keep my knees soft. Stay loose. I feel it in my chest—the way it tightens when I think she’s sad or hurt or worried. “What am I supposed to do about it?” I aim, bouncing on my toes.
“She’s been relieved of official duties this spring in order to be your sister’s maid of honor.”
Hell.Flamenhell. I need to keep my distance. “Can you afford that?”
“I don’t think we can afford not to. It’s not a punishment, but my sister has always been a loose cannon and I’ve never seen her so upset. In this state, she could do anything—run off with a footman, start a revolution—and my family doesn’t need another PR crisis right now.”
My grip on the ball hardens. “What does this favor involve?”
“Nothing much. Since you’ll be so close, you can keep an eye on her for me—keep her out of trouble…” He grins. “Maybe let us know when to pack her off to a nunnery.”
A favorite Wolffe family solution. I dribble, every nerve in my body screaming for rest. It’s more than jetlag. Maybe I’m coming down with something.
