Page 131 of American Royals

“If we get her drunk enough, then she might do something ridiculous. Something we could take photos of, to hold against her—threaten her that if she ever told Jefferson about us, we would show the photos to her parents.”

Ethan nodded. “They’re so strict with her, it just might work,” he agreed. “Fight blackmail with blackmail. Except …”

“Except it’s Himari, and we both know she won’t get drunk and do something incriminating,” Daphne finished for him. No matter how often people urged her to let loose, Himari never had more than a single glass of wine. She was too scared of her parents’ punishments. The one time they’d caught her and Daphne sipping wine coolers outside, they’d threatened to send Himari to a military school if she ever did it again.

Panic swept through Daphne, a harsh, cold panic that wiped all thoughts from her head.

It was only then, when her mind was brutally empty, that she knew her plan. It didn’t even feel like she’d come up with it, more like someone else had written it for her, in stark block letters, and now she was finally able to see.

“What is it?” Ethan prompted, reading her expression.

“We could make her seem drunk.”

“What are you suggesting, that we roofie her?” Ethan said it jokingly, but when Daphne didn’t laugh, his eyes widened in trepidation.

“Hear me out,” Daphne said quickly. “We could slip a little something in Himari’s drink—not a lot, just a minimum dosage. If she does say anything, it will seem like drunken incoherent ramblings. Or she might just pass out on the couch before she gets the chance. Everyone will think she drank too much, too quickly. And she obviously won’t be in any condition to rat on us. We take some photos of her, just to be safe—to hold over her head in the future.”

“Daphne. Please tell me you’re joking.”

So Ethan wasn’t going to help her. Fine, then. Daphne would do this on her own. The same way she did everything else.

“Never mind. You’re right,” she agreed, too quickly to be fully convincing. “I’ll find another way.”

But of course, there was only ever one way for Daphne. Onward and upward, just like always.

That night at the palace, she slipped a few ground-up sleeping pills into Himari’s drink.

It was easy, really; no one knew that Himari and Daphne were feuding. All Daphne had to do was ask another girl to please hand this glass of wine to her friend.

Himari grew instantly, visibly drunker, her words louder and more pointed, and then a few minutes later she retreated to a sitting room. Daphne stood near the doorway with Jefferson, watching as Himari tilted her head back onto the expensive pillows of the couch, her eyes fluttering shut.

The party ebbed and flowed around Himari for several hours. Daphne saw Jefferson’s protection officer frowning at Himari’s sleeping form, but he never made a move to do anything, which Daphne found reassuring. He was medically trained—if Himari was in danger, wouldn’t he say something?

As the night wore on and people grew drunker, the passed-out girl became something of a meme. People posed for selfies with her, making a thumbs-up in front of Himari, whose mouth was open, a stream of drool falling onto the couch. Daphne wasn’t surprised. Himari had always been snobbish and inscrutable, and humiliation of the proud was one of mankind’s favorite sources of entertainment.

She knew from Ethan’s angry looks that he’d figured out what she’d done. But she did her best to keep him at a distance. She had enough to worry about right now without his self-righteous accusations.

Finally, later in the night, he found her alone.

“I can’t believe you,” Ethan whispered, jerking his head toward Himari.

Daphne shrugged. She knew this was an absurd plan, but what other choice did she have? Her reputation, her relationship, was on the line.

“She’s going to be fine. Her pride will be a little bruised, but she’ll survive that. I really am watching her,” Daphne added, in a plaintive voice. No matter what Himari had said, no matter that she’d thrown away their years of friendship like a pile of trash, Daphne would never truly hurt her.

Ethan cast Daphne a curious, inscrutable look.

“What are you going to do, tell on me?” she demanded, her chin tipped up in challenge.

“You know I wouldn’t.” He paused. “You’re terrifying, though.” The way he said it, it sounded oddly like a compliment.

“Terrifyingly brilliant,” Daphne amended.

A laugh rumbled deep in Ethan’s chest. For an instant, Daphne felt herself wondering what it would be like to feel that laughter—really feel it, her body tucked up against Ethan’s, skin to skin. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he told her.

“I think you know better than to ever try.”

They had drifted wordlessly into the other room, toward the table of drinks, only to stall partway there. Daphne forced herself to ignore the flickering sensation that Ethan’s gaze kindled in her chest.