Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

ROSE

When I join Danni in her bedroom, wearing the baggy pair of sweatpants and scratchy hoodie she threw over the cubicle door for me, she’s still fighting laughter. “That’s a good look on you,” she says as I collapse on her bed.

“I panicked, ” I groan, face down.

“Well, yeah, I figured. Can we rewind? Tell me from the beginning; what, exactly, is going on?”

Taking and releasing a deep breath, I launch into a summary of everything William told me about the anonymous Bramppath tip.

“There’s more,” I say, pulling out my phone while Danni processes. I bring up the links William sent me, and the screenshot of comments beneath Molly’s video. I watch Danni with wary eyes as she scans them.

“Okay, this isn’t so bad,” she says, and the fact that she’s echoing my initial reaction to William calms me somewhat. “There’s, what, three different people who actually buy it? Everyone else is just asking them for evidence, and there isn’t any. They’ve got nothing on us.”

“For now,” I say, and Danni gives me a gentle look.

“We won’t give them anything,” she says, awfully sure of herself for someone who watched me literally throw myself inside a running shower only fifteen minutes ago to avoid detection. “It’s just speculation. Every celebrity gets queer shipping rumors. I’m surprised this is your first rodeo.”

“They do?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Oh my god, totally. As soon as you’re in the spotlight, there are people who’ll convince themselves you’re in a relationship with anyone you’ve been in the same room with. I mean, look at the Molly reference. Speculating about whether a celebrity is in the closet is one of the great pastimes of the online queer community,” she says sagely, before pausing and adding, “right up there with discussing at length about how terrible it is to speculate about people’s sexualities and agreeing as a group to never do it again.”

“You seem to know a lot about online queer communities.”

“I know plenty about queer communities. They just don’t know about me yet.”

“Okay, you may be right,” I say, and Danni beams.

“I’m so right. Relax. We’re fine.”

I smile back weakly. “Sorry I tore you out of the shower. I just worried when William called. I’m supposed to hide this for a lifetime, and the thought that I may have already stumbled not weeks after getting my first girlfriend—” I cut myself off when I notice Danni’s face, and that’s when I realize what I’ve just said. My face burns and prickles as I scramble for a way to recover. “I mean, not that we’ve… not girlfriend .”

“A lifetime?” Danni repeats.

“Well, princesses obviously can’t be lesbians,” I say offhandedly. “Not when they’re next in line. I know we haven’t discussed labels for us,” I plow on. “So please don’t think I’m rushing you, or pressuring you. I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know how it works.”

How does one know when one has a girlfriend? Is the term automatically applied after a certain amount of time has passed? Does one propose? Are there gifts involved? Because I can sort that out if need be. Only if Danni’s open to the idea, of course. Which… certainly doesn’t seem to be the case… because she’s staring at me with an expression that can only be described as abject horror.

“So, you’re never gonna tell anyone you’re a lesbian?” she asks.

My heart skips a beat at her tone. Why is she acting as though this is brand-new information? “My parents know.”

“But no one else can?” she asks. “Not ever?”

I falter, trying to understand the confusion. Surely it goes without saying that I can’t come out publicly. Or does she mean within close circles? “I’m able to share it with people on a need-to-know basis,” I say carefully. “I do intend to tell some friends eventually. But it’s difficult to navigate. I need to be certain they’ll keep it secret even if our friendship fails.”

Would Molly, for example? Keep my secret? I believe she would. But would I be willing to gamble my future on it?

“They’d need to keep it secret forever,” Danni says. “Because you will never come out publicly.”

“I… no,” I say, dazed. “I thought you knew that.”

She raises her hands in a weak, uncertain gesture. “I figured you weren’t gonna do it, like, tomorrow. But…”

“But what?” I ask. “Why do I need to come out? I’m happy. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, I think.”

Danni’s curled her hands into fists, so tight she’s white-knuckled. “You don’t need to come out. You don’t need to do anything. But I don’t think I’m cool with hiding this forever. I mean, that’s a long time.”

My immediate instinct is to point out that, as much as I like her—and I do very much like her, more than I’ve liked anybody in my life—it’s hasty to be even considering the implications of forever right now. For goodness’ sake, a few minutes ago I was panicking she would think I was moving things too fast by calling us girlfriends. But wording it like that might come across as quite a bit more hurtful than I mean it to. “I think,” I say, “it’s best to take things day by day for now. There’s no point in borrowing troubles from tomorrow. Does this matter today? Are you upset that we’re hiding today?”

“No,” she says reluctantly, and I’m encouraged.

“See? You’re not even out yourself, right?”

Danni nods at the floor. I feel terrible that she didn’t realize the strings that come with being involved with me. Stupidly, I’d assumed it didn’t need to be clarified. The sky is blue, we breathe oxygen to live, it’s the queen’s job to marry a man and produce an heir. But Danni didn’t grow up here. How could I have expected her to know the truths I take for granted? It was my responsibility to make sure she knew what kissing me meant, right from the start.

“Do you have any questions?” I ask.

She doesn’t hesitate. “So, you’re gonna marry a man someday?”

“Yes.”

“Then what? You break it off with… whoever you’re seeing?”

“No. When I marry, it’ll be to somebody who understands the terms. My marriage will be for show, and hopefully friendship, but it won’t be the same as my life partner.”

“But why?” she asks. “You’ll be the queen eventually, right? You call the shots.”

“I’ll be the queen of a majority-Catholic country. A country which has already come right to the precipice of abolishing the monarchy altogether recently.”

Danni doesn’t look convinced. “Well, if they decide to do that because of who you are, that’s not your fault. Besides, you can’t tell me there’s never been a king or queen who decided not to marry and have children before.”

With anybody else, the questioning might come across as criticism of me, and I may have grown defensive. Danni, however, manages to maintain a gentle enough tone that it feels like a conversation rather than an interrogation.

“There have been,” I say. “And their family line has ended with them.”

My words don’t appear to have the impact on her they have on me. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says carefully, “but so what?”

“So… centuries of my family standing at the head of the country, only for the history books to forever note it ended with me?” I say. “It’s out of the question. I would step aside before I allowed that to happen. My uncle or cousin could take my place.”

“Okay, so, again… why wouldn’t you do that?”

“Because it’s what I’ve been raised for. It’s the future I’ve always seen for myself. I have things I want to do when I’m queen. With that position, I could do some good. I could make my family proud.”

I might even, one day, become someone I’m proud of myself.

“Why should I give that up?” I finish.

“Because you’re talking about hiding who you are for the rest of your life so you can rule a country you think wouldn’t want you as you are. Where do your needs come into things?”

“They don’t,” I say dryly. “It’s famously part of the job description. Besides, it’s not as though I have to give up on love altogether. I just have to be discreet.”

“And what does that look like, exactly? Weekend booty calls? Or will your side piece live in the palace with you?”

I told Danni she could ask questions, I know, but I don’t have an answer to this one yet. I run my tongue over my teeth. “I think,” I say evenly, “that’s a conversation I would have with whomever I’m committed to at the time.”

Now it’s Danni’s turn to look ashamed of herself. I didn’t mean for her to be. She’s just trying to understand what this all means. What, exactly, a future with me would look like.

It’s not a nice feeling, though, considering all the ways in which I will fail the girl I love one day. How much worse her life will be for loving me rather than anybody else.

“Rose…” Danni says heavily. “I’m new here. I know some things, but I don’t know everything. So I need you to be honest with me. I know Henland’s Catholic. But I’ve seen attitudes change in religious areas before, even in my lifetime. Don’t you think there’s any chance that they might accept a queen who’s with a woman? Even if it’s not today. Maybe ten years from now?”

From her tone, it’s clear she is all but pleading with me to agree with her. She wants me to give her something to cling to—even if it’s only a shred of hope.

But she asked me to be honest.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

She presses her fingertips to her temple. “What’s the point, then? If I know I’m not okay with being a secret forever, why would we even start anything at all?” She’s turning pink now—I suppose she hears the implication just as I do—but she continues. “I’m not saying we’re gonna marry one day. I know it’s early, and we’re not really anything right now. But what I’m saying is, if there is no possible way this can end happily, then I just… isn’t it smarter to end things now? Before one of us gets hurt?”

I think it’s a rhetorical question, but I ignore that. “No.”

“No?” she repeats dully. “Based on what?”

“Based on… the fact that I want to be with you. I don’t want this to end.”

“But it will end, ” she points out. “It’s not like if we did happen to stay together indefinitely that I’d just get over it one day and be cool with my girlfriend hiding me in a room while she married someone else. I will never be cool with that, Rose.”

“So, let it end later, then.”

“Oh, yeah, great idea, let’s get emotionally invested in each other first, so it hurts even worse.”

“People break up all the time. Most relationships don’t last forever, but people start them anyway. What’s the difference?”

“Being in a relationship that doesn’t work out is life. Getting into a relationship you know won’t work is masochism.”

“But we’ll have now,” I say, leaning forward. “Danni, I want to be with you. Being around you makes everything feel good. It’s something wonderful. Isn’t it better to have something wonderful for a while, even if one day we have to say goodbye to it, than to never have it at all?”

I can tell from her expression that my words aren’t having nearly the impact I wanted them to, and I grow cold. Her eyes are glassy as she replies. “I want to be with you, too. I don’t want to end this. But we’ve barely started seeing each other, and the thought of going back to being friends hurts.”

“So we stay together. ”

“It really goddamn hurts, Rose,” she says over me. “So, I can’t even imagine how much it’d hurt to do this later. I can’t do that to myself. I won’t. And you deserve someone who will stay.”

I don’t understand it. How did we get here? One moment we were talking about rumors and strangers, and suddenly, we’re over. Just like that. What did I say wrong? Can I take it back? Can we start this conversation over from the top? There has to be a way to fix this. She can’t really mean she doesn’t want to be with me anymore, can she?

There must be something eloquent and convincing I can conjure to calm her fears in one fell swoop. I’ve been trained in conflict resolution more times than I can count. But my heart is beating too fast and loud, and my throat feels as though it’s about to cease letting air through at all, and the edges of my vision are blurry, so all I can manage is a simple, unconvincing, “But… please.”

Danni’s shaking her head before I even finish. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I snatch up her hands. I hold them tightly, tethering us.

“Don’t,” I beg. “Danni, don’t.”

“I have to. I don’t want to, either, but we have to.”

“At least sleep on it.”

“Please, this is already hard, don’t make it harder.”

“Well, I don’t intend on making it easier for you to leave me.”

“Rose, I’m sorry,” Danni says, and she lets go of my hands. “If I realized, I wouldn’t have started this at all. I’m so sorry. But we’re going to be okay, okay? I—I still care about you, and we’re going to stay friends, and we don’t even need to keep the whole space thing going. Molly knows we’re still hanging out, and she’s fine with it. We can just go back to the way things were at the start of the term, and it’s gonna hurt for a bit, but then it won’t hurt anymore, and we are both going to be fine. Okay? I promise.”

But I’ve stopped listening. It’s apparent her mind is set, and I have no say in things, and my fear and hurt are already ebbing away. Loose sand through parted fingers. I’m sure Danni’s right. A week or two from now, three at the most, we will simply be something that briefly occurred. If she only wants to be friends, then we will be friends. It doesn’t much matter, really. Nothing does, in the grand scheme of things. Everything starts, and everything ends, on and on like that for eternity, and feeling any particular way about it is a waste of emotion. The only thing that ever changes is the time that elapses between the two points. And perhaps Danni is right. Perhaps shorter is better.

I might as well face this new reality without flinching. I get to my feet and gather my wet clothes in a bundle. “Do you have a bag?” I ask. “I should probably hide these as I walk back.”

She gives me a funny look and then digs around in her wardrobe for a tote bag. “Are you okay?” she asks as she hands it to me.

“Of course,” I assure her. “I understand what you’re saying. Really.”

She’s studying me, her eyes flickering around my face as though she’s seen something quite alarming there. “Are you sure? You don’t seem okay.”

I think—it’s entirely possible—that she’s finally seen it. Whatever it was Molly saw. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, I suppose. With any luck, it’ll help her move on from me fast. I don’t want this to be hard for her. I don’t want her to hurt.

“I’m okay,” I insist, smiling, but from her reaction that only serves to disturb her more. “Let me know if you need anything, won’t you?”

“Sure,” she says uncertainly, and I give her a brisk nod.

“Have a good night,” I say as warmly as I can manage. With a straight back, I leave, and make my way back to my own room.

With every heavy step, I shove a silent scream out of my body and into the ground.

And I message Alfie as I walk. Your fake-dating idea. I say we do it.