Page 32

THIRTY-TWO

ROSE

By Monday afternoon, the Valentine’s Day photos are everywhere. And not, unfortunately, the quite convincing couple photos of Alfie and me. Rather, other photos, taken by the public, from their area across the traffic cones. Between the dozens of people filming us at any given moment, they’ve captured every slipup. From Danni and me meeting eyes across the ice, to the look of fear on my face when she fell, to me lifting her head off the ice. And though most of these moments lasted a second or two at most—a longing glance, a micro-expression—when captured in still-frame, they last a lifetime.

It’s not only one or two accounts posting these ones, either. It may have started out that way, but while the last round of speculation online failed to take off, this time multiple people are starting to listen. It’s the subject of multiple forum discussions, and theory videos, and personal essays, and trashy tabloid articles.

PRINCESS ROSEMARY’S PRIVATE SCHOOL PASSION

WHO IS DANNI BLYTHE? HERE’S WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT PRINCESS ROSEMARY’S RUMORED LESBIAN LOVER!

“DANNI SLEEPS IN PRINCESS ROSEMARY’S BED AT THE PALACE”: ROYAL INSIDER SPILLS ALL

People are talking on social media, too, now. Quite a lot of them. Danni grimly passes her phone to me while we wait outside history class to show me the dozens of notifications and message requests she’s received since lunchtime alone. Even Molly pulls us aside to show us the barrage of comments on her posts asking about Danni and me.

The rumor is finally sprouting roots now that it has ideal growing conditions. It’s one thing for the princess to be a little too close to a girl from her school. But the princess being a little too close to Danni Blythe—a name that both Molly’s fans and royalists are starting to recognize? That is rather more interesting.

It’s beginning to feel as though the universe itself is conspiring to complicate my relationship with Danni.

William calls me during class, and I return his call the moment I leave my Italian tutoring session.

“Rose,” he says, picking up on the first ring. “It’s time to be honest with me.”

I would really rather not. “What about?” I ask innocently.

“Enough people are speculating around you and Danni Blythe that the papers want to pick up the story.”

“What?” I ask sharply.

“I’m handling it, but this is exactly the sort of thing I could have prepared for if you’d told me about Danni to begin with.” He’s not even asking me to confirm it anymore, I realize. As far as he’s concerned, it’s fact. This seems an overreaction based on the—again—limited evidence. Does he simply know me that well? Or has he seen this sort of thing often enough to confidently piece the truth together? “I don’t ask for transparency because I’m nosy about your personal life, Rose. It’s so I can do my job . And you are making that much more difficult than it should be.”

I want to tell him I’m sorry, if only reflexively, but I’m not. I’m not sorry for refusing to out Danni to him, nor am I sorry for seeking one skerrick of privacy. So, instead, I ask what I really want to know. “Do my parents know?”

“About the rumors? Rose, I’m sure even the prime minister knows at this point. Regardless, we’ve shut down the story in all of the tabloids that matter. If the smaller ones run their story, well, no one truly finds any of them reputable. We’re also working with the Daily Horizon to give a new angle to the Valentine’s Day story. Just to warn you, there will be an insider source statement that you and Alfie have begun to discuss a possible engagement.”

“I’m sorry—we what?”

William’s reply is cold. “Perhaps if I’d had more notice, it wouldn’t be necessary, but at present we need a louder story to distract from the speculation. It gives them a bone to chew on for a while, and hopefully this online nonsense will die down sooner rather than later.”

My head is reeling. “An engagement,” I repeat. “Do my parents know this plan?”

“Your parents know, as you should, that a white lie is both necessary and sufficient in situations like this. It’s inconsequential to you; all you need to do is ignore it. If an engagement doesn’t eventuate, people will simply assume the source was ill-informed.”

“ If one doesn’t eventuate?” I laugh. “I’m seventeen, William.”

“ When, then, Rose. Please, let’s not focus on semantics while I’m using quite a lot of my brain space to douse out a fire you started. When will you learn some self-control?”

I hardly know how to reply. “Is there anything I can do for now?” I ask, stamping on my wounded feelings until they flatten.

“Yes. Stay away from cameras, for goodness’ sake. And keep your distance from Danni Blythe. At least until this dies down.”

I sit down hard on my bed, and I’m still sitting there half an hour later when Danni comes to visit.

“I’m even paranoid coming onto your floor now,” she complains in a hushed tone once she closes the door. “It feels like everyone’s monitoring us. I’m afraid to walk past someone on the stairs.”

We climb onto my bed, and she nestles into my arms as we lie side by side. “I spoke to William earlier,” I say. “He and my parents have already decided they believe the rumors. They’re telling the papers Alfie and I are going to be engaged soon.”

“Oh, joy.”

“Mmm.” I start stroking her upper arm, and she burrows closer to me. All I can smell is her body wash, and all I can feel is her warmth, and even with everything that’s going on, I’m already more relaxed now that I’m holding her.

“I’m afraid,” I tell her. “I’m scared that things are snowballing, and I don’t know how to rein it in. Even when I have the best of intentions, I always say or do the wrong thing. I fear I’m going to lose you, and we’ll both pay the price, and it will be my fault.”

“How is this your fault?”

“I’m too impulsive. I keep acting without thinking. I should’ve let Edmund help you when you fell. I know better.”

“Yeah, you really should’ve left me on the ground to rot. You’re the worst girlfriend I’ve ever had.” I smile reluctantly, and she presses her lips against the crook of my neck softly. Her hair tickles my skin. “And so what if they do tell us we can’t be together?” she asks. “Who says we have to listen to them? Just tell them you’ve ended things. They have no proof either way.”

I shift my head to rest my chin on her hair. “It’s not that easy,” I murmur. “If they want you gone, you’ll be gone. They can get your scholarship handed to someone else.” She stiffens in my arms. “Or perhaps your mum will conveniently get a job offer she can’t refuse back in the States. Or you’ll get a surprise call from, oh I don’t know, Julliard offering to have you start a year early.”

“Hey, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Danni jokes, and I dig my thumb into her armpit, causing her to squeal. “We’re going to be okay,” she says when she sobers back up. “We’re still learning. They can’t expect us to be perfect from the get-go, neither of us have ever had a secret relationship yet.” She pauses. “Well, I haven’t, anyway. And if you have, maybe you need to give me your tips from last time, because you kept that super secret.”

“Ahh, if I told you about my last girlfriend, I’d have to kill you.”

“That’s one way to shut these rumors down.”

I snort, and she throws an arm around my middle and squeezes. I wonder absently what I ever did to deserve someone so perfect. Certainly nothing in this lifetime.

Or perhaps that’s the point. She must be perfect, so when I lose her, it hurts as much as I deserve.