Page 50 of Reign

As they approached Herald Oaks, Daphne felt her torso pressing against Ethan’s back, her body molding against his in a way that felt oddly steadying. His words echoed in her mind.Don’t worry, I’m on it.

Jefferson had told her the same thing at the doctor’s office, the day of the ultrasound—don’t worry,he’d assured her,it will all be okay.Somehow the sentiment felt different when coming from Ethan.

Perhaps because Ethan, unlike Jefferson, understood what Daphne was actually afraid of.

“What was it like in Malaysia?” she heard herself ask.

“Hot. And humid.”

“You know that’s not what I was asking.”

The sun was setting in a glorious liquid glow over the horizon, glinting on the rooftops. Daphne had never lived anywhere but here—in Washington, the city of energy and ambition, a city fueled by millions of people all chasing their own wants.

She wondered, suddenly, what it would feel like to leave.

“I liked Malaysia, but I was lonely.” Ethan’s voice rumbled back to her, barely audible over the hum of the bike. “There were things about home that I really missed.”

Daphne’s pulse echoed in her ears again. Probably an aftereffect of that car chase.

“Lonely, you? And here I thought you hated everyone.”

“Nah, just you,” he replied easily. “Why did you ask about Malaysia, anyway? Are you thinking of leaving Washington?”

She laughed. “Of course not. Why would I leave? Washington is the center of the world, and everything I ever wanted is right here.”

“Of course it is,” Ethan agreed flatly.

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride.

A hum of voices emanated from within Chancellor’s Hall, the rotunda at the center of the humanities buildings. Nina stood frozen before the wooden double doors, where a sign readEnglish Dept. Oxford Exchange Program: Info Session.

She hadn’t been planning on showing up today. Then, as the clock inched toward four p.m., she’d found herself changing into a navy sheath dress—ignoring that it was the sort of thing Daphne would wear—and crossing campus to the reception hall.

She was just gathering information, Nina reminded herself, and pushed open the doors. Showing up at an info session didn’t mean she had toapply.

The room was even more crowded than she’d expected, students cramped together so tight that some of them had spilled into the study carrels in the neighboring room. Nina’s heart sank a little. It looked like every last English major her year had shown up, plus several upperclassmen—though the ones with green name tags, she realized, were students who had done the program in years past. From the look of things, Nina had missed the official question-and-answer session; a projector on the far wall flashed through pictures of students walking through Oxford’s iconic cloistered courtyards or smiling on field trips to London.

Nina grabbed a pamphlet from the information table, filledout a name tag, and stuck it to her dress. Then she started into the crowds, figuring she should at least talk to one of the program’s alumni, hear what it was like firsthand.

A professor with wavy gray hair and an intelligent gaze stood nearby, surrounded by half a dozen jostling students. Something about her made Nina look twice, and then she nearly gasped, because the woman’s name tag readDr. Elizabeth Lytton, Oxford University.

Hadn’t Nina read an essay by a Dr.Lytton for her paper onEmmalast month?

Nina forced her way through the throngs of students, hovering nearby until Dr.Lytton finally turned to her.

“Dr.Lytton, it’s an honor to meet you. I recently cited your academic paper onEmma.”

The professor was clearly pleased that Nina had made the connection. “And what interests you about the Oxford program, Miss Gonzalez?”

Nina realized, in that moment, that she wasn’t simply curious about the program. A small but fierce part of her longed to do it—to go somewhere new, test the boundaries of her own abilities. She wanted to bebrave.

“I’d love to focus on nineteenth-century fiction,” she heard herself say.

“Ah, yes. A Jane Austen enthusiast.” From the dry way Dr.Lytton spoke, Nina suspected that she wasn’t the only student to have made that claim this afternoon.Those students aren’t like me,Nina wanted to cry out;they just watched the newPride and Prejudiceand liked seeing Darcy in a clinging wet shirt! I’m the real deal—I read biographies of Jane Austen in my spare time!

Instead, Nina blurted out, “I’m also playing Helena in an on-campus production ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Interest gleamed in the professor’s eyes. “An actress? And what do you think of Shakespeare?”