Page 80 of Reign

Nina was struck silent. She couldn’t believe that Jeff remembered all those moments. He spoke as if it was no big deal, as if he wasn’t breaking her heart little by little with each sentence.

That was the thing about people who had known you since childhood: they understood you in ways that you didn’t even understand yourself.

They could hurt you better than anyone, even when they didn’t mean to.

Two days later, Nina was onstage for the final performance of the weekend, curling up amid the painted greenery and stretching her arms overhead with a yawn. “O weary night, O long and tedious night, / Abate thy hours!”

In reality she wasn’t weary at all; she was thrumming with energy, feeding off the excitement that pulsed through the theater.

She had actually done it. She, shy and bookish Nina Gonzalez, had done something she’d never expected and starred in a play. She almost didn’t recognize herself.

After the curtain call, her parents found her backstage and handed her a bouquet of sunflowers. “Nina! You were spectacular,” her mom exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. “And your cute costar! I can’t believe he’s the Prince of Canada.”

“He seems very normal,” her mamá chimed in, eyes fixed on Nina. “There weren’t any tabloid reporters here tonight.”

Nina heard the criticism of the Washingtons folded into that comment. Her mamá had always been wary of her friendship with Samantha, afraid that Nina would get sucked into a toxic whirlpool of feeling less-than. And in many ways she’d been right.

“Jamie isn’t on home turf. The rules are different here,” she mumbled. Mercifully, her mamá let it go.

“Nina!” Rachel came to join them, holding an enormous arrangement of two dozen red roses. “One of the royal security guards just dropped this off for you.”

“How sweet of Samantha!” Nina’s mom exclaimed, craning to look over her shoulder. “Is she here?”

Nina smiled and reached for the roses, touched. Sam had come to last night’s performance, and had sent cupcakes to the entire cast backstage. Nina certainly hadn’t expected her to do anything tonight.

Rachel drew Nina aside, lowering her voice cryptically. “I’m not sure it was Sam.”

Nina tore open the envelope attached to the flowers.

You were fantastic tonight, Nina. Congratulations.

It wasn’t signed, but that didn’t matter, because Nina would have known that handwriting anywhere.

She looked at Rachel, stunned. “Jeff was here?”

Her friend let out a breath. “He came late and sat in the back row. He was really discreet about the whole thing; none of the audience had any idea he was here.” She hesitated. “I think he just wanted to see you.”

Though she knew he was long gone, Nina glanced out at the auditorium, heart hammering.

“Nina!”

Jamie came bounding toward her. He saw her parents and grinned eagerly. “Hi, you must be the Gonzalezes. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Jamie.” He spoke easily, without any pretention or artifice, and Nina saw even her mamá’s eyes soften. He was winning them over.

She handed the roses wordlessly to Rachel, who nodded and promised to take them to the dorm.

Then Nina turned toward her parents and Jamie, smiling as if everything were completely fine. As if her royal ex-boyfriend hadn’t just barreled back into her life and upset the delicate balance that she’d fought so very hard to build.

Daphne shifted, the better to catch the light streaming through the palace’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and studied her reflection in the trifold mirror.

Her wedding gown was spectacular. Its intricate lace scooped over her arms and neck in an illusion cut before meeting the fitted bodice, and then the skirts: frothy layers of tulle that fell to the ground like enchanted snowdrifts. She should have felt like a fairy-tale princess.

Instead, her mind kept circling back to this morning’s ominous email:Time’s running out, Daphne. If you don’t tell Jeff it’s over, then I will. Don’t settle for living a lie because you’re afraid to live the truth. P.S. Sorry I missed out on Enchanted Fiefdom!

The tone of the email had lingered with her all morning. Somehow it didn’t sound like Gabriella, especially the part about living a lie. If Daphne hadn’t known better, she almost would have thought the author of the emailcaredabout her. Which was really a ridiculous notion.

Of course it was Gabriella—who else could it be?

Queen Adelaide gestured to Daphne’s shoulder, where the gorgeous illusion netting stretched over her skin. “Should we add another segment of lace here?” she suggested.