Page 111 of Prince of the Palisades

He bows in the way I coached him on earlier.

“My children,” Papa says with a faint warmness. “Welcome home.”

“You too, Papa,” Annika says.

I nod, trying to detangle the knots forming in my stomach as I sit.

Mom folds her hands on the table. “This is Mr. Hayes?”

“Reiss,” I confirm with a wobbly voice. I clear my throat. “My boyfriend.”

“It’s an honor to meet you,” he gets out, just as nervous.

Mom’s grin widens. Papa’s face remains unsurprisingly neutral.

Samuel rests a folder in front of him.

“Quite the journey you’ve been on, son,” he says, reaching for his teacup. The air is spiced with a flowery scent. Darjeeling, his favorite. “Going to dinners with respected figureheads. Baseball games. Rehearsing for a school play—”

Something like pride rests in the corners of Mom’s mouth at that last bullet point.

Papa flips a page. “You’ve also had time to beseenat Los Angeles landmarks.” His eyes drift to Reiss.

Under the table, I grip his hand. “Yes, Papa, I—”

“And yet,” he goes on like I never spoke, “nothing to prove you’ve earned Réverie’s respect again.”

My mouth flattens into a thin line, eyes narrowed.

“You’re still in the news.” He turns another page. A copy of today’sThe Dish and Chips. The interview with Kofi.

My stomach roils as Mom’s expression slips into disappointment.

“Where is the prince I asked for?” Papa inquires. “Three months in America. Ample time to prove yourself. But all I see is a rebel protesting. Getting caught kissing this boy.”

“His name’s Reiss,” I say, barely keeping the agitation out of my voice.

Papa is unmoved. He’s the king right now, not the man who taught me to knead dough or flip a crêpe.

“And Iamthe prince you asked for,” I say earnestly. “The one I should be.”

“Which is?”

“Someone who cares.” I look at Reiss. “Who fights. Speaks up. Who isn’t always right, but knows change takes time.” I watch Reiss’s mouth curve up before staring at Papa again. “I’m proud of who I’m becoming.”

Papa sighs into his tea. “But is Réverie proud?”

“They should be,” I insist.

Mom smiles sadly. “Son, have you thought about whether your choices are fair to Reiss?”

His attention jumps to her.

My perfect royal posture falters. “W-what?”

“I know what it’s like to be an outsider,” Mom says. “The crown carries a lot of weight. Not just for you. For whoever you choose to be involved with.”

A familiar flame starts in my chest. Climbs into my throat. The prime minister’s words pollute my blood all over again.She’s not one of us. Never will be!