“So we’ll be seeing you soon,” Jaya cut in, turning to Penelope. She didn’t want Isha inviting Penelope along. There were matters she needed to discuss with her in private.
Penelope paused, looking a little like a droopy bloodhound. “Right. Cheerio. I’ll just catch up with you later, then.”
“Wonderful.” Jaya smiled and waved. She’d apologize later.
* * *
A-caf-demy Bistro was nestled at the base of the rolling hill on which St. Rosetta’s main campus sprawled.
Jaya glanced at Isha, stifling a yawn and shivering lightly as they walked along the path in the fading light of dusk. It got cold quickly in the mountains when the sun went down, something she remembered from a visit to the Alps. Her travel-foggy brain had still neglected to remember to bring a sweater on the walk, and Isha didn’t have one either. Jaya wouldn’t have minded a nap to help with the jet lag, but she’d need to stay awake until later tonight if she wanted to adjust as soon as possible. She had to be as alert as she could be when she met Grey Emerson for the first time.
Isha was dressed in a T-shirt Jaya was very familiar with, one she’d promised Jaya she’d throw away. Jaya opened her mouth to say something, but then she realized Isha was playing rather morosely with the hem. She watched, worry clouding her brow.
It wasn’t a big sacrifice for Jaya to leave behind her friends in Mysuru—she didn’t have that many to begin with. But Isha, being Amma’s daughter, was the quintessential social butterfly. Everyone was heartbroken that she was leaving—the teachers, the custodians, the principal, and the students—though obviously they understood why.
Jaya spent countless moments wishing the Emersons had found something horrible to say about her instead. She hadn’t had as far to fall as Isha did. Everyone—the media, friends, royal families in other parts of India—was always paying attention to the vivacious, beautiful, talented Isha. When she fell, she fell in full view of her audience, making the humiliation so much worse. Evidently, it was exactly what Grey Emerson had been counting on. God, the vitriol he must’ve imbibed from his family over the years to execute something this ruthless!
Jaya put her arm around Isha as they turned onto a small road. No cars were visible at all, a far cry from their bustling hometown. Aspen trees towered on either side, their leaves whispering in the slight breeze. Jaya took a breath, preparing herself to say what needed to be said. “Ish, I know things haven’t been easy for you these past few months. But we came here for a clean start. So this is just a gentle reminder, before our first day at this school…”
Isha sighed. “I know, Jaya. Keep my head down. Do what’s expected of me. Appa already gave me the lecture.”
Jaya tried not to let her temper rise. “It’s not a lecture, Isha. Our father was only doing what he thought best. The whole reason we’re here is because—”
“Because of who I am.” Isha tried to say it defiantly, like she didn’t care, but the catch in her voice gave her away. “I know you want to go home. You had to leave everything behind because of me. The Hegde family probably heard what happened, and propriety is so important to Kiran and his parents…” She stopped talking for a second before continuing. “I’m sorry, Jaya.”
Jaya stopped in her tracks and turned Isha toward her. “No.” She ducked a little to look right into Isha’s eyes as she spoke. Isha had gained a lot of height quickly over the past two years, but was still three inches shorter than Jaya’s 5'4". She tried to look away, but Jaya cupped her chin. “All this isn’t because of who you are. It’s because of who we are. We’re royals, and the rules are different for us. That’s why Gr—those Emersons”—Jaya spat out their name like it was a curse—“came after you. And why it’s so important that we keep a low profile now, that we do what’s expected of us. One of them goes to our school. We can’t afford to let our guard down again.” She took a breath. “As for the Hegde family, don’t worry, Isha. It’ll all work out, somehow or another.”
They began walking again, in silence this time. Isha was the first to speak, her voice suspiciously over-bright. “Quick question: What if I want to take robotics engineering? I was looking in the course catalog and it looks so fun.”
Jaya stared at her sister, who was simultaneously the most intelligent and most stupid person she knew. St. Rosetta’s International Academy had a whole catalog from which students could pick electives. Options ranged from French Cooking to A Study of the History of Russian Ballet to Principles of Global Finance. But, of course, Isha wanted to take robotics engineering. “That is not advisable, Ish.”
“Why not?” Her voice had a hard edge to it. “Plenty of Indian women are engineers.”
“Yes, but they’re not royals,” Jaya reiterated, trying to be patient in spite of her temper beginning to stir and crackle again. She tried to remember that she’d always found it easy to grasp that the rules were different for her than they were for others, simply by virtue of her blood. Isha, though, had fought against her birthright since she was a toddler, screaming “No!” and flinging off her gold bangles before any major event at the palace. Should Isha know better by now? Yes, she should. Did she? No, she absolutely didn’t. But perhaps Jaya could point that out gently, with the extreme diplomacy that had been ingrained in her since birth. She needed a light touch here.
“Isha, are you completely mad?” she blurted, her voice getting louder with each word she spoke. Sometimes a light touch was overrated. “The Emersons had pictures of you cavorting with those men—mechanics in a motorcycle shop!—covered in oil and dirt like some vagrant. Not to mention you were kissing one and hanging all over him and drinking alcohol! Not to mention, you’re wearing the very same T-shirt you were wearing that day! I thought you agreed to get rid of it. You’re lucky the angle of the shot didn’t allow for that quote to be readily seen. That would’ve been just one more thing for our people to latch on to. One among many.” Her cheeks burned at the memory. She’d stared at the pictures for so long, trying to deny that it was her little sister in them. “You looked like some—” Jaya stopped to take a breath. “It’s in our best interests to show you as a respectable member of the royal family.”
“They weren’t men, and I wasn’t cavorting!” she said indignantly, apparently having forgotten her apology of only seconds ago. “You make a mistake one time and—” She stopped, taking a breath. “You know I really liked Talin—and his crew. What’s wrong with kissing someone you like? How does showing my feelings make me a bad person? And this T-shirt? What’s so bad about it?” She looked down at it. It was a tight-fitting white baby-doll T-shirt with bold black font on the front. NO GODS, NO MASTERS. Jaya had googled it. The slogan was about anarchy. And extreme feminism. Both things a royal Indian woman should definitely not appear to support. Seeing Jaya’s thunderous expression, Isha hurried to continue. “They were boys my own age, and I was helping them with their business. Not everyone in India can afford school, Jaya. You know that. Some people have to earn a wage from childhood. I’m an excellent mechanic. I was helping them earn enough money so they didn’t have to close the shop! Talin knew I was a good mechanic; it’s why they agreed to let me help out in the first place. Can’t you see I was doing a good thing?”