As Isha began to forge a new friendship—a skill that had always come easily to her but seemed like magic to Jaya; her best friends were made from words—Jaya walked up and pressed the room key into her hand. Isha barely glanced at her as she said, “Thank you.”
“I’ll be up in my room,” Jaya murmured as the round-cheeked, pale-skinned girl prattled on about which teachers were the best and which meals Isha should be wary of in the dining hall. Jaya got the feeling her jaw muscles were well exercised. “Text me when you’re ready to eat.”
Isha nodded absently and then launched into a battery of questions.
Jaya walked up two more flights of stairs, feeling slight misgivings at leaving Isha, even though she knew she’d be perfectly safe. She couldn’t help it; the need to protect Isha had been ingrained in her since she was young and they’d wander the palace grounds together as children.
Homes didn’t get much safer than palaces—with bodyguards and grounds guards and shifty-looking men who tailed Appa and never took off their sunglasses… They were told to call them “uncles,” but someone had once told Jaya they were highly trained bodyguards. And when she was younger, they’d even had chained tigers along the borders of their land. (The tigers ate ninety pounds of raw meat at each meal. It hadn’t escaped Jaya that she’d weighed exactly that much at that age. She didn’t go anywhere in the vicinity of the tigers again after that realization.)
So, yes, palaces were safe. But even so, Jaya was constantly alert so Isha wouldn’t fall in one of their many ponds or wander off into the forest beyond their property. When Isha leaned too far out a high palace window, eager to study a parrot perched in the mango tree outside, it was Jaya who grabbed the back of her tunic and pulled her back in, refusing to let go until her sister’s feet touched safe ground once again. While Isha flew down the marble stair banisters when Amma wasn’t looking, Jaya would run behind her, one hand out just in case Isha needed her.
Isha was as unburdened by fear as Jaya was cautious. Even though they were only two years and two months apart, Isha seemed so much younger, so much more naive. As the eldest, it was Jaya’s responsibility to make sure Isha was always safe. And earlier this year, she’d failed completely in that duty. Bodyguards and tigers didn’t guarantee safety against every danger facing a royal family. Not even close.
When Jaya emerged onto the senior wing, she saw Dr. Waverly was right about the floors being identical. Even the common area was the same as the one on Isha’s floor, except for a popcorn machine in one corner. A few students sat talking on the sofa, but none of them glanced up as she walked past. Jaya followed the hallway to room 301, and used the key Dr. Waverly had given her to let herself in.
Her room looked comfortable enough. A bed made neatly with soft green linens was tucked into the corner. An ornate-but-functional desk, ready with the newest Mac laptop and a lamp, stood across from it. Jaya walked to the picture window and gazed down into the gardens, her hands shaking just the slightest bit as it finally hit her.
She was here. She’d crossed a big hurdle already, without even trying: she’d met people who knew Grey Emerson and had been invited to sit with them. As far as Appa and Amma knew, they’d gone to St. Rosetta’s to get away from the constant media attention, to give Isha a break from the relentless circus her life had become, thanks to Grey’s family. Jaya felt only slightly guilty at having withheld some very important information from her parents. And just a touch proud. She could have been a spy if she wanted to. (But naturally she didn’t. That wasn’t a fitting profession for a royal.)
The scandal had broken right before summer vacation, and the public outcry showed no signs of remitting. Appa’s face had been drawn and sallow. “I really do think the wisest course of action is for you to go with Isha to St. Rosetta’s International Academy. They’re used to this kind of thing there. It’s the best place for her now, Jaya. At least until everyone forgets. The astrologer says you’ll be safe there.”
“I agree with you, Appa,” Jaya had replied, though hearing the once-proud Maharaja Adip Rao concede defeat made her stomach curdle like sour milk. The blood of so many great Rao rulers ran through Appa’s veins, and hers. They were cut from the same cloth; surrender didn’t even usually occur to them.
That was when Jaya had realized that the Emersons hadn’t just sullied her sister’s reputation; they’d stolen something sacred. They’d tainted the essence of her family, the very pride and honor and strength that made them who they were.
When the school year start date was a week away, their St. Rosetta’s welcome packet had come in the mail. In it were log-in details to a private online group for students at the Academy. Jaya had logged in, wanting to see who else she might recognize—the world of elites was smaller than you’d expect, really—when she’d seen it, in the E section. Her eyes went right to his name, like a soldier spying the glint of an enemy rifle.
Name: Grey Emerson
Formal Title: Lord Northcliffe of Westborough
Added: 5 years ago
Status: Inactive, never logged in
Unlike everyone else’s profile, his didn’t have a picture. It was annoying; Jaya had been unable to find a single recent picture of Grey Emerson online, even with extensive googling. She couldn’t remember hearing much about him at any of the many events she’d attended over the years, except perhaps that his father, the duke, was an awful man. And that his mother had died in childbirth when Grey was born.
But that was information about his parents, not really about him. It was like he wanted to stay hidden. Still, this much was true: an Emerson went to the very school Appa had picked, that their astrologer had picked. And not just any Emerson… the male heir of a family that found the Raos particularly deplorable. Just like the journalist had told her. The very person who’d brought so much pain to her family. The coincidence was remarkable. So much so that she began to wonder… was it a coincidence at all? Perhaps this was fate, finally smiling on the Raos. Perhaps it was an opportunity, perfectly laid out in Jaya’s path.
Right then, staring at the screen, Jaya had known his presence at St. Rosetta’s meant something. Something big. There was no question; she would take the opportunity, as anyone would. A dark little sapling of a plan began to form in her mind.
But if this was an opportunity, what was it an opportunity for, exactly? In the week following her discovery, Jaya had racked her brain. What could she do to Grey Emerson to exact her revenge? She’d thought of and discarded: poisoned tea, a carefully placed arrow to the heart, and laxative cake. All too obvious.
And then, one day while she was in her room getting dressed, it had come to her.
Jaya’d spun in a slow circle, until she was facing the mirror on her dresser. Looking at her reflection, she’d said, “What weapons do I have at my disposal?” Her bare hands, and nothing else. She blinked and watched her reflection blink back. You have gorgeous hair, she heard one of her governesses saying. And an aunt had once said to her mother, when she thought Jaya wasn’t listening, “You’ll have to keep an eye on this one, Parvati. Boys are going to be chasing her from the time she turns fourteen.”
Hmm. Jaya had walked closer to her reflection. She did have a rather symmetrical face, and wherever she went, plenty of suitors. Who was it that said, “Beauty is a weapon; a smile is its sword”? Could she use that against Grey Emerson somehow?