“I’m beyond pleased you made it,” she says.
I open my mouth to speak, but am interrupted by a tall girl with protruding eyes and long dirty-blond hair who’s suddenly appeared to chat. Libby makes small talk with her for a few moments. I’m impressed with her calm demeanor. The skittish, nervous edges seem to have been smoothed and polished away. This more mature, less self-conscious version of my sister is going to take some getting used to.
As she dismisses the blond girl, she turns back to me.
“Sorry. Guys, do you mind if I steal my sister away for a minute?”
“Go for it,” India says.
“Not at all! By all means!” says Georgie, flourishing her arms to make a path for us.
Libby grabs me by the hand and leads me down the hall and around the corner.
“There’s a room over here.”
“I think Georgie was prepared to curtsy to you back there,” I giggle. “Should I start calling you Your Highness now, or . . . ?”
“Oh, stop.”
We enter into a huge drawing room with a majestic chandelier hanging from the gilded ceiling. The room is decorated in shades of red and gold, all the sofas and chairs in the same crimson that decorates St. George’s Hall, and the heavy red curtains featuring gold tassels and trim. The lamps are off, the only light visible through the windows from the courtyard below.
Libby walks over to a wood-and-gold table, turning on a small lamp. “Edward brought me here earlier,” she says by way of explanation.
“Okay.” I look around warily, expecting guards to burst into the room and haul us off to the dungeons. Clearly I’ve watched too much TV. “Did you guys stay at the castle last night?”
“Yes! How weird is that? He has a set of apartments, just off his parents’ private quarters. The rooms are beautiful, but really musty. It feels like being in an old hotel that hasn’t been renovated.”
“That’s. So. Weird.”
“Tell me about it,” she says. “There’s so much to catch up on. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Oh. Have you?”
“Yes! Are you serious?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “It seems like things have been going pretty well. I’m not surprised you and I haven’t spoken, what with your smart new life.”
She looks hurt. “I know I deserve that.”
I pick up a small golden box on the table, pretending to study it while I wait for her to continue. Of course I’m finally going to forgive her—but I want to make her work for it.
“I know I’ve apologized over and over again, but I’ll keep doing it until you forgive me. I was a jerk. I was insensitive and I didn’t handle things at all well.”
“Mmm,” I say.
“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to steal Edward. I really wasn’t, Charlotte—I didn’t set out to get with him. I hope you know that by now.”
“Mmm,” I say again. “Yes. I think so.” I pause, hoping she’ll keep apologizing.
“I completely went against all my principles and I put my relationship with Edward before my relationship with you. I can’t apologize enough. You’re blood. You should come first, and I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling relief. “That means a lot.”
“The past three months have been bizarre. I’m so happy with Edward. It’s nice to be with somebody who gets me. But I’ve been missing you desperately. So much has happened and it’s killed me I couldn’t share it with you. I’ve been racked with guilt.”
“I feel a little guilty, too,” I say.
“You feel guilty? Why?”
“You know how Mum and Aunt Kat haven’t spoken in years?”
Libby nods.
“I keep thinking about them. I don’t want that to be us.”
“Me, neither.”
“Mum refuses to tell me what happened, but I feel like—it takes two to tango, you know? You know Mum. Even if Aunt Kat was awful to her, it’s never one-sided. And I was kind of a brat at times.”
“I wish I could go back in time and do it differently,” Libby says. “I knew I might be starting to have feelings for Edward, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I pushed them away, and then it all blew up in my face when we kissed and you got ten times as hurt.”
“It did hurt,” I say. “I know that’s silly, since he and I only dated for a couple of months, and we barely ever saw each other. But”—I shrug—“it made me feel silly. I felt like a fool.”
She nods as if telling me to go on.
“And then it was awful. Everybody was like, ‘Buck up! Get over it!’ like nothing had ever happened, but I’m not a robot. It felt like I was being pushed out of the group to make room for your relationship with Edward. It was lonely. It sucked.”
Libby takes my hands in hers. “I am so, so sorry, Charlotte. For everything.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“Now can I be honest?”
“Sure.”
“I know it’s not fair”—she pauses—“but my feelings were hurt, too. I kept reaching out to you, and you kept shooting me down.”
“Is it weird that you saying that makes me feel better?”
“Yes.” She laughs.
“Well, I’m sorry, too. I punished you for too long. As usual, I took things too far.”
“Don’t say that! You felt betrayed. Your reaction makes sense.”
“Well, it’s water under the bridge now. I’m over it.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Moving on. I’m already bored by this conversation. Catch me up to speed on you. I want to hear everything.”
“Well,” she says, “things are going great. I’ve narrowed my university choices down—I’m leaning toward Edinburgh. I have the summer to decide, but my application is due in September.”
“Wait, Edinburgh? You’ve always talked about St. Andrews, like Dad.”
“I know.” She looks embarrassed. “But Edinburgh has an amazing history-of-art program.”
“Edward’s going there, isn’t he?” I say, realization dawning.
She blushes. “Yes.”
“And he wants you to come.”
She nods. “That’s not all.”
“What else?”
She pauses. Her face has turned scarlet. “We, um. We’re . . . we’ve . . .”
“Oh my God, Libby, just say it already!” I laugh.
“We’ve slept together.”
“Eiii!” I squeal, grabbing her hands. “How was it? I can’t believe it. Where were you? When did it happen? How did it happen? Tell me everything!”
She laughs, squeezing my hands. “To answer your questions: nerve-racking but amazing, although Helen almost walked in on us. At Kensington Palace last month after dinner. And I told him I’d never wanted anything more.”
I’m beside myself with excitement. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I can believe it, but . . . wow. This means you’ve had sex before me!”
“Well, it’s not a race,” she says, smiling.
“Okay, so: hot sex life with a gorgeous prince. Check. How’s everything else going with him?”
“Well.” She bites her lip. “I think I’m falling in love. No—I know. I am falling in love. I love him.”
“That’s huge!”
“Yes. Except . . .”
“Except what?”
“It’s hard. Being with him.”
I frown, the wind leaking out of my sails. “Hard? How?”
“I don’t know if you—” She stops, blushing.
“If I what?”