The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

3

24 January

Shuffington Palace

The insistent pounding on her door forced Juliana to open her eyes. But it took effort. The dried mascara was clumped like superglue, making her blink several times. Juliana rolled onto her back with a groan. Then, on a raw throat, she croaked, “What?”

The door swung open, and Ele strolled jauntily into the room. Her red wrap dress skimmed her figure. Her stylist, Beatrix, had done an amazing job, but even if Ele were standing in a burlap sack with tangled hair and horn-rimmed glasses, the expression on her face would make her look stunning. Happiness and contentment exuded from her pores, much like last night’s vodka oozed from Juliana’s. Ele’s smile faltered when she got her first glimpse of still-drunk Juliana.

Ele nervously ran her hands down her thighs—her tell for any range of emotion.

Jules raised a brow in a challenging manner, but she supposed the makeup lingering on her face and the state of her hair made the motion seem desperate.

Ele pulled the door closed behind her and stepped farther into the room. “Rough night?” she asked as she continued to close the distance toward Juliana’s bed. “Are you okay?”

Juliana offered a wry smile. She was still getting to know this new version of her big sister. A mere eight months ago, Ele wouldn’t have been interested in Juliana’s woes because she couldn’t see past her own anxieties. For as long as she could remember, she’d been an afterthought for Ele while Juliana turned herself inside out to pull the spotlight away from her sister—to protect her.

“I’m fine. Just ridiculously hungover.” Juliana pushed off the bed and rose to her feet. The quick movement proved a bit too much, and she wobbled. “Maybe still drunk,” she clarified.

Ele laughed. And Juliana grinned as she ducked into the bathroom.

Refusing to look in the mirror, she jumped into the shower and quickly washed the club from her body.

When she walked back into her room sometime later, she was surprised to find Ele waiting for her. Ele didn’t seem to be in any hurry to chat, so Juliana continued to get ready. But she could feel Ele’s excitement, much like Juliana had felt the energy of the club the night before. It thrummed through the room, a rampant beat.

Ele was thrilled to be attending the Hartesfield United game today. She hadn’t attended a football game since the summer before—when she had been part of their country’s official delegation at the World Championship Cup and had fallen in love with everyone’s favorite footballer, Tristan Davenport. While Ele had been in exile in Chicago during the fall, she’d been unable to attend Tristan’s games. Now, Ele was in love, her relationship was public, and she wanted to see her man in action.

A couple of weeks before, when they’d made their plans, Juliana had shared Ele’s excitement. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see Rowan Beckwith’s surly ass commanding the field. But then Rowan suffered a horrendous injury. And Juliana’s enthusiasm had suffered a major blow.

But she didn’t want to disappoint Ele, and she didn’t want to have anyone question her sudden change of heart. She did, however, want to know about Rowan, but she couldn’t ask about him without giving away her stupid, ridiculous concerns for him.

“How are things with the new security detail?” Juliana asked.

Ele nodded. “Good. I mean, Michael has been with me almost as long as Robert, so things are mostly the same.”

“But you miss Robert?” Jules asked.

Ele’s panic attacks had been the backdrop of Juliana’s life for as long as she could remember. Juliana had been shaped by what was happening with her older sister. More than her grandmother, the queen; more than her brother, the crown prince; more than her country. Even though Juliana knew she wasn’t as important as the twins, on the basis of the outer trappings of their lives, all three of them got the same things. Ele needed a full security team, a personal assistant, and a stylist, so Juliana received the same. And even though she didn’t need to be followed everywhere she went or have every minute of her day scheduled, she endured it. Because it made everyone feel better to think they all received the same attention.

Ele smiled. “Of course I miss seeing him every day. But I’m getting to know him as my brother, which has been interesting.”

Jules smirked but Ele’s statement hurt. Recently, they’d learned Robert was really the half-brother of Ele and Jamie. It was another way in which Juliana didn’t quite fit in. “I’m sure.” She returned to the bathroom to do her hair.

“Tristan’s worried about the game today. They haven’t won since Rowan was injured.”

Juliana paused, the brush stuck mid-stroke. “Really?” she said, hoping her voice sounded normal. “How is he, by the way?” she asked with as much flippancy as possible.

“Not good, apparently.”

“Apparently?” Juliana questioned.

“Tristan hasn’t spoken to him, so everything he knows, well, basically, it’s all rumor.”

Juliana froze. “Tristan hasn’t spoken to him?”

“Rowan won’t return his calls, and no one seems to know where he’s recovering.”

Juliana couldn’t figure out how that was possible. How had Rowan and his people managed to keep his whereabouts off the radar? He was the country’s most famous footballer. The skipper who had led the national team to international glory, graced the cover of magazines and billboards, and essentially become their country’s tourist attraction. She glanced at her face in the mirror, watching the shock and disbelief in her reflection.

#whereisrowanbeckwith. She would bet money his disappearance rated its own hashtag.

“Doesn’t that seem odd to you?” she finally managed to ask.

“Odd, yes.” Ele hesitated. “Tristan is really worried. And even though he won’t say it, I know he’s hurt.”

Juliana nodded. She raked the brush through her hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. Without any thought, Juliana applied makeup and pulled an outfit of slim-cut navy slacks and a heavy cream sweater, featuring a thick turtleneck. The clothes were simple but classy and comfortable enough to make her think of snuggling up on a sofa to ride out her hangover. She gave her appearance a once-over in the mirror. Ele popped up behind her, and when their eyes met in the reflection, they shared a smile.

“It’s rather annoying. Forty-five minutes ago, you looked like rubbish. And without any fanfare, you made yourself look like that.” Ele swept her hand up.

“Superpower,” Juliana quipped with a wink. She was kidding—sort of.

For three years, she’d modeled, gracing the covers of every fashion magazine—sometimes more than once. She’d enjoyed the travel, the challenge, and the freedom of life outside the confines of the castle. And she had learned, gleaning makeup and fashion tips from everyone she worked with. During the downtime at shoots, she questioned the makeup artists, the fashion editors, the photographers. She was insatiable. Knowing she could use the information in her real life, she’d made sure to use the resources she had.

Ele looked a little wistful. “I’m hopeless when it comes to that stuff. I swear, I need Beatrix to code my wardrobe for when she’s not around.”

Juliana turned away from the mirror and squeezed Ele’s shoulder. “You really do.”

Ele laughed and then playfully shoved Jules’s hand. “Thanks.”

The door to Juliana’s room swung open, and a maid walked in, balancing a tray laden with pastries, a small teapot, and two mugs. The young woman dodged the settee and placed the tray on the ottoman.

Juliana’s suite resembled an apartment. Situated in front of two casement windows, a suite opened to a living space with a settee, two club chairs, and an ottoman, all arranged in a seating area. Beyond, a set of French doors led to Juliana’s bedroom. There was a small office in the back that Juliana rarely used. Her favorite spot in her apartment was a cozy space in front of the fireplace.