The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

11

28 February

Xavier Hall

The delightful aroma of coffee filled the air and pulled Juliana from her drunken slumber. Gingerly, she opened her eyes, blinking away the leftover smudges of mascara and sleep. When her head did not roar with protest, she pushed up, and turning, she slithered into the corner of the couch, knees up, and pulled the blanket around her tightly.

Soft, artificial light filled the room. Her brain slowly came back online, and with it came the memories of disturbing Rowan in the middle of the night. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. What had she been thinking?

She smiled, remembering something else. Opening her eyes, she lifted the blanket and peered down at her attire. She laughed softly when she saw the boxers. She couldn’t see his face when he asked her about it, but she was fairly certain he’d been mortified, and that made her stupidly happy.

“Oh good. You’re awake.” Violet strolled toward her from the kitchen with a mug in her hand.

“Is that coffee?” Jules asked in a throaty voice. Violet nodded, and Juliana cleared her throat and tried again. “Bless you.”

Violet tilted her head, studying Juliana before she handed her the cup. Inhaling the fumes, Juliana watched Violet sink into the chair across from her.

“You might want to drink that. Quickly.” Violet shifted back in the chair, crisscrossed her legs, dropped her elbows onto her knees and her chin on her fists.

“What time is it?”

“Do you think you are getting a sore throat, or is that alcohol-induced?” Violet asked when Jules’s voice continued to sound like a sex-operator’s audition tape.

Juliana took a sip of her coffee and then swallowed a couple more times, testing for any soreness. “Think it’s alcohol-induced,” she admitted. She closed her eyes as something else occurred to her. “Did the duke see me sleeping on the couch?” Mentally, she tallied her offenses – stumbling in late; waking Rowan; stealing, and wearing, his boxers; and being caught not in his bed.

Violet smiled. “Rowan told him his leg had been especially sore last night and you’d moved to the couch as a precaution.”

Juliana breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay, well, you have a busy day, so you might want to clear your throat. Maybe some tea?”

“Busy day?”

“Yes,” Violet sighed. “For someone so smart, Rowan was a bit naive with his plan. My father is a capitalist. And by that, I mean, if there is an opening, he is going to run through it. You and Rowan together? He should have been prepared for all the bells and whistles. My dad has been waiting for this day for a very long time.”

Juliana continued to drink her coffee as she contemplated Violet. She was a pretty little thing. Her eyes dominated her face, and she had the cutest mole near the corner of her mouth. Her collarbone protruded, emphasizing her petite frame. She was awfully mature and put together for a teenager, but Jules knew the indoctrination all noble girls were subjected to. On the one hand, it made you fluent in small talk, lineage, and social niceties, but woefully innocent in building friendships and regular teenage angst. She imagined Violet could plan a formal dinner party and speak properly with Queen Liliana, but she probably struggled when she had a crush on a boy or girl.

“A schedule, you said?” Juliana asked.

Violet unfolded herself and left the room, only to return a moment later. She handed a piece of paper to Juliana and returned to the chair. “Rowan went to try some new machine. The AlterG thing. He asked me to let you know what was going to happen today.”

Juliana glanced down at the paper.

She looked over to Violet in horror. “And you’re sure Rowan knows about this?”

Violet rolled her lips inward. Fighting a smile? “Yes, and his reaction was similar to yours, if the look on your face is any indication. He was quite angry.” She shrugged. “No one wants to listen to a teenager,” she said, “or the baby of the family. And when you’re both, you get used to being ignored. Or at least, put off. Like it’s not on purpose, but you couldn’t possibly know anything. Except I pay attention. And people let down their guard because they don’t really see me.”

Juliana wanted to hug the girl. She knew exactly how she felt.

“All that to say, I warned Rowan. And maybe it wasn’t because he didn’t listen, but maybe he didn’t understand the audacity of the duke. But here we are.”

Setting the cup on the table beside her, Juliana stood up. “I am going to need a shower.”

“Are you wearing boxers?” Violet asked, incredulous.

Juliana laughed, big and joyous. She still wished she could have seen Rowan’s face. “Yes,” she answered simply.

Violet’s eyes were wide. “Scandalous,” she said before she burst into laughter. “Rowan must have been mortified.”

“Served him right,” Juliana muttered to herself. “I’m going to sneak up to my room and get changed.”

Juliana pulled the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around herself.

“Oh, you don’t need to sneak anywhere. Your things were relocated to the suite next door. A stylist will be there in thirty minutes to help you procure items you might not have brought with you. And you’ve been assigned a personal assistant for the duration of your stay.”

Juliana paused mid-wrap, staring at Violet as she calmly disseminated information.

“You have also been assigned security.” Violet must have sensed Juliana’s ire because she held up her hands. “Messenger.”

Juliana inhaled slowly. She was used to a certain amount of freedom and privacy. She’d never had a personal secretary. And she did not like being surrounded by people who didn’t answer to her. She refused to have a Navan guard and assistant. But she would need to compromise somewhere. “If I need to speak with someone about these arrangements, who would that be?”

Violet’s lips twitched. “Your boyfriend?”

Juliana glared at her.

“Kidding, kidding.” Violet glanced at her phone. “My father has a standing nine o’clock staff meeting. If you hurry, you can catch him before it begins. He picks up his coffee from the kitchen at eight fifty-five. I would plan your ambush for then.” Violet stood. “Not that you need my advice,” she began.

Juliana interrupted her. “I know nothing about your father. I’ll take any advice you want to impart.”

Violet paused to consider. “Have a plan and don’t ask. He respects decisiveness. But if I were you, I would make sure you have a good idea about security. You don’t want a Navan detail. They are loyal to no one but my father.”

Juliana departed and walked in the direction Violet had sent her. Once inside the suite, she showered quickly.

Although she’d rocked the party-girl glitter dress the night before, Juliana always traveled with options. Not enough options to get her through multiple official visits per day, but plenty to avoid working with a Navan-appointed stylist. It wasn’t anything against Nava, but Juliana didn’t even work with a stylist in her own country. She proved it when she pulled a Givenchy black suit and white silk shirt out of her suitcase. She tied her hair back in a low bun and applied minimal makeup.

When she finished getting ready, she had just enough time to catch the duke.