Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,36
she stands up.
“Flora!” I nearly shriek as the boat rocks again, harder this time, but she’s got her feet firmly planted, hands on her hips as she stares down at Caroline and Ilse.
“So quick question, my loves,” she says, still grinning, but I remember this look from the pub and know that nothing good is coming. “Did you two attempt to bully Quint here?”
The smiles fade from their faces, and Caroline looks over at me as I crouch lower in the boat, trying to tug at the hem of Flora’s sweater. “Sit! Down!” I hiss at her, but she just bats at my hand and stays right where she is.
“Hardly bullying, darling,” Ilse says. “Just a reminder that she’s taking the place of someone . . . more deserving, let’s say.”
I can’t see Flora’s eyes beneath her sunglasses, but I can imagine them narrowing. “Who—Rose?” she asks, then laughs. “Please. Rose Haddon-Waverly should be thanking her lucky stars she missed out on being sent here. And in any case, it’s not Quint’s fault she’s smarter than Rose. Granted, my mother’s dachshund is smarter than Rose, but the point stands.”
Both Ilse and Caro are frowning now, shooting looks between me and Flora, and I slouch more deeply into my life jacket, the sides rubbing my ears, the smell of slightly mildewed vinyl heavy in my nose.
“You don’t like Millie either,” Caroline blurts out. “You said she was boring and only cares about studying.”
That stings a bit, but Flora only shakes it off. “Those things are just true,” she replies. “They don’t mean I don’t like her.”
“Seriously, you can keep saying that all you want, but it still doesn’t make sense,” I tell her, but Flora ignores me, keeping her gaze on Caroline and Ilse.
“Apologize to her,” she says, and I’m not sure who looks more shocked, me or the other girls.
Ilse huffs out a laugh. “Darling, you can’t be—”
“I am,” Flora interrupts. “And don’t call me darling. Tell Quint you’re sorry you were nasty, and promise not to do it again.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Caroline says, shifting on her little wooden bench. “You’re being ridiculous, Flora. You can’t make us do anything, you know. Princess or not.”
Ilse is glancing around the lake now, tugging at the straps of her life jacket. “Caro—” she starts, but Flora and Caroline are still locked in their standoff.
“So you refuse to apologize?” Flora asks, and a muscle ticks in Caroline’s jaw.
“Get bent, Flora,” she practically spits out, and without missing a beat or dropping her smile, Flora lifts her foot from our boat and presses it down hard on the edge of Caroline and Ilse’s.
Everything happens at once. The boat tips, the girls scream, our boat tips, and finally my fingers curl around the edge of Flora’s shirt, yanking her back from the edge even as our own boat rocks hard from side to side.
Somehow, magically, we stay afloat.
Caroline and Ilse are not so lucky.
The force of Flora’s nudge probably wasn’t hard enough to tip them over, but their subsequent panic did the job, and both of them bob in the lake, shrieking, their boat upside down next to them.
Grinning, her cheeks pink, Flora shoves her sunglasses on top of her head. “Seb taught me that trick!” she tells me. “I can’t believe it actually wor—”
A loud crack snaps through the air, and Flora and I both instinctively duck before looking back to the shore to see Mr. McGregor standing there, one of the antique pistols over his head, a thin trail of smoke spiraling out from it.
From the look on his face, I’m guessing the race is over.
CHAPTER 16
Flora and I are declared the losers of the boat race for “unsportsmanlike conduct,” which, honestly, seems pretty fair. We get off pretty easily as far as I’m concerned. No stocks, no dungeon, not even detention. Our punishment is to start arranging the gear for the Challenge, and since organizing camping stuff is one of my favorite things to do, I don’t mind.
We’re alone, her and me, in our room, with a bunch of tents and various pieces of equipment spread out in front of us. Our job is to start putting them in bunches of separate packs.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” I ask Flora. It’s night in our room, and since there isn’t any overhead lighting, things are dim. Cozy, almost.
“What, gone camping?” she replies, picking up the compass and frowning at it.