Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,43

does a mad scramble of panic between giant deer! and antlers! And omgomgsocoldsocoldalsowetwhywhywhy, and DROWNING!

Except . . . not drowning.

I put my feet down and realize that where we landed in the water is only just over my knees. My whole body is wet, though, hair included, and when I look over, Flora is sitting in the shallower water by the bank, her knees up, hair a wet, bedraggled mess over her face, sunglasses hanging crookedly from one ear.

The stag is nowhere to be seen, and Flora reaches up to flick her wet hair out of her eyes, her chest heaving as she scans the landscape.

Then she says, “You know what? It’s actually unicorns who are our national animal, not stags. Just remembered.”

Teeth chattering, I glare at her. “Well, maybe one will turn up.”

After we make our way out of the river, we start walking.

And walking.

I have no idea where we’re headed, really, since I wasn’t paying a huge amount of attention to our actual location on the drive up. Not that that would help, since I can’t remember if the school is to the east or west of where we are now. Stupid, probably, but then I’d assumed I’d have a compass and a map, and also a tent, and also all the things you need to survive a camping trip.

We crest another hill, and Flora stops at my side, looking down at her muddy trousers.

“At least we now definitely look like we’ve been in distress,” she says, and I whirl around on her.

“We are in distress.”

The sun is slowly sinking down behind the clouds, and with the damp, it’s like the cold is seeping even deeper into my skin. We’re in the hills in the middle of nowhere, and oh my god, this is totally how I’m going to die, all because some spoiled princess wanted to get back at her mom.

“I thought you said you were done with trying to get kicked out,” I say through chattering teeth.

“I am. Mummy was very clear that I couldn’t be expelled. But!” She lifts one finger. “This isn’t me causing trouble. This is the school not being a safe place for me.”

She lowers her hand and shrugs. “Very different, obviously.”

I swear, if Flora could use her brain for something other than cooking up various schemes, she’d probably rule the world, but I’m too angry to be impressed.

“Do you understand that this isn’t just about you?” I ask her now, wrapping my arms around my body. Flora is standing just in front of me, and she wraps her arms around herself, too.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she replies through all that shivering, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and strangle her.

“Don’t be dramatic?” I echo. “You’re actually saying that to me? You, the girl who’s willing to bring down a hundred-year-old institution just because she doesn’t like living so far from home?”

Flora rolls her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “All right, first of all, what do you even care? I’m the one with ancestors who went here. I’m the one whose family practically built this place.”

“Then why are you trying to destroy it?” I counter. “Dr. McKee is perfectly nice, and she loves Gregorstoun. Or is she just more collateral damage in your nonstop acting out?”

“Now you sound like my brother,” she mutters.

I snort. “Seb? He has his own medal in overly dramatic shenanigans, I’d guess.”

Flora’s pert nose wrinkles. “No, not Seb. Alex, my older brother. He’s always going on about how I make things harder for myself, that I’m my own worst enemy. Complete tosh, of course.”

“Actually that sounds very untosh to me,” I reply. Then I frown. “If tosh means ‘nonsense,’ which I’m assuming it does.”

There’s this look Flora does, somewhere between a side-eye and a smirk, and I get it now. “You’re picking up the slang at least,” she says, and I shake my head, irritated.

“What I’m picking up is frostbite and probably tuberculosis or some other horrible disease.”

Tipping her head back, Flora sighs at the sky, her arms out to her sides. “This cannot be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you,” she says before looking back at me. “I mean, that fringe alone should qualify before this little incident.”

It takes me a second to work out that she’s talking about my bangs, and when I do, I tug at my hair, scowling.

“Again, not really sure insults are the way to go here given this whole ‘strand us in the wilderness