I shrug. That is a great, excellent question. One my mom’s asked me about a million times. “I don’t know. I keep promising myself I’ll get used to performing, but every time I chicken out. And I do want to pursue it if I can. I mean, I’ll probably never be a concert pianist, but I think I’d like to be in an orchestra. Like Caroline was. If I can be that brave. If not, maybe I’ll just play for myself.”

Rose does a little one-eighty shuffle so she’s facing me going backward again. Show-off. “But you have so much talent. Surely you can learn to overcome any stage fright?”

“Not all of us grew up in the spotlight,” I remind her wryly. “I can’t even perform in front of the school. What are the chances that I’ll magically be performing for a sold-out crowd in a few years?”

She gives me a knowing look. “Spend enough time around me, and you’ll get used to attention. Trust me.”

As the words leave her mouth, some of her brightness dims. I wonder if she’s thinking of my deal with Molly. And just how little time I’ve spent with her since I made it.

Should I bring it up? To apologize, or explain, or even to tell her I’ve missed her? I’m honestly not sure. She’s been smiling at me around school, and saying hi and stuff, so it’s been hard for me to tell if she cared at all that I asked for space.

It’s not easy to tell much of anything with Rose.

I stumble, and she automatically holds a hand out for me to grab onto. Her fingers curl around me firmly, and I wish she wasn’t wearing gloves, and I could feel the skin separated from mine by this stupid scrap of material.

“What about you?” I ask. “What happens after next year? Do you go to college—I mean, university—or get a job? Sorry,” I add. “I don’t know how being a princess works.”

Rose snaps back to the present. “I can go to university,” she says. “It’s encouraged, actually. I’ve thought I might like to study philosophy, or maybe anthropology. But it doesn’t matter what I study, or whether I choose not to. All roads lead to the same destination. I’m not allowed to hold any other jobs,” she clarifies.

“Right, gotcha. And is that what you want?”

Rose looks pensive. She still hasn’t let go of my hand. “What I want is to leave the world better than I found it. Being queen will give me more than enough resources to do that, if I don’t waste them. I just … hope I don’t waste them.”

“Well, that’s in your control, right?”