Bertrand Russell. A British philosopher. Maybe he should read outside his own narrow lane. “Oh,” Jaya said, smiling, even though inside, every nerve ending sparked with anger. She needed to be careful, she reminded herself. Very, very careful. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. Grey, she noticed, stood numbly and didn’t reciprocate, like he wasn’t used to human contact. Jaya chose to ignore his odd reaction. “Grey… may I ask one favor?”

He nodded once without speaking.

She stepped a little closer to him; he didn’t step back. “Please don’t share this with anyone. Let us leave it behind.” Glancing down at her feet, she continued. “It’s just… there’s so much vitriol out there about us, about her. We really need a break from it all.” She batted her eyes at him, made her lips just a touch poutier, as if she were in danger of crying at any moment.

Just as she knew he would, Grey’s gaze slipped to her lips, then back up to her eyes. He nodded. Jaya held back a triumphant smile. She would be great at PR, but just like espionage, that wasn’t an occupation that was royal-approved.

Grey cleared his throat. “Sure. I promise.”

When Jaya spoke, she spoke honestly. “Thank you. This is so important to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Isha. Absolutely nothing.”

CHAPTER 7

Jaya

Four days into the school year, everyone seemed like they were getting into the routine of being on strict schedules again. Even Alaric’s unfailing arrogance had calmed down a bit, though he still liked to remind all the teachers, the other students, and himself that he was “heir to a multibillion-dollar company that deals in ideas so that the common man doesn’t have to think.” Jaya had asked Daphne Elizabeth what that meant. Apparently, Alaric’s parents had made their fortune commercializing thirty-six previously under-utilized parts of deceased cows.

Jaya was on her way to the dorms—she and Daphne Elizabeth had made plans to study together—when Isha ran up to her on the steps outside the building. “Hi!” Jaya began, but Isha’s face was reminiscent of an oncoming thunderstorm.

“You can’t avoid the topic anymore,” Isha said, hugging a book to her chest.

“What topic?” Jaya asked, feigning innocence.

Isha cocked her head, and for once her cherubic face was completely serious. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for days about Grey Emerson, and you just keep telling me you’ve got a headache or you’re in a hurry to go somewhere or that we’ll talk about it later. Well, it’s later.”

Jaya sighed. “You already knew he went here. Leo told us that first day—”

“Yeah, but why were you hanging out with him? Why are you talking to an Emerson after all the crap you had to say about their family?”