Laughing with far too much relief, Naina dropped into the patio swing. The reflection of the full moon broke and scattered across the pool’s surface. “This is what I get for even suggesting there was a lack of booze on the Raje estate.”

Vansh sat down next to her.

You okay? he wanted to ask, but nothing about her allowed that question. Her jet-black hair fell in sleek layers to her proudly held shoulders. Her high porcelain cheekbones showed not a line of emotion. Her legs were neatly crossed at the ankles. Her manicured hands were folded in her lap. She presented as self-possessed and unbreakable a picture as there could ever be.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she answered anyway. “It’s not like what Yash and I had was real.” The glance she threw the moonlight dancing on the pool was almost bored.

“Your friendship was real.” Naina and Yash had been best friends since they were in grade school.

“And it still is.” She played absently with the whisper-thin gold chain hanging from her wrist. “But anyone can see that India is better for him than I would ever be. And, well”—looking up from the bracelet, she spun a hand around in a circle—“all this . . . Rajeness. It’s a lot. And it’s not really my cup of tea. Not having to deal with this level of drama on a day-to-day basis is a huge relief. Everyone is better off this way.”

Vansh didn’t agree. His family was perfect. This drama was what he missed when he was gone. But she was right, it wasn’t for everyone.

“What about you?” she said. “What’s the Baby Prince’s next project? Which part of the world are you jetting off to next?”

For so long it had been the question Vansh had lived for. Now, sitting in this alcove, where peace shimmered in the air despite the throngs celebrating on the other side of the pool house, Vansh found that he wasn’t sure. For the first time in his life the thought of leaving wasn’t an irresistible pull.

“Not quite sure,” he said.

“Really?” She studied him in that partly amused but fully focused way of hers.

“Maybe it has to do with being instrumental in Yash winning the election, but being here suddenly feels different. That success seems to have changed something inside me.” He touched his heart, where satisfaction and pride filled him up.

“You can’t be serious.” Was she laughing at him? Her tone slid from amusement to scolding, their familiar pattern dancing between them again. “Success?”

“I sense a question mark at the end of that word. Do you doubt it was a success?”

Her dramatic eyebrows arched over wide, amber-flecked eyes. “Success implies endeavor, Vansh.”

“How can you say that?” Sure, he sounded petulant, but only because he felt petulant. “The meeting between the police union and BLM leaders would never have happened without me.”