We both stood and made our way to the door, shaking hands and exchanging additional pleasantries before I left, Faxon following me as I exited the building.
I was in the car and headed back to my flat before I remembered the piece of paper still in my hand. I unfolded it and felt the breath rush out of my lungs as I read the name of my tutor: Adelaide Levy.
Adelaide.
We had grown up together. Our fathers were childhood friends—former lacrosse teammates who had remained close, despite their adult lives taking them in different directions as my dad became king and Nixon Levy became an accountant. While Adelaide and I had attended primary school together, I hadn’t seen her since our early teenage years.
I had heard that she was attending RCW, though our paths had never crossed. I remembered her as a girl, her blonde hair in French braid pigtails and a dusting of freckles across her nose. She had been brilliant even then, with a book always nearby.
She and Knox would probably get along famously, I mused silently, thinking of the many stacks of books in my best friend’s bedroom back home in Altborn, Wexstone’s capital.
I had never understood why the popular girls made fun of her. Adelaide was kind and smart and, even in those awkward preteen years, had always been cute. My heart soared every time she attended a palace event with Nixon, though I rarely worked up the courage to talk to her. She was, and always had been, out of my league.
And now she’s your tutor.
I took it back. Maybe therewasone person who I minded knowing that I needed help in one of my classes. And she’d be the one helping me pass.
I paced back and forth across the small study room, glancing at the clock approximately every thirty seconds. I was so anxious about this first session that I had arrived at the library thirty minutes early and was alternating between sitting and pacing as I waited for Adelaide to arrive.
You are a prince, for God’s sake. You have eaten dinner with nearly every international dignitary at some point or another, stop wearing a hole in the floorboards over a tutor.
I sat down again at the worn wooden table and was rearranging my textbooks for the millionth time when the door opened. I leaped to my feet, nearly knocking my chair to the floor as Faxon led Adelaide into the room.
“Adelaide Levy, Your Highness.”
She smiled at me tightly, dipping into a quick curtsy. “Your Highness.”
“Adelaide, hi. It’s nice to see you again,” I managed as I rounded the table. “Faxon, we’re good here. Thank you.” He and I nodded to each other, a silent language borne of being together nearly 24/7 over the last three years, and he closed the door behind him as he took up his post outside the room.
Adelaide watched Faxon leave, her eyebrows knit together. “Dr. Shariq said there would be two bodyguards present for our sessions?”
I motioned to the table, inviting her to take a seat. “Dr. Shariq is very well intentioned, but two bodyguards for a tutoring session was his idea, not mine. Besides, there’s hardly space in here for the two of us; having Faxon outside the door will be plenty sufficient.” I chuckled nervously, rubbing my hand along my jaw. “And after all, we’ve known each other most of our lives. I doubt you’re much of a danger to me.”
Adelaide’s remarkable green eyes shot to me as she sat in the chair next to my books and laptop, back ramrod straight, and I wished I could take the words back. The adorable girl had grown into a breathtaking woman. Her hair was still blonde, but the sun-bleached shade of our childhood had settled into a shining golden color. The freckles had faded and her lips had filled out with a distinct, perfect Cupid’s bow. She was dressed in jeans, camel-colored boots, and a rust sweater that brought out the color of her eyes.
I had the distinct sense that, while she may not pose a threat to my physical safety, this woman could absolutely destroy my heart.
“Sorry,” I fumbled, trying to backtrack. “I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine, Your Highness. I am just here to help you pass Spanish, not to take down the Wexstone royal family from the inside.”
I lowered myself into my chair. “Please, call me Oliver.”
Adelaide nodded, her mouth in a tight line. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
“Yes,” I answered, pulling my Spanish grammar textbook toward me and opening it. “This is where we left off in class this week, but we will probably need to review some of the previous lessons, too.” I handed her the book with a sheepish grin.
Adelaide took the book, seeming to take great care to not brush my hand in the process, and flipped through the pages. “Professor O’Connelly gave me some notes on your previous assignments, so I have a pretty good idea of where you’re struggling. But I do always appreciate hearing from a student themselves where they feel they need the most help.” Her eyes flicked up. “You have a literature textbook as well, correct?”
I nodded and handed it to her. She looked through it, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips.
“Are these…” She paused, looking up at me. “Are these used textbooks?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I believe they’re the correct editions, though. Is there something wrong with them? I also have the digital readings on my laptop,” I added, reaching for my computer.
Adelaide shook her head, an incredulous look on her face. “No, they’re fine. You just…you bought these yourself?”
“Well, sure,” I said, feeling a flush warm my cheeks. “I buy most of my textbooks used. Why not? They work just as well as brand-new ones. I just don’t see the sense in spending four times as much money on something simply because it’s new, when this is a more sustainable option.” It was the truth. It didn’t matter to me that I could afford anything I wanted; I simply didn’t see the sense in dropping money on things just for them to serve as a status symbol. And besides, I was careful to only buy used editions of books when there were plenty of them in stock so as not to take away from the books available to lower-income students.
