The matte black Maybach didn't even slow at the gates.
Highmere Palace security saw the diplomatic plates, saw Countess Rachel Percival in the back seat, and the barrier lifted.
Rachel said nothing. She just folded her hands in her lap and watched the gates open. No smile. No explanation. They didn't need to know why.
Lady Meribel Percival sat rigid beside her. Perfect posture. Perfect blouse. No violin case. She wouldn't dare bring it. Not to a private call with the Queen. Rachel didn't have to say it — Meribel already knew what would disappoint her. Violin, piano, ballet, horseback riding, art — she was brilliant at all of them, but showing off uninvited wasn't.
Lady Luna Percival slouched on Rachel's other side in a hoodie and ripped jeans, earbuds in. Rachel had fought. Threatened grounding, allowances, headlines. Luna had stared back and said, "Call it a diplomatic incident, then." Rachel lost. They both knew it. Neither mentioned it again.
The driver stopped the Maybach at the private entrance. Not the tourist side. No cameras.
Staff opened the rear doors before the engine cut off. No IDs checked. No bags scanned.
A footman led them through a side hall to a private sitting room. No crown. No livestream. Just tea set for three and a table with yesterday's newspapers, already folded.
"Her Majesty will join you shortly," he said, and shut the door.
They waited. Thirty seconds. Meribel counted.
The door opened.
All three stood instantly. Meribel dropped into a perfect curtsy. Rachel inclined her head. Luna shoved her earbuds in her pocket and straightened, but didn't curtsy.
Queen Genevieve entered — no announcement, no fanfare. She crossed straight to Rachel and hugged her, hard. "Rachel! You made it. And these are your girls."
Rachel's smile was small, private. "Genny." She stepped aside, presenting Meribel with a light hand on her back. "Your Majesty, may I present my daughter, Lady Meribel. She's played violin since she was four. Piano since six. Ballet, equestrian, and she won the Ashford art prize last spring."
Meribel rose from her curtsy, eyes down.
"Lovely," Genevieve said, eyes already sliding past. They landed on Luna. "And you?"
Meribel's smile froze.
Luna crossed her arms. "Luna. Lady Luna Percival, I guess."
Rachel's jaw ticked.
Genevieve's mouth quirked up. "Lady Luna Percival. In denim. At Highmere. Brave. Tell me, Lady Luna, what do you think of the Battle of Three Rivers?"
Luna shrugged. "Dumb. King Maren split his army across three fords because he figured his sons could coordinate without a group chat. They couldn't. Half his men drowned before the enemy showed up. He only won because the other side got dysentery."
Silence.
Then Genevieve laughed, sharp and real. "Exactly. Most girls your age quote the Netflix version about 'banners in the water.' You read the casualty reports."
"I like math," Luna said. "War is just math with casualties."
Genevieve turned to Rachel, delighted. "You've been hiding the smart one, Rachel."
Rachel's expression didn't change. "Luna is… observant. Meribel, dear, why don't you—"
"Actually," Genevieve cut in, "Rachel, walk with me. Delaware transfer. Best we discuss it alone. No aides."
"Of course," Rachel said. She turned to her daughters, voice even. "Girls. Wait here. A maid will show you the palace. Behave."
She swept off with the Queen. They both knew about the Delaware transfer. Rachel had told them last week — new title, new house, new schools. She hadn't said which ones. She rarely did.
A maid in palace gray appeared instantly and curtsied. "My ladies. I'm Elise. I'll be conducting your tour of the State Rooms. We'll begin in the Marble Hall, restored in 2019, then proceed to the Tapestry Gallery, digitized in 4K in 2024 after—"
Meribel fell into step, hanging on every word. If she memorized it, maybe Rachel would be pleased. Maybe she'd explain later. Maybe.
Luna lasted nine minutes. Elise was on chandelier wattage. Her phone had one bar.
"Bathroom," Luna muttered, and peeled off down a side corridor.
Meribel didn't notice. She was asking Elise about the annual heating budget because silence was safer than questions about Mom.
Luna took two turns, then a third. The air got quiet. Her bars jumped to full 5G. She ducked into the first open door.
It smelled like leather and old paper. Cold, too — like the AC ran year-round. Desk. Shelves. Window seat. Books everywhere. No bed. No personal photos. A study, clearly. Empty.
She dropped onto the seat and hit call.
Eva answered screaming. "LUNA! ARE YOU ALIVE? DID THE QUEEN CONFISCATE THE HOODIE?"
"Not yet," Luna said. "But the chandelier lecture might kill me. You're on speaker."
Harper: "Chandelier-related fatalities are statistically low. Request data on room exits instead."
Lily: "We miss you. Harrington is boring without—"
The door slammed.
Luna froze.
A boy stood there. Dark hair. Black crewneck, dark jeans, watch that cost more than Luna's phone. He carried himself like the hallway owed him rent. And his face looked like Luna had insulted his WiFi password.
He scanned her: hoodie, jeans, phone, feet on his window seat.
"You," he said, cold. "Staff doesn't clean my study until four. It's two."
His study.
Luna hung up and stood. "Didn't see a schedule. Door was open."
"Open doesn't mean public." He shut the door. "Who let you in? Which agency do you work for? If you're here to dust, you missed—"
"I'm not staff."
"Then you're trespassing." He dropped a book on the desk. Hard. "Explain why you're in street clothes, in here."
"Because your palace maid—Elise—talks about lightbulbs for an hour and I get one bar of signal here," Luna shot back. "No nameplate. No lock. It's a study. I needed to call my friends."
He stared for three seconds. "Get out. If I see you in here again, I'll have security remove you from the building."
"Happy to," Luna said, slipping past him. "Get a keypad lock. Security risk."
She took off down the corridor and ran straight into Meribel.
"Luna!" Meribel grabbed her. "Where were you? Elise said you vanished. Mom will—"
"Already met death," Luna muttered. "Tall. Expensive. Thinks he owns the place."
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
They found Rachel in a side salon, composed from her talk with Genevieve. She took one look at Luna's hair and Meribel's panic and said nothing. Private quarters were private.
"We're done," Rachel said. "The Queen was most impressed with our family." Her eyes skipped over Luna and landed on Meribel. "Most impressed." A flicker of something — apology? Calculation? — crossed her face and was gone.
Neither girl asked what the Queen said. They wouldn't. Rachel never volunteered and they'd learned not to pry.
On the way out, aides whispered. Up on the gallery landing, the boy watched the matte black Maybach pull away. His jaw was tight.
In the Maybach, Rachel didn't speak until they cleared the last Highmere checkpoint and the privacy glass was up. Only then, finally private.
"Genevieve adored you girls," she said, voice even. "Especially you, Luna. 'The smart one,' she called you."
Meribel's hands clenched in her lap. She looked down, suddenly fascinated by a thread on her skirt, and didn't look up again.
Rachel kept going, eyes forward. "We'll discuss Avaloria at home. Uniforms and housing. There's a month before term. Time to do it right."
Luna's head snapped up. "There are schools in Delaware." Her voice was flat. "Good ones. Why Avaloria?"
Rachel finally met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Avaloria is in the capital. It's the best in the country. Now that your dad is Duke of Delaware, we can afford the best. Our status requires it."
Luna stared. "So I lose Harrington for optics."
"We'll discuss it at home," Rachel said.
Luna turned to the window. One month. Then boarding. Then uniforms. Then the capital.
Her phone buzzed.
Eva: _WHO YELLED_
Harper: _Define 'yell'. Decibel range?_
Lily: _Are you okay??_
Luna typed: _Met a guy. He hates me. Think he lives here. Also my mom just drafted me to Avaloria. In the capital._
She didn't know his name. He didn't know hers.