She went about the routine that she had at every school—she took a tour of the classroom while chatting with the teachers and their support staff, then read a book to the children with her best Liechtienbourger accent. She read the same story every time, one she’d taken from Johan’s bedside bookshelf to practice her language. It was about an evil witch who learns to love the deer who keeps eating the medicinal herbs she plants in her garden.

At the end of the reading, the children crowded around to take a photo, and Nya handed her phone to Greta. “Can you take a few for me?”

Greta snapped the photos, and as Nya hugged the children goodbye, a little girl with skin the same dark brown as Nya’s own held on for much longer than the others. She said something, but too low and with the gap-toothed lisp of a child, making it difficult for Nya to understand.

Her teacher grinned. “She says that she asked her mamm if she can wear her hair in braids, too, because princesses have braids.”

“Oh.” Nya’s heart filled with an unexpected joy, but also sadness. She hadn’t thought of this aspect of her and Johan’s soon-to-be breakup, which would make the headlines. She hadn’t thought of it really because, technically, Johan wasn’t a prince. But no one paid that much mind at this point—his reign as playboy prince was something so many people saw as just as valid as any other type of royalty. How many girls looked at Nya and saw their own princess potential in her? How many would be disappointed by this game she’d decided to play?

“Well, whatever hairstyle you wear can be a princess hairstyle, because anyone can be a princess,” Nya said, knowing it was a bad reply, but completely at a loss for how to respond. Giving the child an affirmative was further into the realm of lying than she was willing to go.

The girl just smiled, tightening the clamp of guilt around Nya.

She patted the girl’s head and then stood, walking over to Greta.

“Here you go,” Greta said as she handed back her phone. “We should get back to the castle.”

She was giving Nya a strange look and when Nya looked at the phone, there was a message from Portia in view on the screen.

Portia: Guys, I have to tell you about this new face mask I’m using. The main ingredient is SNAIL SLIME okay I know that sounds gross and I feel bad for the snails who died so my skin could glow, but my face is SO SOFT.

“Oh, please excuse my friend,” she said.

“Friend? What friend, I didn’t see anything.” Greta smiled but it looked forced. She appreciated the assistant’s lie, but she was clearly upset. Maybe Greta was a vegan?

“Shall we return?”

“We shall.”

The rest of the ride back was spent in frigid silence from Greta, who apparently was a lover of all creatures great and small and now thought Nya was friends with unrepentant snail killers and would hold it against her.

Nya frowned, then unlocked her phone to see if Johan had sent a message from the meeting he’d attended with Linus to make amends for punching the opposition leader. He hadn’t texted, but Hanjo had.

The time for freedom from this outdated institution is near. I know you’ve doubted if what I’m doing is right, but I’m so lucky to have you by my side as I work to dismantle this oppressive system.<3

She’d missed the message and would have to restart from the previous save point.

This was the biggest difficulty of the game, which was relatively straightforward apart from the timing of the messages. It operated in the same way a real relationship did. How much time were you willing to put into it? How anxiously were you awaiting calls and texts from your beloved?

This would be the fourth time she’d had to restart the game since she’d arrived. Once she’d started sleeping with Johan, she’d found it rude to creep off in the middle of the night to flirt with a virtual version of him. But she’d already spent too much money buying the ability to respond to old messages, and she simply didn’t have the desire to play anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to keep playing her games, but this one felt creepy now. It felt like cheating.

She closed the app without answering. She was done with One True Prince—she wouldn’t like it if Johan had some virtual version of the real-life her that he carried in his pocket. Maybe she would revisit Rognath instead.

“Have you heard from Johan?” she asked Greta. She couldn’t help but remember his reaction when Greta had mentioned the opera that first day, and wondered if he was still unsure about going. It couldn’t be because he didn’t want to be seen with her, could it? Not after the last two weeks?

“No.” The woman didn’t look at her.

“Is there some reason you’re behaving rudely?” She had tolerated quite enough rudeness in her life.

“Am I?” Greta asked. “I just didn’t want to talk to you, so I didn’t.”

“Oh, um. I get that,” Nya said.

“If you’d like me to talk, I can ask, what are your intentions toward Johan?”

Nya paused. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

“No, I suppose not. But I’ve been his assistant for years and I’ve never seen him like this. Ever.”

Nya’s heart swelled in her chest. Maybe her dreams weren’t so foolish after all. Maybe—

“I don’t want to think badly of you, and I’m not going to invade your privacy, but I have to tell you that he shouldn’t have his heart broken. It wouldn’t be fair, after all he’s been through. So you wanted to talk? Consider this a warning—if you’re up to something, stop being up to something.” Greta’s serious expression faded then, and she sat back in the seat with relief. “Ah, I’m so glad you asked me to talk. It’s good to have things in the open, jah? I’ve been working on this in counseling with my boyfriend, but it helps on the job, too!”