Of Curses and Kisses Page 2

But Jaya would be her shield now. No Emerson would ever hurt her sister like that again.

  Jaya smiled her most convincing smile at the boys. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “I’d really like that.” And she’d worried finding a way to get close to Grey might be difficult.

  “Heyyyooo, what up?”

  A pale-skinned girl with cropped, flame-red hair bounded up to the boys, her smile ebullient. Even dressed in distressed denim shorts and a cropped white T-shirt, she carried herself with the effortless grace and easy nonchalance of someone who was used to being popular and well liked. At nearly the same height as Leo, who Jaya guessed was about six feet tall, she towered over both sisters. Her green eyes wandered over them slowly. “New meat?” she asked, glancing at her friends.

  Rahul pushed his glasses back, his mouth twitching with what looked like eager energy. “This is Rajkumari aka Princess Jaya and her sister, Princess Isha,” he replied. Jaya got the feeling he liked things “just so;” one of those people who believed rules and norms existed for a reason. They’d get along just fine. “Princesses, this is Daphne Elizabeth McKinley.”

  “More blue bloods?” Daphne Elizabeth said, cocking her head. Her accent was American, Jaya noticed. Isha and Jaya shared a mostly British accent that came with having attended schools all over the world that emphasized the virtues of the Queen’s English accent. The irony was that they’d been back in India for less than a year before disaster struck. Perhaps they should’ve stayed away.

  “Don’t we have enough of those?” Daphne Elizabeth continued. But her voice was gently teasing, inviting them to join in.

  Taking her cue, Jaya laughed. “Apparently not.”

  Daphne Elizabeth grinned. Her gaze falling to Jaya’s pendant, she whistled and leaned in. “I like your pendant.”

  Jaya smiled. “Thank you. My father got it for me.”

  “And look who is talking about blue blood,” Leo said, rolling his hazel eyes. To Jaya and Isha, he added, “Daphne Elizabeth is the heiress of the McKinley dynasty.”

  Jaya saw the revelation on Isha’s face mirror hers. “McKinley Hotels!” Jaya said, smiling fondly. “Love your heated towels. Wrapping up in one after a long day is the best feeling.”

  A group of boys, other seniors from the look of them, walked past them and toward the French doors to their left. Daphne Elizabeth’s eyes followed them. “Glad to hear it,” she said, forcing her gaze back to Jaya. A tinkling sound permeated the air. “Oh, that’s my cell. I’ll catch you guys later. Ta!” And off she went, pulling her cell phone from her pocket.

  Leo looked after her, shaking his head. “Elle est toujours presée. Rushing, rushing, rushing.” Turning to Jaya and Isha, he said, “All right, we were going to help one of our friends unpack. You ladies are welcome to go with us…?” He tossed a questioning look at Rahul, who nodded.

  “Oh, well, thank you,” Jaya said. “But I think we need some time to unpack too, and rest after our flight.”

  “Okay,” Rahul said, already turning away.

  “Dr. Waverly! New people!” Leo called out. Jaya turned to see a middle-aged woman with pale, fragile-looking skin turn to survey them from across the entrance hall. When she caught sight of the sisters, recognition flashed across her face and she began to hurry over. Leo waved and followed Rahul to the doors. “See you tomorrow in the dining hall!”

  Isha turned to Jaya. “What was that about Grey Emerson going here?” she said, speaking quickly, before the headmistress was close enough to overhear. “Jaya… did you know about that? Because I’m pretty sure Appa and Amma don’t.” Isha was supposed to call her “Akka,” the honorific title bestowed upon elder sisters. But Jaya didn’t have time to argue that point.

  She arranged her face into the most nonchalant expression she could. “Of course I didn’t know. And we probably shouldn’t tell Appa and Amma. I mean, what’s the point of worrying them? We’ll just keep out of his way and he’ll keep out of ours, okay? Remember, we’re supposed to lie low.” She was a rather good liar when she wanted to be, but still, her heart pounded. If Isha told their parents, she’d be utterly—

  Never mind. The word that came to mind was too improper to mention.

  Isha bit her lip, studying Jaya carefully. Finally, she nodded. Jaya breathed out a silent sigh of relief, thankful for Isha’s younger-sister-level trust in her.

  “Okay,” Jaya said, putting an arm around Isha and squeezing her. “Besides, I won’t let it be a problem. I promise.”

  Dr. Waverly’s heels echoed across the lavish Moroccan tiles as she made her way to them. “Princess Jaya and Princess Isha,” she said deferentially in a mid-Atlantic accent, bowing slightly. “I’m Dr. Christina Waverly, the headmistress here at St. Rosetta’s International Academy. We are honored to have you join us. I am so sorry we had no one waiting for you. I was informed that you wouldn’t be arriving until much later tonight.” She paused, her gaze lingering on the rose pendant, as most people’s did. “Oh my. What a beautiful piece of jewelry.”

  Jaya smiled in her most gracious manner, channeling Amma. “Thank you so much. My father acquired it at a gold souk in Dubai.”

  “He has exquisite taste.” Jaya could tell Dr. Waverly was trying her hardest not to stare at the rubies. The necklace’s strangely mesmerizing effect was what had enchanted Appa in the first place.

  “Thank you,” Jaya said again. “Oh, and please call me Jaya and my sister Isha. We decided to take an earlier flight from Munich. You couldn’t have known.”

  Dr. Waverly nodded, the double strand of pearls around her neck clattering together. She was clearly a jewelry aficionado herself. Folding her hands neatly against her navy skirt, she asked, “I trust your travels were uneventful?”

  “They really were,” Jaya answered quickly, nearly forgetting her manners and asking if Dr. Waverly could show them to their rooms already. She had so much to plan. If this were a fairy tale, she might be cackling while bent over a bubbling cauldron. Except, obviously, she was the heroine in this one.

  “Excellent,” Dr. Waverly said, gesturing toward an open, wood-paneled archway. “Then I can take you both up to your dorms. Of course, with Isha being a sophomore and you being a senior, you will be in different wings.” She smiled apologetically. “I did speak to the Maharaja about it.”

  “Yes, he told us,” Jaya said as they wound around the large hall. Across from them, a fireplace soared to the ceiling. She could’ve easily walked in with her arms spread wide and had room to spare on either side.

  “That is so cool,” Isha said, following her gaze. “How much snow do you get here?”

  “It’s not uncommon for us to get close to thirty inches in December and then again in the spring,” Dr. Waverly said, smiling a little. “We encourage students to take advantage of the shopping trip in late October to go into Aspen and buy winter gear. It gives you a chance to get to know your cohorts better off campus as well.”

  Jaya had no interest in shopping or getting to know her cohorts, though of course Dr. Waverly couldn’t have known that. No one did. Jaya’s only interest was Grey Emerson.

  One thing she’d come to realize—sabotage wasn’t always cloak-and-dagger. It wasn’t always dead-of-night escapades, or masked people swathed in midnight and stars. Sometimes it looked like this: ageless mountains that kept watch and saw all. An elite boarding school 8,800 miles away from home. And somewhere deep inside, an unsuspecting aristocrat.

  Grey

  Grey sat back against the rough granite on Mount Sama and looked down at the tiny town of St. Rosetta, shops and small buildings dotting it like thorny burrs. In the distance, he could make out the bigger neighboring town of Aspen. In a couple of months, everything would be covered in a heavy coat of snow. Grey liked the snow; he felt perfectly hidden in its thick, cold folds.

  The wind whipped around him, nine thousand feet in the air, and Grey closed his eyes, reveling in the chill. Thursday was the beginning of a new school year—his last. Summer was already melting
into fall, and soon he’d turn eighteen. He swallowed, trying to distract himself from the thought. Eighteen meant… complications. Complications he didn’t want to think about right then.

  This summer had passed him by somehow. The other students and teachers had all flown home. Leo, whose parents were surgeons who traveled the world fixing up people who couldn’t otherwise be fixed, flew out and met them wherever they happened to be. Daphne Elizabeth, whose parents ignored her the entire summer and then lavished her with gifts right before she left, which she’d grudgingly admitted made being ignored almost worth it, still went home whenever she could. And if her parents didn’t want her, she’d go visit some other family member. Even Rahul, whose parents rented a tiny chalet in France every summer because he was too “odd” to live with them at their home in Delhi, took the summer to be with family.

  When Leo had left, he’d frowned at Grey. “When are you going home?”

  “Tomorrow,” Grey had said, looking away.

  “Ouais, mais… If you don’t have any place to be, you can come to Thailand with me. We could go snorkeling.”

  Grey had shaken his head. “No. But thanks.”

  Leo, like Daphne Elizabeth—or DE as almost everyone called her—and Rahul, was clueless about the curse, the reason Grey was never invited home. They knew Grey didn’t like talking about his family or his home, so they never brought them up.

  But never bringing them up didn’t change the truth: that something dark stalked him, had stalked him since birth. That the Rao curse might have already claimed someone he cared about, and he was terrified it would claim him next. Maybe other people would find it odd that Grey, a well-educated, not-quite-eighteen-year-old, would believe in such a thing. But what choice did he have? When other kids were learning their ABCs and “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” Grey was learning the words to a familial curse. Ever since he could remember, he’d been told nothing, nothing, was as important as the curse was. So the least he could do to atone for his mother’s death—for which he took full responsibility—was to keep away from the manor, to keep his father cushioned from the reminder. He didn’t blame his father at all.

  The only real place Grey felt safe, like he couldn’t hurt anyone, was in the mountains. The great towering stone, jutting out from the earth like vengeful gods, felt indestructible. They’d been there millennia before Grey, and they’d be here long after he was gone.

  His cell phone beeped in his pocket. Grey frowned; he’d forgotten to silence it.

  Where are you?

  It was Leo. The other students, even those who, for some unknown reason, considered themselves his “friends,” were all back for the semester, but he’d purposefully made himself scarce. Being alone over the summer always did something to him—the longer he spent alone, the more alone he wanted to be. Sometimes he imagined the world without him. Would anyone really miss him when he was gone? By all accounts, his existence was a cosmic mistake anyway.

  Out, he typed back.

  Oh, oui, out, the response came back immediately. That makes everything clearer.

  Grey waited.

  We met someone interesting, Leo, used to Grey’s cryptic silences, added. Princess Jaya Rao and her sister, Isha. You know them? They seemed to know of you.

  Grey felt a jolt of shock travel up his spine. The Rao sisters were here? But why?

  He took a breath. He’d lived under the shadow of the Rao curse his entire life. He distinctly remembered being dropped off at St. Rosetta’s when he was almost six years old, about to begin kindergarten. In Dr. Waverly’s leather-and-brass office, his father had looked him in the eye. Dr. Waverly was waiting outside, giving them some privacy to say their goodbyes.

  “Listen to me, Grey,” Father had said solemnly, and Grey had known whatever he was about to say was important. He’d listened very closely. “You’ll never be like the other children here, even though many of them are outcasts themselves. You’re… different. You’ll always be different.” Father’s face had contorted ever so slightly. “The Raos have seen to that. This is your burden to bear.”

  Grey still remembered his confusion. “But I want to make friends,” he’d said.

  Father had grasped him by the upper arm, hard. His water-colored eyes bored into Grey’s. “You must keep to yourself,” he’d said, each word slow and deliberate. “You hurt Mother because of what you are.”

  Grey had stared, aghast. Of course Mother was dead, but had he killed Mother somehow? Why had no one told him before now?

  “The curse,” Father had said, still looking at him in that unsettling way. “Do you remember what I’ve told you about your curse?”

  Grey nodded, his mind still reeling with what he’d just learned, about his hand in Mother’s death. But the poem was ingrained in him. Father had taught it to him when he was very young. He remembered the curse.

  “The curse has tainted your blood. It’s like a virus.” Seeing Grey’s incomprehension, he’d grunted impatiently. “And because of that, you won’t ever have any friends. People will sense there’s something wrong with you; they’ll hurt you. Best to keep your distance and save yourself the pain. Do you understand?”

  Grey had nodded again, trying to grasp what was being said. The curse… the curse had caused Mother to die. Already, he could feel a tiny hardening in his heart, like it was growing a protective shell. He wouldn’t cry. He didn’t need to cry.

  Letting go of Grey, Father had gotten up abruptly and walked to the door. His hand on the knob, he’d said without turning around, “You can come home at the holidays.” And then he’d left. Grey was never invited home for the holidays.

  And now the Rao sisters were here. But… so what? St. R’s was a popular school with international students of checkered backgrounds. If anything, their sudden appearance should be a reason for curiosity and interest, not alarm. The universe didn’t revolve around Grey.

  Vaguely, he responded.

  Well, you can meet them at breakfast Thursday, Leo typed. But do you want to meet for dinner tonight? Just us guys and DE?

  No, Grey typed, and put away his phone. Leo would no doubt be hurt, but no doubt he’d forgive Grey. Why, Grey wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like he gave him or Rahul or DE anything to hang on to. Maybe they thought of him as charity. Grey ground his teeth, his jaw set. Let them think of him whatever they wanted to. They were immaterial. They had to be.

  He sat back against the boulder behind him and closed his eyes. The time had almost come for him to step out from his hideaway, as it did every year.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jaya

  Dr. Waverly, Isha, and Jaya approached another set of stairs at the north end of the building. These were wide, with carved mahogany balustrades, and covered in a rich red-and-tan carpeting. A large skylight overhead let in sunlight that fell in dappled squares on each step. Jaya trod on the patches of light, feeling the warmth beaming through her shirt and seeping through her shoes.

  Two very young-looking students passed them, going down. They smiled politely at Dr. Waverly, darting curious glances Isha and Jaya’s way.

  “Hello, girls,” Dr. Waverly said. To the sisters, she continued, “This environment can take some getting used to, but I want you to know the faculty and staff at St. Rosetta’s are committed to your success. We’re always here to meet any of your needs. The front office is staffed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, during the school year to cater to our international students and families. We have students from a hundred countries around the world, you’ll be interested to know.” Jaya bit her lip to keep from smiling; Dr. Waverly sounded exactly like the official school brochure. “We’re very flattered to have people of your caliber choose us, Prin—Jaya.”

  “Of course,” Jaya said, reciting the response she’d practiced with Amma a dozen times before they left. “It’s essential that we attend an Ivy League university in the US, and our parents feel St. Rosetta’s will best prepare us to do so.”

  “And after w
e graduate, we can sit on the same charity boards as our mother and drink chai with the same boring ladies every afternoon,” Isha muttered under her breath. When Jaya darted a warning glance at her, her face was smooth and impassive. She even batted her eyes for good measure. It was exactly this kind of attitude that had gotten them into the situation they were in in the first place.

  “I’d say your parents chose wisely, but I am, of course, quite biased.” Dr. Waverly laughed quietly and led them to what a gold-lettered sign proclaimed to be the SOPHOMORE WING.

  “Thank you,” Jaya said as Isha poked around. “I think Isha and I will be okay from here.”

  “I could show you your room in the senior wing, if you wish…”

  “No, that’s all right.” Jaya smiled. “I can find it myself. It’ll help me get a feel for things, if you don’t mind.”

  Dr. Waverly studied her for a moment before smiling back. “Independence. I do respect that.” She handed Jaya two keys. “Those are printed with your suite numbers. Classes begin at eight a.m. Thursday, which gives you a day and a half to settle in. The office has notified me that your uniforms are ready for pickup and they’re finalizing your schedules now. That should be everything you need for your first days. Please let me know if I can be of service.”

  Once Dr. Waverly disappeared down the stairs, Jaya turned to survey the sophomore wing. Isha was already perusing a bookcase to their left. The wall nearest Jaya was lined with photographs in gilt frames. A sign informed her that these were just a few of the notable people who’d graduated from St. Rosetta’s International Academy. There were kings and queens, prime ministers, presidents, famous novelists, musicians, artists, and a few A-list Hollywood actors and actresses.

  Jaya wandered into the common area where a couple of students lounged, talking or texting on their phones. More than a century of students’ feet had worn silk-smooth grooves into the wood. The floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall overlooked the rolling greens of the campus with the purple-black mountains beyond. Green velvet sofas and gold armchairs were arranged strategically in front of a fireplace.