Of Curses and Kisses Read online

  Isha was pawing through the books when a girl with curly dark hair looked up at her from a plush maroon settee and said, “Hey.”

  Isha turned, her smile instantaneous and warm. “Hi.”

  “I’m Raina. Are you new here?”

  As Isha began to forge a new friendship—a skill that had always come easily to her but seemed like magic to Jaya; her best friends were made from words—Jaya walked up and pressed the room key into her hand. Isha barely glanced at her as she said, “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be up in my room,” Jaya murmured as the round-cheeked, pale-skinned girl prattled on about which teachers were the best and which meals Isha should be wary of in the dining hall. Jaya got the feeling her jaw muscles were well exercised. “Text me when you’re ready to eat.”

  Isha nodded absently and then launched into a battery of questions.

  Jaya walked up two more flights of stairs, feeling slight misgivings at leaving Isha, even though she knew she’d be perfectly safe. She couldn’t help it; the need to protect Isha had been ingrained in her since she was young and they’d wander the palace grounds together as children.

  Homes didn’t get much safer than palaces—with bodyguards and grounds guards and shifty-looking men who tailed Appa and never took off their sunglasses… They were told to call them “uncles,” but someone had once told Jaya they were highly trained bodyguards. And when she was younger, they’d even had chained tigers along the borders of their land. (The tigers ate ninety pounds of raw meat at each meal. It hadn’t escaped Jaya that she’d weighed exactly that much at that age. She didn’t go anywhere in the vicinity of the tigers again after that realization.)

  So, yes, palaces were safe. But even so, Jaya was constantly alert so Isha wouldn’t fall in one of their many ponds or wander off into the forest beyond their property. When Isha leaned too far out a high palace window, eager to study a parrot perched in the mango tree outside, it was Jaya who grabbed the back of her tunic and pulled her back in, refusing to let go until her sister’s feet touched safe ground once again. While Isha flew down the marble stair banisters when Amma wasn’t looking, Jaya would run behind her, one hand out just in case Isha needed her.

  Isha was as unburdened by fear as Jaya was cautious. Even though they were only two years and two months apart, Isha seemed so much younger, so much more naive. As the eldest, it was Jaya’s responsibility to make sure Isha was always safe. And earlier this year, she’d failed completely in that duty. Bodyguards and tigers didn’t guarantee safety against every danger facing a royal family. Not even close.

  When Jaya emerged onto the senior wing, she saw Dr. Waverly was right about the floors being identical. Even the common area was the same as the one on Isha’s floor, except for a popcorn machine in one corner. A few students sat talking on the sofa, but none of them glanced up as she walked past. Jaya followed the hallway to room 301, and used the key Dr. Waverly had given her to let herself in.

  Her room looked comfortable enough. A bed made neatly with soft green linens was tucked into the corner. An ornate-but-functional desk, ready with the newest Mac laptop and a lamp, stood across from it. Jaya walked to the picture window and gazed down into the gardens, her hands shaking just the slightest bit as it finally hit her.

  She was here. She’d crossed a big hurdle already, without even trying: she’d met people who knew Grey Emerson and had been invited to sit with them. As far as Appa and Amma knew, they’d gone to St. Rosetta’s to get away from the constant media attention, to give Isha a break from the relentless circus her life had become, thanks to Grey’s family. Jaya felt only slightly guilty at having withheld some very important information from her parents. And just a touch proud. She could have been a spy if she wanted to. (But naturally she didn’t. That wasn’t a fitting profession for a royal.)

  The scandal had broken right before summer vacation, and the public outcry showed no signs of remitting. Appa’s face had been drawn and sallow. “I really do think the wisest course of action is for you to go with Isha to St. Rosetta’s International Academy. They’re used to this kind of thing there. It’s the best place for her now, Jaya. At least until everyone forgets. The astrologer says you’ll be safe there.”

  “I agree with you, Appa,” Jaya had replied, though hearing the once-proud Maharaja Adip Rao concede defeat made her stomach curdle like sour milk. The blood of so many great Rao rulers ran through Appa’s veins, and hers. They were cut from the same cloth; surrender didn’t even usually occur to them.

  That was when Jaya had realized that the Emersons hadn’t just sullied her sister’s reputation; they’d stolen something sacred. They’d tainted the essence of her family, the very pride and honor and strength that made them who they were.

  When the school year start date was a week away, their St. Rosetta’s welcome packet had come in the mail. In it were log-in details to a private online group for students at the Academy. Jaya had logged in, wanting to see who else she might recognize—the world of elites was smaller than you’d expect, really—when she’d seen it, in the E section. Her eyes went right to his name, like a soldier spying the glint of an enemy rifle.

  Name: Grey Emerson

  Formal Title: Lord Northcliffe of Westborough

  Added: 5 years ago

  Status: Inactive, never logged in

  Unlike everyone else’s profile, his didn’t have a picture. It was annoying; Jaya had been unable to find a single recent picture of Grey Emerson online, even with extensive googling. She couldn’t remember hearing much about him at any of the many events she’d attended over the years, except perhaps that his father, the duke, was an awful man. And that his mother had died in childbirth when Grey was born.

  But that was information about his parents, not really about him. It was like he wanted to stay hidden. Still, this much was true: an Emerson went to the very school Appa had picked, that their astrologer had picked. And not just any Emerson… the male heir of a family that found the Raos particularly deplorable. Just like the journalist had told her. The very person who’d brought so much pain to her family. The coincidence was remarkable. So much so that she began to wonder… was it a coincidence at all? Perhaps this was fate, finally smiling on the Raos. Perhaps it was an opportunity, perfectly laid out in Jaya’s path.

  Right then, staring at the screen, Jaya had known his presence at St. Rosetta’s meant something. Something big. There was no question; she would take the opportunity, as anyone would. A dark little sapling of a plan began to form in her mind.

  But if this was an opportunity, what was it an opportunity for, exactly? In the week following her discovery, Jaya had racked her brain. What could she do to Grey Emerson to exact her revenge? She’d thought of and discarded: poisoned tea, a carefully placed arrow to the heart, and laxative cake. All too obvious.

  And then, one day while she was in her room getting dressed, it had come to her.

  Jaya’d spun in a slow circle, until she was facing the mirror on her dresser. Looking at her reflection, she’d said, “What weapons do I have at my disposal?” Her bare hands, and nothing else. She blinked and watched her reflection blink back. You have gorgeous hair, she heard one of her governesses saying. And an aunt had once said to her mother, when she thought Jaya wasn’t listening, “You’ll have to keep an eye on this one, Parvati. Boys are going to be chasing her from the time she turns fourteen.”

  Hmm. Jaya had walked closer to her reflection. She did have a rather symmetrical face, and wherever she went, plenty of suitors. Who was it that said, “Beauty is a weapon; a smile is its sword”? Could she use that against Grey Emerson somehow?

  And then it came to her almost immediately.

  “You could break his heart,” she whispered to her reflection. “You could make him fall in love with you and wreak havoc on his life, just like he wreaked havoc on yours. You could teach him to never come after the Raos again.” Yes, she could certainly do that. The Emersons had shown her that emotional pain was infinitely
worse than physical agony.

  Now, as Jaya explored her new quarters, she thought about the decision she’d made. She felt a faint stirring of guilt, like leaves in a light breeze, at the thought of the extreme deception she’d be carrying out. But in the next instant, she pushed it away. An eye for an eye, that had always been her motto. She could let Grey Emerson believe she was the only one for him. She could pose as his perfect “other half.” She could be toxic and cancerous on the inside, but beautiful and serene on the outside. She could slowly infiltrate his life until he had no choice but to love her. And then she’d break his heart completely. Let Grey Emerson feel the torment of a shattered soul. Let him take it back to his father, to the entire Emerson clan—the Raos weren’t as meek or helpless as they seemed to think.

  But… could she really pull this off?

  Jaya walked to the dresser and ran a finger along its polished stone top, considering the enormous task before her, feeling the thrill of purpose, a twinge of anxiety at the unknown. Grey Emerson had to have a lot of poison in his heart for what he’d done to the Raos. But Jaya was certain that if she pretended she had no doubts about him, if she pretended to be suitably submissive and sweet and smitten, his giant male ego would have no hope but to fall for her.

  But in order to get him to that place, Jaya would have to work extremely hard. And what did she know about love, really? Or how to make a boy fall? She was completely out of her depth, a gladiator hoping to disguise herself at a debutante’s ball.

  Well, at the very least, this whole thing with Grey—pretending to be in love—could be practice for the real thing. Jaya had known from a very young age that she was meant to marry another Indian royal. Someone like Kiran Hegde. He knew what Jaya’s life was like, what was expected of her. The Raos and Hegdes had a good relationship, likely because the Rao dynasty was slightly bigger than the Hegde dynasty and they shared little competitive interest, being historical allies. There was no need to be unfriendly when you already had the better piece of pie.

  And, of course, Kiran had proved himself to be a valued ally when he’d connected Jaya with the journalist to get to the bottom of who was behind the scandal. They had a lot in common. Tradition and decorum were important to the both of them, for instance. Kiran wanted to go to an engineering college, which was somewhat interesting. And they both… well…

  Jaya bit her lip and regarded herself in the mirror. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly attracted to Kiran, not in the strictest sense of the word. Physically, he was gorgeous—tall enough, dark, and princely. But there was no emotional spark between them at all. According to Amma, that’d come later. What was important was that they had a solid foundation to build on.

  Kiran had the same expectations for himself as she did for herself. To him, there was nothing more important than the Hegde line. He could wax on for hours about the strength and virility (that he’d want to talk about the latter Jaya found… baffling, but she let it slide) of the Hegdes and how they were meant for even bigger things. Kiran might even be more passionate than Jaya about his position, which she found rather pleasing. There was something that could bind the two of them together. After Isha’s scandal, things had gotten a little… quiet with Kiran. A little cooler, probably because he was worried how being scandal-adjacent might affect the Hegdes. But Jaya was confident she could bring things back on track.

  Perhaps when she was done with Grey Emerson, Jaya would even be a master flirter (but still a subtle one, so as to not be gauche). She was okay at it, but she knew she had room to improve. If only that had been one of the courses she’d studied at any of the private schools she’d attended over the years.

  Jaya sighed and turned away from the mirror, pacing restlessly back toward the window. She would’ve never guessed the first time she fell in love, it would be a lie. There would be no fairy-tale Prince Charming for Jaya. But that was exactly what had to happen. In order to weaken Grey Emerson, Jaya had to get him to be vulnerable with her. And what made boys more vulnerable than love?

  * * *

  But there was something missing. How could Jaya get close enough to Grey to make this work? She grasped her ruby pendant, remembering a perfect spring fragmenting into a vicious summer.

  Appa had bought the necklace in Dubai in March. Before he’d left, he’d asked her what she wanted, and Jaya had said a red rose. Of course, Appa, being the generous, lavish man he was, had bought her a 24-karat gold-and-ruby rose pendant on a slender gold chain instead. It was stunning; eighteen rubies as big as her pinkie nail coiled in a tight spiral to the center, each ruby a cleverly stylized petal. Jaya had never seen anything like it. When Appa had handed it to her, nestled in its pale cream velvet box, she’d gasped. He’d smiled fondly. “Yes,” he’d said. “That was my precise reaction when I first saw it. A beautiful jewel for my beautiful gem of a daughter.” It had been an idyllic time, mild and slow and happy.

  But then… then the earth shook. Grey Emerson had come after Isha for no reason at all. The maliciousness of the photos and rumors he’d fed to the press had taken them all by surprise. Never in recent memory had things been this ugly. What had he been doing in Mysuru that summer anyway? Had he gone there specifically to see how he could hurt the Raos? But why now, and why Isha?

  Jaya took a deep breath, steadying herself. These were questions she’d get answers to one day soon. But for now, how was she going to make sure she had enough time to work on Grey Emerson? Yes, she was eating breakfast at his table on Thursday, but what after that? How could she ensure she was in his orbit enough to make him fall?

  Something Dr. Waverly said flashed through her brain, a sudden firework of inspiration. The office has notified me that your uniforms are ready for pickup and they’re finalizing your schedules now.

  Smiling, Jaya slipped her cell phone from her pocket and began to dial.

  Outside her window, the grasses swayed gently in the summer mountain breeze. In the distance, a stone fountain gurgled happily, its water sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight. It was peaceful and calm here. A haven.

  Grey

  For fuck’s sake. Couldn’t a guy just sit and read in peace?

  Grey glanced over his shoulder. At the other end of the long room, the repellant Alaric Konig and his minions, Lachlan McCoy and that redheaded douchebag Martin Stromberg, rounded on a sophomore. Grey couldn’t remember the sophomore’s name, but then again, Grey didn’t want to remember his name.

  “Nice uniform,” Alaric said, his blond hair carefully styled in a strange wave on his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s the one I donated to Goodwill last year.”

  Martin snickered. “Yeah. And those shoes are the ones I donated.”

  Nice one, Martin. Real original.

  “Leave me alone,” the sophomore boy said. “I’m just trying to study.”

  “Right, because otherwise they’ll take your scholarship away.” Alaric walked closer to the sophomore’s table and flipped his book shut. “Uh-oh. How’re you going to study now?”

  Grey groaned softly. He didn’t have to get involved; he knew that. But letting those assholes get away with this would really annoy him. He sighed and rose from the table, walking over just as the sophomore got up from his chair, puffing up his chest, strutting with a wannabe alpha-male swagger.

  Grey rolled his eyes. Yeah, kid. Like your skinny ass could take on those two. Still, you had to admire that kind of spirit.

  He felt the tone of the room shift as he walked closer and the four students noticed his presence. Grey had that kind of effect—because he was 6'4" and 220 pounds of muscle, most dudes didn’t want to mess with him. They could tell he could handle himself. And if you found him on your side, well, you tended to feel a whole lot better about your situation.

  “What do you want?” Alaric asked, but Grey saw his eyes touch on Lachlan and Martin, reassuring himself that there were three of them.

  “See that book over there?” Grey said, pointing back to his table. “I really want
to get back to it. So if you could leave this kid alone and just mosey on out of here, I’d really appreciate it. Don’t you have some hair product or other to buy?”

  “Think you’re funny?” Alaric asked, tossing his head so his gelled hair bounced a tad. “This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m talking to Scholarship Boy here.”

  Wide-eyed, the sophomore was watching them like they were on TV.

  “See, now that’s the kind of thing I need you to stop,” Grey said, stepping closer. He smiled a little, but his eyes were cold, remote.

  Alaric pulled himself to his full height, which was still three inches shorter than Grey. Even counting his hair. Grey Emerson wasn’t the least bit worried. He was, however, getting pretty irritated.

  Jaya

  A weight lifted off Jaya as she ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She could scarcely believe it had worked, but she wasn’t one to poke and prod at a good thing. That it had been so simple to get herself into each and every one of Grey Emerson’s classes was just further proof, she knew, that she was meant to be here. That she was meant to exact this revenge.

  Well, it was all taken care of now, which meant she could do something just for her. Jaya smiled. She knew where she wanted to go.

  * * *

  Libraries had a unique magic. No matter what country Jaya was in, no matter how far away from home, the glossy wood tables, the smell of book glue, and the whispers of riffling pages always welcomed her back like old friends.

  Pushing through a set of heavy double doors on the first floor of the West Wing, Jaya came to an abrupt stop, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

  St. Rosetta’s library, encased in plush, velvet silence, was three stories tall, with a large, circular first floor. Proud pillars flanked the curving staircases on either side. Jaya stood just inside the doors, her head tilted back, reveling in the breathtaking beauty of the old polished wood, the soft lighting, the enormous stacks of books towering over her. It was an ocean of words, and she stood on the seafloor, letting it wash over her before she made her way to the staircase.