The Reins' of Our Birth

(3) Homesick

I was more confused than taken aback, my curiosity piqued.

"I always assumed royals were homeschooled, you know, like in 'The Princess Diaries' kind of way," I mumbled.

One of the girls sitting across from me, Rachel, lifted her head from her phone, offering the sort of sympathetic smile reserved for innocent but uninformed questions.

"Isn't she... adorable," Rachel replied, her tone tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

She reminded me of the other stuck-up girls I'd encountered at the stables.

"Pay her no mind; she's just a tad cranky because her dad won't let her skip school for Taylor Swift's concert," Imogen teased Rachel, playfully sticking out her tongue.

"Many monarchs have attended this school; it's something of a royalty hotspot around the world. Noora here is a Saudi princess," Imogen gestured to the girl quietly seated beside me, engrossed in 'Cleopatra and Frankenstein'.

"Imogen! It doesn't even count, in Saudi it's abit different. I'm just one of 94 grandchildren," Noora replied sheepishly, as if slightly embarrassed by the attention. Her accent was a delightful blend of American, British, and Arabic. She possessed a golden-toned beauty that effortlessly embodied universal standards. Her thick, lustrous hair cascaded in perfectly layered waves, exuding a natural allure that needed no proclamation. If she claimed to be a teenage Miss Universe, I would have believed her without hesitation.

"Anyway, I'm surprised you've never been bombarded with his TikTok edits on your 'For You' page. He's like a gen-z Prince William. He has a legion of internet fangirls creating slow-motion edits of him. Valid but weird" Imogen cringed.

"Oh, please, don't remind me! There was this dreadful paparazzi shot of him sigh me in the background outside Annabel's that his fan girls love to use," Rachel closed her eyes and shook off the memory.

"You looked absolutely stunning in that photo, Rachel!" another girl in our circle chimed in with reassurance.

Internally, I rolled my eyes.

A bell rang from inside the nearby dorm.

"Quick! We've got to head to the orientation," Imogen linked arms with me again.

"Don't worry; I'll fill you in on who's who and what's what," she added.

—

Orientation took place in our common room, a brief and to-the-point gathering, primarily a celebration of our transition to senior year and our aspirations for university. Among us, myself and another French girl, Rose, were the sole newcomers to our dorm.

As soon as it concluded, I discreetly slipped away from the common room while Imogen and the other girls were engrossed in conversation and retreated to my dorm.

I retrieved my phone from my back pocket and unlocked it to message Tilly:

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MESSAGES

Pheobe: Hey Tills, how is Seychelles?

Tilly: Hi Phi! Miss u so much xxxxx Watching the sunset at the beach

Tilly: *sends a photo*

Phoebe: so pretty, have fun and come back soon please

Tilly: How's your first day? Xxx

Pheobe: all good. You aren't my roomie anymore, Mrs Freda's decision :( I am with Imogen, shes nice.

Tilly: no way!!! I am so sad :( Imogen is the best, did you meet anyone else? xxxx