This evening, though, there was a shared event on their calendar. On national television.
A public reunion after his abandoning her was perhaps poor planning on his part, but after her failed attempt at reaching out to him she hadn’t been willing to try again. She had some pride.
And she had something else, too. It was strange and powerful and new, but she recognized the feeling that coursed through her for what it was: rage.
Shaking her head to clear it of thoughts of him, Mina turned to d’Tierrza. “Roz and her team aren’t due for another hour,” she said.
D’Tierrza smiled. “So you expect them any minute?”
“Exactly. Though for the life of me I don’t know why she seems to delight in catching me off guard so much. You’d think she’d want me cooperative.”
“She wants you too confused to say no to her.”
“What do you mean by that?” Mina asked—just as Roz and her team burst into the suite.
Mina sighed, but only because she knew she would never get her answer now, rather than over the frenzy that was about to begin. She welcomed that. It was just enough of a distraction—and the only form of armor she had—to keep her mind off the fact that she would be in the same room with Zayn again in a matter of hours.
Tonight, though, she dressed for herself—not for her husband, not for her role as Queen, not for academia, and not for her father. Just for her.
Tonight, she and the King would appear together on theJasper Caspian Show—the most popular late-night show in all of Cyrano—and tonight, and for evermore, she would be herself.
She caught the makeup artist’s eye. “Tonight, I want to be as flawless as you.”
Sabine laughed, the faintest pink showing on her cheeks as the only sign that she had taken the Queen’s words in. “Impossible,” she said dismissively—only to ruin the effect with a wink and the words, “But I’ll get you damn close.”
Mina turned to her wardrobe next. “This will be my biggest audience yet. I want to show the world the everyday Queen Amina, while also looking breathtaking. And I want comfortable shoes. Can you make that happen?”
Catriona snorted and rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that exactly what I do every time?”
Mina laughed, shaking her head as she turned to her hairdresser. “Down and free tonight,” she said. “I’m tired of tying myself in knots and shrinking myself to fit. Big hair—don’t care.”
Byron smiled warmly, showing full teeth. “Great minds, Your Majesty.” Then he inclined his head toward her, adding a small flourish with a twirl of his comb.
Finally, she came to Roz and her assistant. “How did I do?”
Roz snorted, the sound dry for all that it was nasal. “You managed to get your point across. Passable. An autumnal seventies theme will tie everything together. You’re going to charm the nation tonight.”
Coming from Roz, that last declaration might as well have been a tearful embrace.
Mina raised an eyebrow. “And here I was, thinking I’d done that with the Queen’s Ball.”
“Pish. You stunned them then. Absolutely stopped them in their tracks with just an image. Tonight, they’ll see you alive, moving, speaking, breathing—your darling, refreshing, self on full display.”
Mina winked at Chloe, Roz’s assistant, before saying, “Be careful, Roz. All that praise might go to my head.”
Roz’s voice crackled as it rolled out as casually and slowly as sagebrush. “Keep in mind that ‘refreshing’ can get old.”
D’Tierrza smothered a laugh from wherever it was she had faded into the background and Mina pretended to be offended when, really, she was nearly as content as she had ever been.
In all her years of research, Dr. Amina Aldaba would never have predicted that here she would stand, in a palace, surrounded not by colleagues, but by true, real friends. An unexpected rag-tag bunch they might be, but they were real.
Make-up came first. Once again, Sabine used colorful powders to draw out the gold and green flecks in Mina’s eyes, but this time, rather than smoky, the palette the woman chose held tones which could only be described as down-to-earth—rich, deep browns, buttery tans, and shimmering cream.
Wardrobe came next, and Mina pulled on the soft, snug-fitted cashmere sweater they had picked out for her. The sweater was the color of ripe pomegranates and had a simple and elegant wide crew neck. It was paired with a pleated midi-length A-line skirt in the same color, and a thin tan leather belt that cinched her at the waist. The espadrilles that went with it were gorgeously comfortable, as well as flattering, and immediately became Mina’s favorite royal footwear.
Her hairstylist left her hair down, using his comb to add mountains of volume and his curling rod to define and touch up individual curls here and there. The highlights he had given her before combined with the artfully tousled curls to make her look simultaneously natural, sexy, and straightforward all at once. She couldn’t have asked for better.
When she looked in the mirror, she finally saw herself. Queen Mina. Not boxed-up Dr. Aldaba, and not the bursting star of Queen Amina. Just simple, lovely, honest, and kind Queen Mina. A common woman of the highest quality, showcased as much by the open expression on her face as by the top-tier fabrics she wore.