Her face was, if not flawless, near perfection. Light and breathable, her makeup looked like it was barely there, even as it highlighted and sculpted her features, emphasizing her eyes and lips in a way that made her blush at her reflection.
Her eyes reflected not just her recently revealed beauty—beauty that even she could appreciate now—but also the intelligence that she had worked so hard for.
She wasn’t merely a pretty distraction for her nation. She wasn’t merely a brilliant scientist—or even just a gifted linguist and scholar. She was a multifaceted queen, not only fit, but ideally suited to the job.
She had even almost earned the love of her King. She’d known it in the desperate way he’d held her the night before he’d left.
And now, like the straw and smoke they were, her hollow attempts at mental bolstering faltered and dispersed, and she was left standing in front of a mirror, about to join Zayn for an interview, to sit beside him under the public’s scrutinizing gaze, knowing that she had offered him everything she had and he had refused it.
But she didn’t let any of that show on her face. The people around her had worked too hard to make her look pretty for her to let them down with a frown.
Nothing got past hawk-eyed Roz, though. Catching Mina’s eye in the mirror, the woman said, in an overloud voice, “Since it’s late-night, we wanted to go with something earthy and sensual while remaining well within the bounds of propriety. With your perfect height and coloring that obviously meant updated nineteen-seventies casual glamour.”
Mina’s smile finally reached her eyes. “Obviously.”
“If anyone asks you who you’re wearing, tell them you don’t know. It’ll be nonchalant and more natural for you, since you’ll never remember if I tell you. We sent a press release—they can find the answer there.”
“Should I be expecting that kind of question?”
Roz snorted. “Of course. This is television. All they really care about is fashion and sex.”
Mina blushed, the heat deepening the brown of her cheeks and setting off her makeup highlights charmingly. The aesthetician was really a magician.
“Let’s hope not.” She laughed through it. “I’m better versed in biochemistry.”
Roz waved her away. “Yes. Well, one can’t help one’s shortcomings...”
D’Tierrza’s laughter bounced around the room, and the sound of it eased some of the squeeze around Mina’s heart.
She squared her shoulders and turned to her two guards. “Shall we go?”
Moustafa nodded, a faint smile softening the seriousness with which she did everything. D’Tierrza grinned like a fox.
Roz draped a sleeveless cape over her shoulders, and handed her a small leather clutch that matched her belt.
Mina turned to her team. “Thank you, as always. Your magic amazes me.” To Roz, she said, “You’re a queen-maker.”
Roz rolled her eyes. “Of course I am. Now, go. And expect miracles.”
Mina opened her mouth to ask a follow-up question, but d’Tierrza was already drawing her away.
Stepping into the barrage of flashing lights, microphones and cameras was by far the most challenging thing Mina had done yet as Queen. There had been a red carpet and press at the Queen’s Ball, but nothing compared to the walk from her car to what was supposed to be the private entrance for guests on theJasper Caspian Show.
Perhaps it was the combination of royalty and television, but it was all Mina could do to keep a smile plastered on her face and answer the odd question.
When someone shouted, “Who are you wearing?” she turned the plastered-on smile in their direction.
“I have no idea,” she said. Just like Roz had told her to.
“What’s your favorite sex position?”
She was saved from acknowledging that question by reaching the end of the gauntlet.
Once inside the studio, she closed her eyes, drawing in a long, slow, deep breath before opening them and looking around.
Everything was painted black and, industrial as a result of form and function rather than design. Soundproofed walls separated the set and studio audience from what went on backstage, which mostly appeared to be men walking around with clipboards wearing dark, loose-fitting clothing and headsets.
One such man, slender, pale, and young, with shaggy brown hair and a pair of dusty black cargo pants, met Mina and her guards at the door.