Page 74 of The Prince's Bride: Part 2

“I know, ma’am.”

“I pray for all of our sakes that you do.”

Snip.

Chapter 16

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My dress for the Royal Bellecoeur Garden Party was a modest soft-pink, knee-length, long-sleeved, tailored-bodice cocktail, and I did not like it. It was not that it was ugly; it was just very church mother-ish. However, the queen had chosen it, so I said nothing. In fact, she had personally selected every piece of jewelry, my shoes, my clutch, and even my makeup for today, choosing how she wished me to look. And I said I would just accept it all. However, as I sat in the chair to get my hair done, I regretted that.

“Wait,” I said when she brought out a flat iron.

“Her Majesty says you will wear it straight today,” my new hairstylist said.

I could not remember her name, and in all honesty, I did not think she would last long. She was the sixth in what felt like a disappointing, never-ending line of hairstylists Gelula had searched for and brought back to me with hope shimmering in her eyes.

I tried to give each one at least a single try. Some weren’t that bad, but they weren’t great, either. Now this stranger's first job would be to straighten my hair. I could not remember the last time I had straightened my hair. Even though I always complained about combing it out and wrapping it up and taking care of it, I loved it as it was.

“If we do not start now, we won’t finish in time,” the stylist said, and I followed her gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

There, standing at attention, was Gelula and the queen’s assistant just watching. And it made me feel worse. I knew their jobs were to stay and help in any way they could, but part of me felt like they were just watching out of curiosity. I was not a zoo animal.

“May I start?” the stylist asked.

I wanted to say no.

But instead, I nodded.

And so, she began to take my curls, section by section, through the hot plates, pressing them out till they were bone straight. Each time she did, I saw my hair fall. I couldn’t help but wonder how I was not a zoo animal. I hadn’t left this cage in weeks. I could not go anywhere, not that I knew where to go. But still, I was locked in. Being trained to walk and sit and eat the way they wanted me to.

I was a zoo animal.

This was a circus.

And I had walked right into it.

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