17. Nina
17
NINA
At seven o’clock on the dot the next evening, Maia and a slew of people enter my room.
“Whoa, what’s happening?” I ask as the random people roll in a clothing rack and at least half a dozen glittery cases. “Who are they?”
Maia grins. A woman who seems to be in charge looks me up and down. She has a thick accent. “We’re your beauty team, courtesy of Princess Vanessa. We work on your clothes, hair, makeup, and jewelry together.”
I choke out a laugh. “Oh, no. That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a whole team for that. And I don’t like other people touching my hair.”
“They’re professionals,” Maia says.
“Yes, but I’m capable of doing my own hair.”
She releases a breath and takes my hand. “My fifth and eighth grade dance, all four of my homecomings, and my junior and senior prom. You did my hair and makeup for each and every one of them, including some of my friends. And then all of your own, too. Let yourself be pampered. Please. For me.”
I huff. Truth be told, I was dreading figuring out what to wear. I didn’t bring any clothes to wear to a club. What clothes would I even wear ? I’ve never been to one. “Only ‘cause you said please.”
I let this group of six women turn my room into a beauty parlor. My phone buzzes with a text.
Maia
No princess talk. They don’t know who we really are.
I respond with a thumbs-up emoji. One woman takes my measurements silently before she starts tapping on her phone. The leader, whose name is Greta, gives me a list of options about what to do with my hair. Maia says hers will be in an updo, and I don’t want to worry about whether this group of white women know how to do Black hair.
“Just—straighten it.”
My sister notices and frowns. “Are you sure? They know how to do our hair.”
“I want this to be simple. And you know I never straighten my own hair the right way.”
The team of women pamper me with products I can only dream of affording. Maia connects her phone to a speaker and plays some soft R&B. The club is supposedly extremely upscale with acrobats dancing in the sky and good music. We’re arriving separate from Vanessa in case paparazzi show up, and it jars me that I would have to deal with that if I accepted the crown.
What if Maldana hates me?
The world hated Princess Diana, and now she’s beloved. The world loved Meghan Markle, but soon turned against her—the hatred only inflamed because of her race. Given, the British population is different from a Mediterranean country, but racism is everywhere.
“Hey—no thinking,” Maia interjects, looking at me from her spot on the divan. “Tonight, we don’t think. We party.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I mumble.
The stylists straighten my hair before adding waves with a perfect amount of swoop. It curls away from my face to frame it and I would never have gotten this result on my own. I ask them in Maldanian if they could do my makeup light instead of heavy. The results are sleek, and it feels like I should be going to an event that’s way more important than a club. They show me an array of dresses that fit my measurements. I’m hesitant to pick the black-and-silver glittery one because it’s short. The neckline is a cowlick and no matter the angles in which I bend to test it, no boobs pop out. The material doesn’t slide up my thighs, so I won’t be constantly tugging it down.
It fits perfectly .
Maia gasps. “You have to wear that!”
I smile, holding back a giddy squeal. “I’ve never worn something that fits me so well.”
It shows me that I’ve always struggled with clothes that were too big or too small, wearing only on certain occasions or with certain shoes. Confidence surges through me at wearing clothes that fit like a glove.
My sister’s multi-colored, shimmery dress has a lace butterfly covering her back where the tips of the wings turn into straps. The style matches her personality.
The two of us are already tall—she’s five-eleven and I’m five-ten—but we tower over the entire beauty team once we step into heels that match our dresses. We have an iPhone photoshoot on the sofa and divan. Unlike before, I feel comfortable enough to be in front of the camera, and it helps that my sister is my biggest cheerleader.
Not long after arriving at the club, Maia insists we go to the lounge so she can order some food. Her excitement triples when she learns they serve vegetarian burgers. Leave it to my sister to order food the second we arrive.
“Shit!” Vanessa curses, scrubbing at the bread dip that fell onto her dress.
I lean over, then wave a hand. “Oh, that’ll come right out. I have a stain stick in my purse. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”
“A stain stick?” Vanessa echoes, scooting out of the booth.
Maia laughs as her food arrives. “She’s not kidding.”
“You coming?” I ask.
She pouts. “My burger just got here, though.”
“Okay, watch the drinks, then.” I pluck a couple of fries from her plate. She tries to smack my hand away.
“Hey!”
“Older sister tax,” I tell her while sliding out of the booth and holding the fries up in salute. “Thank you!”
Vanessa spends more time marveling over my stain stick than I do cleaning using it on her dress. “It’s so useful! And quick!”
“It’s definitely a lifesaver.”
The bathroom has more places to sit than pee. A large mirror and empty counter line one wall while a couch and chairs line the other. The sconces look more expensive than my college degrees.
“This isn’t your thing, is it?” Vanessa suddenly asks.
I perk, noticing my bored demeanor in the reflection. I smooth my hair. “Getting dressed up, yes. Going out, no.”
“It’s fun a little bit, no?” Her accent grows thicker the more nervous she is.
I square my shoulders and shake it off. I’m better than letting people feel uncomfortable in my presence. “Oh, yes, of course. I get to spend some time with you.”
She and Maia have already created a bond, and I suppose we haven’t because I don’t try. But that’s how it’s always been. My sister goes out to have fun while I consider the heavier, practical stuff.
I clear my throat in the silence. “What was it like… growing up here?” Being a princess. Being Aunt Beverly’s daughter. Being part of the Elias family.
“A little lonely, if I’m being honest,” Vanessa says, wringing her hands together. “Jace didn’t really want anything to do with me until I turned twenty. You know, the younger sisters are never cool enough.” She chuckles shakily. “I felt—frozen. Everything was. I kept asking my mother why she wouldn’t just become queen. The palace and the Higher Court were holding their breath, yeah? Waiting for something… For you. Everyone is much happier since you and Maia arrived. It’s like they have hope.”
“Hope for what?”
“For people to look at Maldana and see beauty. Strength. Family.”
Being the face and representation of such an amazing country is not the worst fate that someone can have. But the pressure to be a picture-perfect daughter makes me want to reject it. It’s unwise to let these decisions sway me because my past is done—I’m a grown woman and I can do as I please. If anything, my childhood can help me navigate the road ahead and avoid falling into those same patterns. Yet my stubborn side doesn’t want to do any of it. The alternative is starting this new job that I hate.
Was it ever really a choice?
Is my answer going to be yes?
“It’s…” I exhale. “It’s so much to take in. All I wanted was to learn about my real mom… and I get all of this.”
She tsks and sarcastically says, “Life is so unfair.”
The two of us break out laughing. I might not have grown up in a palace, but I’m among the richest in the world. Not by money, by having a loving family, an education, and food security.
I can help others have that, too.
Vanessa takes my hand. “I understand it’s overwhelming. But the Higher Court is filled with good people, and so is our family.”