A few palace guards surrounded the monarchs, forcing the crowd to keep a wide berth. The queen loved talking to the townspeople, but in large crowds such as this one, things could get dangerous fast.
Roman thanked them both and kissed the side of Violet’s head. “Do you mind waiting with my parents while I pose for the picture?”
“Of course not,” Violet said, shooing him toward the podium. “I plan on having one of the palace artists copy it to hang in my sewing room.”
Roman shook his head lightly, kissed her once more for good measure, and jogged over the podium, wondering how his life could get any better than this.
36
Violet held open the door to the beauty shop for War to slip inside. After Roman’s competition, she’d convinced him to let her escape for a while to get ready for their birthdays the following day. She needed her hair trimmed and wanted to pick out a new lip paint. Roman didn’t know it yet, but Violet organized a surprise party for after his private coronation.
Only Roman’s real friends and his and Violet’s families would be there since Roman hated big celebrations. She couldn’t wait to see the look of surprise on his face.
The moment she stepped into the shop with War, conversation ceased. They knew her here, she’d been coming for years, but today they looked at her differently. Word traveled fast, and everyone knew she was to be the next queen. Many still believed the crown should find Vivian and force her to marry Roman.
Despite Violet’s newfound fame, people rarely approached her with War at her side. She’d never been more grateful for the terrifying beast.
Except when he’d saved her life. Twice.
Gunnar, Violet’s usual stylist, offered her a bright smile. His light brown shoulder-length curls brushed the top of his shoulders, longer than the last time she’d seen him. His blue, flowy top floated around the top of his fitted pants. The click of his heeled boots against the stone floor quickened as he approached and opened his arms wide.
“Violet!” He beamed at her, his light olive skin glowing with excitement. She laughed and returned his quick embrace. “How long have you been back?”
“A couple of days,” she replied. “How have you been? I missed you.” She picked up the ends of her too-long hair. “My hair missed you too.”
Gunnar picked up a lock of her hair to examine the ends. “Did you not get a trim this entire year?”
“No,” she admitted sheepishly. He blanched. You’d think she’d told him she’d washed it with molasses. “I’ve only ever had my hair cut here, and it made me nervous. Do you have an opening for a trim today? I know it’s late notice.”
Gunnar’s face fell. “I don’t. Unless you don’t mind coming back late tonight?”
Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek in thought. She’d planned on spending the evening with Roman, celebrating his win. “I have plans, but that’s okay. Does anyone else have an opening?”
She’d let others at the shop cut her hair before and they’d done a great job, she just preferred Gunnar. He’d been cutting her hair for years.
“Cassie, do you have an opening for a trim?” Gunnar asked one of the other women in the shop.
A woman with strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, and a sassy smile looked up. Violet liked Cassie too, and she held her breath. Cassie’s face fell. “No, but I can stay late.”
“I have time right now.”
No, Violet almost groaned aloud. Becks, another stylist with dirty blond hair, a square jaw, and deep-set blue eyes sauntered over. She and Violet had gone to school at the palace together, but they were never friendly because Becks and Vivian were friends. How, Violet didn’t know. Becks didn’t enjoy sparring any more than Violet did.
“I don’t mind,” the woman added with a faux smile.
Violet glanced at the bottom of her hair and back to Becks, weighing her options. She desperately needed a trim, the ends of her hair looked like a worn-out straw broom, but she didn’t want to ask one of the others to stay late, nor did she want to cut into her time with Roman.
“That’d be great,” she replied with a smile she hoped looked genuine.
What’s the worst that could happen?
* * *
Roman sat back on the large lounger in his study, leaned his head back, and connected with War.
War, who’d been lying down, stretched, stood, and maneuvered himself to sit in front of Violet. He knew what Roman wanted before he’d even asked.
“Has anyone given her any trouble?”
