Eyes narrowed, she reaches out and takes a loose lock of my hair between two fingers. The glossy mahogany strands catch the light as she twirls them lightly.
“How much do you trust me?”
* * *
Two hours later,I gasp at myself in the vanity mirror. Reaching up, I touch my hair to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
“See? Told you it would be badass,” Chloe says happily, her face appearing next to mine in the reflection. “You like it, right?”
I turn my head to better see the results of her handiwork. Most of my hair was left untouched; it’s the same deep brown shade it was this morning. But now, framing the left side of my face, there’s one long streak of deep purple running from my roots to the ends — a vivid pop of color amidst my glossy curls. Seeing it there inspires an irrepressible smile.
“I love it,” I tell her, meaning it. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
“You do realize half the world is going to lose their shit over this, right?”
I shrug. “Then I guess they’re lucky they didn’t meet me six months ago, when my whole head was lavender.”
“Oh, I remember.”
“If my appearance is more important to them than my actions as their queen, I think we have bigger problems at hand.”
“Damn straight. I’d normally pop some champagne to celebrate your newfound independence, but seeing as I’m not allowed to drink…” She raises an imaginary glass in my direction. “Cheers to not letting them define you, E.”
I lift my empty hand in return and murmur, “To reclaiming the pieces.”
Her nose scrunches. “What? What does that mean? What pieces?”
I shrug lightly, unable to explain without opening a very messy can of worms. But in my head, I hear his voice so clearly — whispering words that have gotten me through more dark nights than I’d ever care to count.
You don’t like people tearing pieces of you away, replacing them with traits of their own design? Then take your pieces back. Remake yourself. And when you do, make sure you use more than staples and glue. Use iron and blood and stone. Use something so strong, they can’t break you apart ever again.
Blinking away sudden tears, I paste on a smile and turn fully toward Chloe. “Thank you. Really, the hair is perfect.”
“My pleasure. Nothing pleases me more than scandalizing stodgy members of the Germanian aristocracy. I’m glad I can continue the practice even in my sobriety.”
“Speaking of snobby aristocrats…”
Her brows lift.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but… have you heard from your mother, lately? I know she went abroad after Linus died. I haven’t heard a peep since, though. It’s suspiciously quiet.”
Chloe winces. “Ugh, E! Ourdon’t-ask-don’t-tellpolicy concerning Octavia was going so well…”
“Trust me, I don’t want to talk about the woman either. She’s not exactly my favorite person on the planet. In fact, she might be myleastfavorite person on the planet. But she’s still your mother.”
“Your point being?”
“My point being… Do you think she might want to know how you’re doing… where you’re living… about your sobriety…”
“Does a cat who tries to suffocate her kittens give a shit when they’re resuscitated?”
I sigh deeply. “Have you discussed this with Dr. Hess?”
“My mommy issues? Yes. At length.”
“And?”
“And Dr. Hess thinks I should try writing her a letter. She says I don’t have to actually send it. But just the act of writing down all the shit I’d like to say to Octavia after so many years of manipulation and emotional blackmail will apparently help me let go of some of my anger toward her.”