Page 174 of Drama Queen

“Today, you showed us in spirit, why you are the right choice to represent our people in government, and I’m proud to be standing right here with you. Thank you, one and all, for the hard work you’ve put in today. It’s by no means the end, but it’s a solid foundation that is going to make the coming days easier on us all.”

By the time she had finished speaking, Charlotte could feel a shift in the room. The details had been sorted, the language had been argued to the nth degree, and every single one of them was on the same page. It had been an awe inspiring experience, and one she would never forget. This was how the government was supposed to work. Not the big wigs doing the grunt work, but all of them pulling together for the best outcome for their people.

Taking one last look at the organised chaos, the smiling faces, and the shoulders that had been slumped with fatigue, lifting with pride — she committed everything to memory. The coming weeks were going to be a hard slog, and it would be moments like this that carried her through them.

“Ma’am,” Fitz urged from behind her.

Right. It was time to put on her armour. Or at least the modern version of it.

Ten minutes later when she’d emerged from the shower wrapped in the terry-cloth robe that had been lying on her bed, Charlotte was surprised to find two women waiting for her.

“Hair and makeup,” the first one said, noting her surprise.

“Oh!” Charlotte replied, feeling a little stupid. “I was going to do my own, like normal.”

The woman shook her head. “Not for this level of exposure. President’s orders. We do this for Grace too, so you’re not being singled out.”

Actually, that was kind of what she was thinking, but not in the way the woman meant it. Charlotte thought she was being pampered, in a kind of apology that wasn’t an apology. Like, if she had to face the train wreck that was about to happen, then the least they could do was make sure she looked good in front of the camera.

There was no way it was a criticism of her appearance. Charlotte was well put together, she knew that. As Grace’s aide she’d hired her own professionals to teach her how to do her own hair just right, and to perfect her own makeup routine. While she wasn’t into sculpting, and over the top eye-lashes — hardly appropriate for the political arena, she thought — she could hold her own when it came to a flawless look.

Yet when the women finally stepped away, and Charlotte managed to look in the mirror for the first time, she was shocked at the difference a professional hand made. Her eyeliner was spot on for once, subtle yet making its own statement. Her hair curled softly around her face in loose waves that somehow made her look feminine without looking weak. She looked professional and able to kick some serious arse, which ironically made her feel much more confident about what was going to happen in just under an hour.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” the first lady asked. They had given her their names, but with everything else rattling through her head, Charlotte had forgotten them.

“No, I’ve got it from here,” Charlotte said, not unkindly. “Thank you both so much for this. You’ve taken my normal look and elevated it to a new level. I can see I’m going to have to watch some more tutorials on you-tube.”

The other woman laughed. “Or you could just book us, we’re employees of The Seat. We’re available to anyone who works here and has to make a public appearance.” She leaned in as if to tell a secret. “We even look after the president. I think he should grow a beard, but he’s not keen on it.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “No,” she said forcefully. “No beard. It would just add to the caricatures of him already with a full shaggy mane. No facial hair at all, not even a moustache. He needs to avoid being classed as an animal at all costs. We’re shifters, and we’re more civilised than that. When he retires from office, sure, go for broke, but not while he leads us.”

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that. Okay, no beard. I’ll tell him what you said too, just so he’s clear it’s an optics thing, not what would look good on him, because I gotta say, that man with a beard? He would decimate the female population of shifters.”

“Pretty sure he does that for most of them already,” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

The women left and she hurried to put on her suit, a dark navy blue with a pencil skirt, and crisp white blouse. It wasn’t her preferred choice of clothing, but again, she needed to look as human as possible. Optics were everything, and she hated that this was where her attention was focused, while out there two families were imploding in grief.

There was a short rap on her bedroom door, and she hurried to do up the zip of her skirt before calling out to whoever it was to come in.

“You’re not ready?” Fitz exclaimed.

“Shoes and jacket and I’m good to go,” she reassured him.

Before Charlotte could stop him, Fitz kneeled at her feet with her shoes, almost knocking her over as he tried to fit the wrong shoe to her left foot.

“Other shoe, Fitz,” she told him, not wanting to embarrass him by making a fuss.

He cursed softly, switching shoes, and then tried again. She helped as much as she could, but it was clear he was having trouble aligning her foot with the shoe. Still, it saved her hopping around in this damn tight skirt.

“You hold the shoe still, I’ll move my foot.”

“Yeah, that’s a better idea.”

Quickly she was shod, and then he was standing there holding her jacket. She hadn’t even seen him move. This time he stood still as Charlotte manoeuvred herself into the garment, lifting her loose hair up and over the collar.

“How do I look?” she asked, glancing in the mirror to check her lines were all straight.

“Like you should have left five minutes ago,” Fitz grumbled, making her snort. “You’ll do just nicely, now follow the guard out there and he’ll get you to the car.”

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