Page 1 of Protect Your Queen

Prologue

Jestiny

Five years ago, Stockholm, Sweden

The bright lights around the vanity mirror washed out my face, removing all wrinkles and lines. At the age of seventeen, I already knew that puffy eyes, a bit of water weight, or ungroomed brows were like blood in the water. These simple, human realities weren’t allowed in beauty queens or anyone who dared to place themselves in the spotlight.

The bulbs that outlined my vanity mirror simulated the stage lights I’d walk under. So, I had to make sure I looked… perfect.

My hair was meticulously arranged, the dress custom tailored to hug every curve, and glittered to emphasize my slim frame. Heroin chic was back in fashion. Hooray.

I needed the audience in the stands to love me. I needed the judges to choose me. Most of all, I needed the people who viewed through their streaming devices to adore everything they saw – enough to get on a poll and vote their asses off for me. So, I was powdered, shined, buffed, glittered and contoured to be the most airbrushed version of myself.

My entire life was riding on this single event; years of pageants from the village, up to the national, then international level.KuyaJareth had scrounged sponsors, and gotten the money needed to pay trainers, stylists, tailors, and costume designers to get me here.

I had starved and worked out every day for months. When I felt like I was going to pass out from hunger, I had a yogurt. I went to the sauna to sweat out the water that prevented my clavicle from protruding through my skin.

We created the perfect, plastic thing I saw in the mirror. A self that I didn’t recognize.

I touched my curled hair, staring at the highlighted strands.

“You look perfect,Bunso.” My eldest brother, Jareth, said, using an affectionate Tagalog term for the youngest in the family. “Jen has been worth everypeso.”

TitaJen was Jareth’s most recent investment - she was the best pageant coach in the Philippines. Her client list included many Miss Idol World runners-up. She had been hungry for the one that could get her all the way. Her fees cost as much as a Manila condo, but from where we stood, backstage of the big event, and me, a favorite for the big title… she was worth it.

I looked at my brother. Jareth wore a black and gold Giorgio Armani single-breasted suit. Unlike me, he was the same person as his reflection. He stood tall, pristine. He was the head of our family and a God amongst men. Black hair, black eyes, and golden skin.

We didn’t look like siblings. He was a statue made of bronze, perfect and unbreakable.

I looked at my light brown eyes with the strange, dark flecks. In some lights, my eyes looked red like the color of dying leaves. Where he was cold metal, I was fire, and constantly in threat of burning out.

Next to him, I felt like a cheap, porcelain doll. Pretty on the outside, hollow on the inside.

My reflection was better than the reality.

I wanted to smash my fist into the glass. To crack it as much as I was cracked.

“Why can’t I just look like myself?” I curled my finger through my hair and looked at the bleach-damaged ends. “I get that the whole ‘beach wave’ thing is in fashion, but it makes me fade into a sea of bimbos on stage.”

Jareth’s hands balled into fists, as he tried to steady himself. I was giving him a problem he couldn’t fix. I was complaining about something when I was at the starting gate. It was too late to do anything about it. He hated that. He hated problems he could not solve. They were an insult to him!

“You think we spent all this money on a coach just so you can go your own way?” Jareth snorted and then added that passive aggressive parental phrase, “Bahala ka sa buhay mo.”Do whatever you want. It’s your life.

Except it was never my life. Jareth, Jomari, Jazz, Jorik and I had no control over our destiny.

We were a Royal Flush, unbeatable together, but useless apart. We lived our lives in tandem, always going in the same direction, but never intersecting.

I had once asked Jareth if he was the King. He shook his head with a laugh. I still don’t know what card he’d be. Or maybe he hadn’t thought through themetaphor. Maybe his words about how I am the Queen of the deck were just that… words, meant to make an unimportant sister feel like a member of our pieced-together family.

“Sa buhay mo,” I mocked, staring at the two empty water glasses on my vanity.

Had Jareth even noticed? No, of course not. His nose was back in his phone, texting business. He was in the room with me, but his mind was always far away. Why was he even here at all?

“I’ve got it,Kuya.” I bitterly rolled my eyes. A bit of defiance from me, and a sigh of resignation from him… the homeostasis of our family continued. “Unless you want to see your sister naked, you should go.”

My brother visibly cringed, and I tried not to laugh. He took two strides to the door and reached for the handle before he paused.

“You better take this seriously,” he warned me with a wagging finger. “We have too much riding on…”

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