VIOLET’S POV
The moment the Queen dismissed everyone, I didn’t wait. I stormed out, refusing to waste a single breath on Celine, Emily, or Mirella’s inevitable chatter.
Zoella, wise enough to read the urgency in my stride, fell into step beside me without a word.
Zoey had barely crossed the threshold of my room when I seized her hand and pulled her inside, the door slamming shut behind us.
Her boots scraped sharply across the polished marble, her short, blue-dyed hair brushing her jaw. Dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt, she looked every bit the beautiful boy she so effortlessly pulled off.
Sophie darted after us, breathless and bright, nearly colliding with Zoey as she squealed:
“Zoella! I missed you!”
Zoey groaned so loudly it felt like the windows should’ve rattled.
