Glitter (Glitter Duology #1)(3)
“Be careful,” I say, the finicky words escaping my mouth before I can clamp down on them. “The smell seeps,” I continue in an embarrassed mutter. Though it’s been only two months, I feel as if I’ve aged ten years since my failed escape attempt, and it’s starting to show. Seventeen going on thirty, I suppose.
“Oh, lord have mercy on us if we damage His Royal Highness’ precious frescoes,” Lord Aaron mocks. His eyes aren’t as playful as his tone, and he meets my gaze briefly before blinking away all trace of our shared secrets.
“Lean way out,” Lady Mei says, passing me the hand-rolled cigarette and shifting her skirts aside so I can bend as far through the window as my stiff bodice and wide skirts will allow.
I take a long drag, and it does soothe me—but I wonder if the night air alone would have done just as well. It tastes of freedom, that rarest of delicacies.
“Give it here,” Molli says, nudging me over and carefully grasping the cigarette dangling from my fingertips. “There’s only a pull or two left.”
“Give it here, Your Grace,” Lady Mei corrects. “Mustn’t forget whose presence we’re in.”
I force a smile at her rousing, though in truth I wish I could forget. Not something I’d confide to Lady Mei; as much as I enjoy her company, she’s a hopeless gossip. Lord Aaron and I were lucky to be able to replace her family’s priceless jewels the day after we stole them, or the only people she wouldn’t be talking to about it would be us.
I back away from the window and right into Lord Aaron’s chest.
“Steady,” he whispers in my ear, his hands encircling my upper arms protectively.
“I don’t suppose it’ll catch anything on fire down there, will it?” Molli asks, peering at the grounds below the window.
“If it does, M.A.R.I.E. will handle it,” Lady Mei says, breathing out a long stream of smoke before pulling her head back inside. M.A.R.I.E.—the Mainframe for Autonomous Robotic Intelligence Enhancement—is the central nervous system of the Palace of Versailles. She handles the drudgework, monitors the entire complex, and controls every bot, from the ones that trim the grass to the ones that help me dress. Presumably, she would also put out little fires.
“Hurry,” Mei says. “The system’s going to override His Lordship’s hack any second.”
Sure enough, scant seconds later the window sash slides shut with a defiant click. A blue light at the lock blinks indignantly, as though scolding us, but soon the anachronism fades and our little cabal bursts into laughter.
“I don’t know why you can’t simply smoke outside before you dress,” I say, dabbing laugh-tears from the corners of my eyes as we emerge through the curtains, back into the hallway.
“Because dressing takes an hour, at least,” Lady Mei says. She flips a jet-black curl off her shoulder and puts two hands under her barely-there cleavage, pushing it up ineffectually. “Some of us take a little more work than others,” she adds with a sidelong glance at the more-than-ample shadow between my breasts. She’s not wrong; the gowns of the Baroque era don’t really suit her figure. But the fashions in Sonoman-Versailles must be pulled from actual history books and are, thus, as unyielding as the boned corsets we all sport.
She makes the most of it, though. In her natural state Lady Mei might accurately be described as plain, but she’s a genius with cosmetics and couturiery, and no one seeing her in full evening dress would know her with a washed face and plain nightgown. She gives her skills far too little credit; her deft cosmetics enhance her delicate Chinese features to the hilt. Plus, she’s the daughter of a wealthy marquis—she’ll never want for favor or adoration. Or suitors, when the time comes for such arrangements.
The same cannot be said for Molli Percy, who has neither title nor inheritance coming her way. But she’s delightful and incredibly fetching, with honey-blond hair and a soft, round figure, and everyone falls in love with her despite themselves. That might be enough to make her a good marriage one day. Nothing could make her a better friend now.
“Will I do, Lord Aaron?” Molli asks, turning a circle in front of him when she finishes straightening her skirts.
“Almost.” Lord Aaron adjusts a fold of her shoulder cape, straightens a strand of faux pearls in her coiffure, and takes a step back. “There, you look superb.”
“Thank you,” Molli says, flicking her fan open and fluttering it just under her nose.
“And me?” Lord Aaron asks, spinning a similar circle before them and making the velvet tails fly on his silver-and-crème jacket that sets off his gorgeous carob skin and long black curls.
“As if you need my help,” Molli quips. Lord Aaron is always impeccably turned out. “Shall we?”
“Must we?” Lord Aaron and I say in tandem, and then turn to each other in surprise. Molli and Lady Mei burst into another round of giggles as Lord Aaron and I paint smiles across our faces. We were jesting—of course we were jesting.
“Go ahead,” I urge them. “You know His Highness prefers that I enter alone. Besides,” I say, patting Lord Aaron on the shoulder, “you’ve only two arms. I would be sadly neglected.”
“Alas,” Lord Aaron says with a twinkle in his eyes, “though I’ve petitioned both the Good Lord and the medical research division for more, it’s true that I’m still possessed of but these two arms. And two hands,” he adds, swatting Lady Mei across the backside.