The Belles (The Belles #1)(108)

“Aren’t you going to get supplies?” Amber asks me.

“No, I don’t need them,” I say.

Her mouth drops open with annoyed surprise. “Well, then. You first, since you’re the favorite now and all.” Her eyes narrow.

I move to the other side of Claudine. My body warms like the roaring hearth at our backs. The veins in my body swell. They rise in my hands.

Claudine appears in my head: doughy gray flesh, beautiful round frame, dull brown hair, big eyes.

I touch her hair. The strands darken and fall down her back in ribbons.

I touch her eyelashes. Her irises lighten to dove gray. Brown shades of eye shadow appear on her lids, and mascara elongates her lashes.

I touch her lips, painting them to look like a flower in bloom.

I run my fingers along the edges of her body, smoothing her legs and hips to make her thin and willowy like the imperial dancers on their tiptoes.

Claudine wipes her forehead with a handkerchief. Her breathing accelerates and she grimaces a little.

I stop. “Are you all right?”

“She’s fine,” Sophia interjects. “Continue. It’s beautiful.”

I make her breasts larger.

“I’m finished,” I say.

The table claps.

“Don’t get excited, Camille. My turn. Step aside.” Amber takes a hot iron from its caddy. She wraps a strand of Claudine’s hair around the barrel, and it turns white-blond and twists into tight corkscrew curls. Soon her hair halos her head.

The courtiers at the table ooh and ahh.

Amber wipes a pecan-brown paste over Claudine’s skin in quick strokes. Claudine’s face comes out a little darker than the rest of her. But I don’t point that out. Amber changes Claudine’s eyes back to hazel.

“Lovely,” I say. Amber’s mouth tightens.

Claudine’s knees buckle. Sophia’s attendant sweeps in behind her before she falls.

“We should stop,” I say.

“Not yet,” Sophia replies. “Look how beautiful she’s turning out. She’ll be fine. Right, Claudine? You’re just fine.”

“I . . .” Her voice trails off. Her eyes flutter and fight to stay open.

“More tea,” Amber says.

I gaze up at Amber and wonder if this is really just a ploy to help get us out of here. If she’s just playing along, or taking this seriously. Her eyes are steely and cold. “Let’s stop now, and the table can be the judge of it,” I suggest.

“No,” Amber and Sophia say in unison.

“It’s your turn,” Amber states.

I close my eyes and think through what to do next. I don’t touch Claudine this time. I let my mind randomly fill in the details. The corkscrews Amber placed in her hair shrivel down into a thick fish-tail braid dangling below her waist. Her hair color darkens to a pale gold the color of spintria coins. I reshape her body again, stretching her limbs like sugar-sticks, cinching her waist, and making her a whole four inches taller.

Her skin lightens to the color of whipped butter and cream. I use her dress to create a new one, stretching it over her frame and letting it bell out at her waist like a parasol.

Amber scoffs.

I open my eyes and admire Claudine. She could sit atop a royal wedding pastry.

Claudine gasps for breath and bites down on her bottom lip. Her head bobs toward her shoulders. “I didn’t know it would hurt so bad,” she mumbles.

“We need to stop,” I say.

“Not before I get a second chance. You’re trying to cheat me,” Amber says.

“Can’t you see she’s hurting?” I yell.

“Just give her some tea. She’ll be fine.” Sophia snatches the teacup from the tray and forces Claudine to drink it all. The scalding liquid dribbles down her chin, leaving two pink burns behind. Claudine cries out.

The room sits in stunned silence.

Auguste stands. “I’ve had enough.” He strides toward the door. Sophia motions to her guards. They step into his path. He tries to move around them.

“Have a seat, Auguste, or the guards will force you to sit, like a baby.”

“Sophia, this is ridiculous,” he protests, and my heart swells. At least he is on my side.

“The show has just begun. Enjoy it.” She winks at him.

His mother leaves her seat and leads him back to the table. Each breath I take catches in my throat as I watch.

Amber steps forward. “My turn!”

Guards hold Claudine up. Amber draws black kohl lines over Claudine’s chest and arms and face, making a beauty road map. She changes the contours of Claudine’s body, shrinking her down and erasing the height I’d given her but making her round as a ripe apple. She uses a kohl pencil to mark Claudine’s face. Amber chisels out higher cheekbones and a more pronounced forehead.

Claudine puts her hands to her cheeks. She flushes crimson. The blood inside her is aggravated, trying to get out.

I reach for Amber to stop her.

Amber moves away and paints a sapphire-blue smudge on Claudine’s gown. It changes to match the color of Auguste’s mother’s gown. Claudine’s limbs whiten like rice grains, and her hair explodes out from the braid I put in, hitting the floor in one cascading wave. Amber uses a hot iron to start straightening it, then changes her mind and grabs a steam-roller for curls.