The Belles (The Belles #1)(117)

“Keep blinking. They will settle into place. There’s more of them in the toilette box, along with skin-color pastes,” she says. “Your faces will be plastered all over the kingdom in a matter of hours. The few who don’t already know you by sight, will.”

Three knocks rattle the wall.

“Time to go.” She shoves the toilette box in my hands and drapes a hooded cloak over my shoulders. “I will help you in any way I can.” She kisses my cheek, then turns to the wall and gives it one giant push. The wall cracks open like a hinged door, leading into the palace kitchen.

“To the courtier dock,” she orders Rémy.

He nods and leads the way forward. Amber’s still a rag doll in his arms. We go through the servant entrance. The dark wood of the underground palace dock gleams under low-lit sea-lanterns. The whole thing seems carved out of the bottom of the palace, opening up onto the ocean like a great mouth. Glittering boats are loaded with well-dressed passengers.

“Dock closing,” a man hollers. “Load your boats and go, if you’re going. By order of the queen.”

“She’s got to stand.” Rémy tries to hold Amber upright.

I shake her shoulders. She moans. “Amber, you’ve got to wake up.” Her eyes flutter. “I need you to walk.”

She tries, but her legs buckle under her. Rémy drapes one of her arms around his shoulder and the other around mine. We join a line of passengers boarding several boats. We drag her forward.

“Gold Isles—this boat,” one shouts. “Docking at Céline.”

“Glass Isles and one stop in Silk Bay,” another says.

“Spice Isles,” a man hollers through a voice-trumpet.

Men and women drop fat coins into his hands and shuffle aboard.

I pull the hood over my head. “This way, Rémy. Spice Isles.”

Rémy places a hand on my waist. “Three seats for my wife and me, and her very drunk sister,” he tells the man.

The man laughs at the sight of Amber but doesn’t look twice at us as Rémy gives him money. Our tickets secure us seats in the steerage class on the boat. Porthole windows expose night views of the water.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask. “Where are we going to—”

Rémy brings one finger to his lips. “Say nothing for a while.”

The boat slides out from the dock and into La Mer du Roi.





52


My sisters and I threatened to run away from Du Barry once. Edel made us all pack a tiny satchel full of stolen bread and cheese from the kitchen. Three of us hooked night-lanterns to our Belle-buns. We climbed out our bedroom windows and into the dark. Our nightdresses picked up mud and sticks and leaves. Edel led the way. Amber cried the entire journey. Valerie whimpered and jumped at every sound. Hana held her breath. Padma and I held hands. We marched to the little dock at the south wing of the island, and prepared to get in a bayou boat. White cypress trees grew out of the shadowy water like bones, and fireflies skipped along the surface, their little bodies red sparks brightening the night. We argued about the bayou octopus rumored to be living in those waters, waiting to eat us if we ever tried to swim away.

None of us had the courage to get in the boat before Du Barry caught us. The same feeling creeps into me now as the vessel oscillates under me.

The sea seems endless, the space between us endless, the questions that I have endless. Du Barry forced us to study the map of Orléans, and I remember the big wall-length tapestry in the main salon of the Belle apartments, but being out on the water—moving away from the imperial island and into the unknown—gives me the dizzying feeling that we are headed to the edge of the world.

“Are you hungry?” Rémy asks. It’s the first thing he’s said since the ship left the underground palace dock.

“Yes. Should I go?”

“No, it isn’t safe. You could be recognized still.”

I nuzzle the cloak Arabella gave me, pulling it more tightly under my neck, and I cradle my waist-pouch full of dragon eggs. Amber’s head is in my lap, and she sleeps peacefully. I wish I could sleep, too, but worries and questions hum through me, keeping me awake.

Rémy leaves in search of food, and I watch his back disappear up the ship’s stairs to the surface. The people on this deck hold bundles, and some have jackets embroidered with merchant house emblems like mine.

“Barley water?” a ship-vendor calls out. “Eases the stomach on the sea. Barley water, anyone?”

I hold my breath as he comes closer.

“Barley water, miss?” He taps my shoulder. I jump, and shake my head no.

I’m flinching at every sound. Is this how your new life will always be? says a voice inside me. I wonder if Charlotte is awake, and if the queen is stronger.

I shudder and gaze around. Has Sophia sent someone after us? Are all the soldiers in Orléans searching? What bounty did she place on our heads? What is she doing to my sisters? What will Du Barry say when she learns of what happened? What happened to Bree?

After a few more moments, I become certain that Rémy has been identified and taken into the ship’s custody. I watch the staircase he ascended, and when I spot his familiar shape, I exhale with relief.

He slips back into the seat beside me like he’s only been gone for a few seconds. He hands me a sausage roll. “All they had. Pick around the meat. Smelled a little rancid.”