The Belles (The Belles #1)(13)

“The design you shaved in that little girl’s hair was rude,” Padma says, then giggles.

“So rude it made you laugh.” Edel’s grin is so wide you can almost see all of her teeth.

“I didn’t see it,” Hana says. “What did you do?”

“I put the letters D-U-N-G there. That’s why she wants to talk to me,” Edel says.

We all burst with laughter, imagining the late-night newspapers circulating all over the kingdom with pictures of Edel’s little girl, the word shaved into her hair beside a picture of cow feces. When we were little and we wanted to sneak out of our rooms late at night, we’d leave each other notes with that word etched into them, and Du Barry’s exact location.

Amber enters the room. “I don’t think either of you should’ve done what you did. I even heard the servants whispering about it. So disrespectful.”

Edel sighs. “Of course you don’t. You always do exactly what you’re told. And, just so you’re aware, I had a guard slip my girl one of Du Barry’s beauty tokens, so she can come see me—wherever I end up—and I’ll fix it. It was just a bit of fun.”

Amber turns to me. “And you? What’s your excuse?”

“I just got inspired,” I say. “That’s what I’m telling Du Barry.”

Amber purses her lips together the same way Du Barry does, and flashes me an I-told-you-to-follow-the-rules look.

“Who cares, Amber. Both of us gave the crowd a show, and gave the newsies something to fill their papers with. That was the point,” Edel snaps.

Amber balls her fists like she’s readying herself for a challenge. The sting of our earlier conversation returns. Her eyes flicker with tears.

“Or maybe Camille or I will be named the favorite.” Edel’s gaze burns as she stares at Amber.

“It hasn’t been decided,” Amber says. “We shouldn’t—”

A servant enters with a carafe of warm oil and we fall quiet. As silently as a floating feather, the servant combs the oil through Padma’s hair, making it shimmer in the subtle light like onyx. The servant then moves on to me, twisting the frizz out of each curl with the sweet liquid and pinning it up. Another servant drapes a blanket over a snoring Valerie; then they leave again.

“Du Barry said we shouldn’t speculate,” Amber says.

Hana and Edel flash me a look of annoyance. It’s the same one Valerie gave me earlier while the hairdressers created our Belle-buns, and Amber bragged about being the best at creating the perfect curl. The girls have always called her Du Barry’s “bird” behind her back.

“Scared to lose, Amber?” Edel’s words stir up Amber’s growing fury.

“It’s not a game,” I say, and now I’m the one sounding like Du Barry. “Calm down, everyone.” I try to smile at Amber, and get her to let it go. Her hands are shaking, and she’s flushed from head to toe like she’s been scalded.

“Why do you even care, Edel? You hate being a Belle,” Amber says. Tension spreads out like a thick blanket ready to suffocate us all. As we’ve grown older, spats like this have begun to ignite over the silliest of things: the chair one sits in on the breakfast veranda, whose lesson marks are the highest, who knows the most about Belle history, who Du Barry praises. The heat of the arguments lasts for weeks, like too much sun in the warm season.

Hana waves her hands in the air. “Stop! We’re too old for this.”

“And it’s our birthday,” Padma reminds us.

“Oh, I don’t care.” Edel rises from her chair. “I just don’t think it should be you, Amber, just because you always do everything you’re told.”

Amber’s glare stings. “Being a Belle is an honor—”

“There was a boy near our carriages,” I blurt out.

Edel, Hana, Padma, and Amber turn to stare at me. I’m sure my cheeks are glowing pink.

“He was standing next to the gate.”

“A boy?” Padma claps her hands.

“What happened? What could he possibly have wanted?” Amber zips through a flurry of questions. “And how did he get past the guards?”

“What did he say?” Hana says.

“He asked if I could make someone out of clay, like the newspaper headline—”

“Those newsies have no idea—” Amber starts to say.

“Yes, Amber, we know. Let her finish.” Edel scowls.

“It was just the two of us,” I say. “I don’t know where the guard went.”

“Were you afraid?” Padma asks. “I would’ve been shaking.”

“No.” I remember how the boy made me laugh. The memory rushes through me.

“Well, you should’ve been. It’s forbidden,” Amber says.

Hana scrunches her nose like she’s tasted a lemon.

“Be quiet, Amber. What did he look like?” Edel leans over the edge of her chaise toward me. “And someone wake up Valerie. She needs to hear this.”

Padma walks to Valerie’s chair and jostles her shoulder. She rolls over and releases another snore. “She’s going to whine about missing everything.”

Amber crosses her arms against her chest. Her flush matches the deep ginger of her hair. “Why does it matter what he looked like? She shouldn’t have spoken with him. She should’ve called for the guard or joined us. It’s unsafe.”