The Belles (The Belles #1)(35)

My heart thuds. I scan the room for Amber again, and search the crowd for a bright red Belle-bun. My hands knit in front of me. Trails of sweat inch down my back.

“Long live the queen,” the crowd shouts out.

Kings and queens don’t get to participate in the royal fad of changing their looks. Once married, it is customary to settle into one consistent appearance. According to Du Barry, it should be elegant yet regal, memorable but not eccentric, and most of all, fit for royalty.

“My daughter’s been responsible for setting a few unnatural beauty trends among the younger courtiers. That terrible blip with the sea-blue skin tone, and the trend where courtiers matched their teacup pets.” The queen shudders. “So unfortunate.”

The princess scoffs, then glares at her mother, turning redder by the minute.

The women in the crowd nod their heads and whisper in agreement with the queen.

“And she’s broken her fair share of beauty laws. However, with help, I have no doubt that she’ll take this opportunity to refine herself and come into her life as a future queen, leaving behind the temperamental little girl.”

Her words confuse me. My eyes volley between her and the princess, who squirms and fusses with the ruffles of her dress.

“Nothing about this year has been easy, Camellia. I thought my eldest, Princess Charlotte, would have woken by now. I thought my cabinet would have passed legislation to help make beauty treatments more affordable for the Gris.” She sighs, and the king kisses her hand again. “I hope you’ll be patient with me.”

She rises. The entire court mimics her. My heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings. The room becomes a swirl of colors with the queen at the very center.

“I am going to do something unprecedented in the history of our kingdom, and I hope you’ll prove that it’s the right decision.” I hold my breath. I don’t take my eyes off the queen. I’m frozen. “My challenge for you, Camellia, is for you to become the favorite, and teach my daughter. Will you?”

The word favorite ruptures through me.

My heart might stop.

“Yes,” I almost shout.

Amber’s face pops into my mind. My excitement tangles with a thread of sadness.

“Behold, Camellia Beauregard, our new favorite!” the queen announces. “May you always find beauty!”

Small chrysanthemum flower-lanterns are released in the air. Thundering cheers and high-pitched whistles roar through the room.





17


The Receiving Hall turns into a chaos of light. Newsies flood the room, flashing their light-boxes in my face. Black gossip post-balloons storm overhead, with their candles shining down on me. The windows open, and a kaleidoscope of congratulatory post-balloons pours in from every corner of the kingdom.

I search for Amber. A glimpse of red hair sends me snaking through the crowd. Where is she? Is she okay? What happened to her? Women squeeze my hands as I pass, and wave their beauty tokens in the air. Men tip their hats and wink. They say how excited they are to work with me. They ask my thoughts on the latest beauty laws. They swarm me with questions about my favorite arcana. I give quick answers and continue to search.

But I can’t find Amber.

The Beauty Minister grabs my hand and kisses my cheeks.

“Where’s my sister? Where’s Amber?” I whisper to her.

“Shh,” she says, like I’ve uttered a dirty word. “No talk of that. Enjoy yourself.”

The night rages on in one continuous loop of laughter and dancing and questions and excitement until I’m brought to the Belle apartments right after the midnight star rises. The rich bed drapery now matches my signature pink camellia flowers. I think about the ambrosia-orange curtains that once hung here. A pinch burns in my chest, and I imagine Amber’s Belle-trunk being packed.

I climb into the big four-poster bed and stare at the ceiling for an eternity until I fall asleep.

“Time to get up,” a voice calls out. The bedcurtains rustle.

“But I’m not awake.” I open one eye. “Who is it?”

“Ivy,” she says. The favorite of the previous generation.

“You’re talking, so you must be,” she says, tugging at my sheets. “Always be up before they come in. So you can watch them and be aware of the things going on around you.”

Ivy’s veil reveals nothing. Not even an outline of her nose or mouth. The fabric completely hides her from view. I wonder how she can see through the shrouded layers. She wears a long-sleeved black day dress and lace gloves. Not one sliver of her skin shows. I touch her to make sure she’s real and not some dark spirit. She removes my hand from her arm.

“Where’s Amber?”

“Go on, freshen up. Questions later.” A pitcher of steaming water sits beside the porcelain basin on my new vanity. She watches while I wipe the sleep from my eyes and wet my skin. “I need you awake. You’ll bathe later.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after the morning star.”

I want to dive back into bed and tell her it’s too early to be awake, but she knows what palace life is like, and I need to learn from her. While I clean my teeth and mouth, the silence extends to every corner of the room.

“Ivy, please. Tell me where Amber is? Is she at the Chrysanthemum Teahouse now? What happened?”