The Belles (The Belles #1)(36)

“These aren’t questions you should be concerning yourself with.” Ivy takes the wet cloth from me. How I wish I could see her eyes.

“But—”

“I will show you how to be the favorite. I’m staying in the room just down the main corridor. I will be with you during your initial beauty treatments to ensure all goes well. I will help you navigate the rules of working with the queen and the princess.”

Ivy is all business, and I reluctantly accept that I’m not going to get any information about Amber. I’ll have to find out about her some other way.

“Why do you and the other big sisters wear veils now? You never did when we were at home.”

“Because it’s protocol, and to signal to the world that our generation is over.” She pulls one of the strings on the wall above the nightstand table, and a sleepy-eyed Bree appears.

“Bree!” I hug her.

“Congratulations,” she whispers.

“Are you happy to be back?” I ask.

“Yes”—she leans in—“and away from Madam Claire.”

We laugh.

“Breakfast,” Ivy barks at her.

Bree slides out of my arms and scurries from the room.

“Time to check the morning ledger.” Ivy walks to the main salon. “Follow.” She points to a board. Elisabeth Du Barry’s cursive handwriting spells out the date: DAY 262 OF THE YEAR OF THE GOD OF LUCK. There are no appointments listed.

Moments later wheeled carts arrive, chock-full of pastries, eggs cooked in every way, grilled meat, petit-pancakes with sugar dust, and bowls of colorful fruit. Ivy doesn’t touch the food, but I pick at it.

“We need to review a few rules for court life.” Her words sound scripted and practiced. She clears her throat. “You are not to pursue anything other than your purpose. You are a Belle.”

“Can we talk about what happened first?” I ignore her earlier warning and switch seats to join her on the couch. “Why was Amber dismissed? I need to know.”

“You are to act as if you’re an artist floating through this world. Your sole purpose is to beautify, and transform the Gris. You are a Belle.”

I put my hand up, hoping she’ll pause. “Ivy, can we—”

“You are to sell your skills—the arcana—not your body. You are a Belle.”

My anger rises as she ignores my questions.

“You exist inside a secret world of beauty. You were born full of color, like a moving work of art. The Goddess of Beauty has given you responsibility. You are not to reveal the inner workings of your arcana. You are a Belle.”

I touch her. Her whole body flinches and she stands.

“You are to respect your sisters—both past and present. You must respect those who are guardians of your kind. You are a Belle.

“You were cared for, and in return you must care for Orléans, the Land of Rising Beauty, and share your gifts. You are a Belle.

“You must vow to return home and continue the Belle line. These—”

“Just tell me what happened to my sister,” I shout. “I don’t care about these rules.”

“These rules are to be adhered to and followed at all times. They have served your sisters and will serve you well,” she says at last.

Well, they didn’t help Amber, the greatest rule-follower of us all.

A wall panel shifts forward and Elisabeth Du Barry walks out. “Why are you yelling this early?”

“What happened to Amber, Elisabeth? Where is she?” I stand to face her.

Elisabeth flashes me the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. She presses a hand to her chest as if she’s holding in the answer to my question.

“Please.”

She sighs like I’m bothering her and it’s an imposition for her to tell me, but I know she covets the attention. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“This isn’t a game,” I snap.

“But it is, and you’ve won.”

The word won hits me, and my stomach churns with the implication of it.

“I need to know if she’s all right.”

“What would you do for me? Give me an extra beauty treatment?”

I blink. Does she really want me to bribe her?

“I need you to fix me, Camellia. Mother is making me earn my own spintria now, just like everybody else, booking these appointments all day long.” She turns to the large mirror over the hearth and examines herself.

“Yes.” I take her hand, and the shock of it softens her. “Whatever you want.”

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I can tell she relishes the information she holds over me.

“Amber made one of Sophia’s ladies translucent,” she says. “You could see every vein and organ and blood vessel inside her. It was disgusting. And she gave Sophia a too-small waist that violated the beauty law. Then she covered another lady-of-honor in feathers. Like a parrot. They grew straight out of the woman’s skin.”

I gasp. “She wouldn’t do that,” I protest.

“I’m just telling you what I heard.” Elisabeth smoothes her eyebrows, like we’re merely discussing the weather.

“You must’ve heard wrong.” I pace in a circle.

“I thought that, too. Amber was always the boring one. My mother’s pet. It all sounded outlandish. But it was like she changed. Became a different person. More like you, and less like her.” She inspects the breakfast cart.