The Belles (The Belles #1)(44)

“Bree, will you dust her, please?” I ask, trying to buy myself more time to make a decision.

“Yes, my lady.” She takes a bei-powder bundle from a drawer and sprinkles it over Sophia’s hair and scalp.

The latest hair trends are adding colored highlights, or mixing hair colors like black and red. I can’t do any of those. They’ve been plastered all over the pamphlets. I look up into the skylight windows. The sun bleeds across the sky, leaving a garish trail of reds and oranges and yellows. An idea zips through me.

I use a brush to paint the roots of Sophia’s hair with the golden color. It drips like honey down the length of her strands. I dip the ends of her hair into the silvery pot of color and spread the color upward toward the middle.

Sophia grins at me. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

The arcana wake up inside me. I tug at the strands of hair, and they fall down to her waist. I twirl one around my finger to put a loose wave in her hair. The golden color fades into silver halfway to the bottom.

Her face is red and sweaty, and she pants.

“Your Highness, are you all right?” I ask. “Would you like tea after all?”

“No, no.” She waves a hand in the air. “Continue. I’m fine.”

I remove pots of ground graphite from my beauty caisse and embed the flakes in the shafts of hair, so now the strands almost shimmer.

Her breathing quickens.

“I’m finished, Your Highness.”

Sophia opens her eyes and gazes into the mirror. A smile overtakes her face. Gabrielle’s mouth hangs open. Henrietta-Maria drops her book. Claudine freezes, pastry hovering right at her lips.

“I’ve never seen . . .” Sophia starts to say, but stops to stand and admire herself. She twirls and lets her hair bloom all around her, then leans over to kiss my cheek. I jump back in surprise. Claudine, Gabrielle, and Henrietta-Maria rush forward.

I fill with satisfaction. “Let me also adjust your makeup to match.”

“You can change someone’s makeup?” Gabrielle asks.

“Well, I’m not supposed to, but I don’t think any of you will tell Madam Du Barry.” I wink, trying to get them to laugh. They simply stare at me with eager eyes and pursed lips.

I pull the head off a nearby rose. I stick it inside the soft belly of a cake of blush-crème on her vanity. The color drains from the rose as I add deeper red and white pigments to the makeup. I watch and wait for their reactions.

The girls applaud my tiny beauty enhancement.

“Splendid!”

“How clever!”

“That was beautiful.”

I add the new powder to Princess Sophia’s cheeks with a brush. When I am done, her eyes shimmer with delight. “May you always find beauty, Your Highness,” I say.

The royal attendant returns to escort us to the gardens. Sophia slips her hand in mine. “We’re going to be the closest of friends,” she whispers. “I just know it.”





20


Marble stairs lead down into the palace garden for Sophia’s birthday game. Lady courtiers hand out beautiful masks. Party guests trample ahead, fixing the masks to their faces, each determined to be the first to win the treasure hunt. Sophia and her ladies stop to pose for portraits and talk to newsies. Young men and women mingle, eager to enter the labyrinth of hedges and begin the game.

I like watching how the people smile, touch, and laugh with one another. Garden-lanterns linger above the giant geometric hedges, and blimps carry small candles, gliding along the intricate maze. I put on my mask; the sunbird feathers protrude over my hair like ram horns. I gather up my dress and skip along. I need to find my sisters. I need to find Amber.

“Stay close,” Rémy says.

“No.” I duck into the nearest lane.

He grabs for my arm, but I slip out of reach. I like how his face twists with annoyance and his eyes flash with irritation. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from him.

“This is not a time to play,” he grumbles. “Your safety—”

“But it is the perfect time. It’s a game!”

I head for the thickest pocket of people as Rémy struggles to politely navigate through the crowd. He’s big and broad and unable to slip through the small gaps in the crowd like I can. I make aimless turns until I can’t see him anymore. Dark garden passages fill with revelers and laughter. I join them. I ignore the dangers of being separated from my guard. I ignore the fact that Maman and Du Barry would be upset with me for breaking protocol.

I imagine my sisters by my side: Edel, tasting the various treats offered in each pavilion and congratulating me on continuing to break the rules; Padma, collecting every interesting flower she comes across; Hana, talking to all the boys and interviewing the girls about falling in love; Valerie, dancing and singing until our ears can’t handle it any longer; and Amber and I, finding corners to whisper in. I’d ask her what happened. I’d apologize for our fight.

Once I feel that I’ve thoroughly lost Rémy, I break from the crowd, heading in the opposite direction. Cool air finds its way into the fur bolero draped over my shoulders, and I squeeze it tightly closed. The promise of snowy months feels closer. I run my hands over orange and yellow leaves. They remind me of the color of Amber’s hair, and little-girl memories of weaving flower petals into each other’s braids. Twin feelings of anger and sadness flush through me.