The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(85)
Forelle takes me to the bathroom for a long soak in the tub. The air is thick with humidity, and the sound of bullfrogs and cicadas echo in the room. Beside me, the wall screen plays footage of a mangrove forest set within a swamp, and it feels like I’m visiting another world.
Later, we stand side-by-side in front of the mirror with the cosmetics Master Thymel’s sisters left for me, and we switch the screen wall to a tutorial on how to put on makeup. I’m not the best artist, but Forelle removes my shoddy job and applies my cosmetics with a steady hand. Without letting me look at myself in the mirror, she fits me into my new dress, fastens its bodice, steps back, and draws in a deep breath. “Wow.”
I peer down at the chiffon, off-shoulder sleeves that match the skirt. It skims my shoulders and forms a delicate edge around the neckline that conceals most of my cleavage. When I look up, Forelle stares as though seeing me for the first time.
My stomach flutters with trepidation. “Do I look alright?”
Forelle shakes her head. “I thought you were pretty before, but that was in a Harvester way. Now, you’re as regal as those Nobles.” She grins. “Better, because I can’t see any of them climbing a tree to save a girl they hardly know.”
My cheeks heat, and I dip my head.
She turns me around to a full-length wall mirror. “Take a look.”
I don’t recognize the girl staring back. Her hair is too glossy, her skin too vibrant, and the eyes… I step close to the mirror and tilt my head. Whatever the healer used to wash my eyes has removed all traces of pink, leaving the whites brighter than before. It brings out the ring of sapphire around the iris and contrasts with the flecks of gold hidden among the aquamarine.
“What do you think of the dress?” asks Forelle.
I step back, noting that the fabric of the sleeves and skirt match the sapphire in my eyes and that the bodice is an iridescent aquamarine silk. It cinches my waist and the chiffon skirt flares out to the ground. It’s voluminous but without a long train that might make me trip.
They even provided a delicate gold chain with a blue tomato pendant the exact aquamarine as the bodice.
Pride swells in my chest, my breath catches, but I manage to whisper, “It’s unbelievable.”
Forelle steps in front of me and places both hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me.” Her gray eyes harden with determination. “You are just as worthy as the Noble girls of winning Prince Kevon.”
I drop my gaze.
“Stop doing that,” she snaps.
“What?”
“You pull a face every time I mention you and Prince Kevon.”
My throat convulses, and my gaze drops down to the chiffon. How can I tell her that there are plans in place to remove the Nobles from power? I swallow hard. Forelle is falling for Garrett, and I would regret it if he gets hurt in the revolution.
I lick my lips. “Forelle, you should know—”
A loud knock on the door makes us both jump. “Are you girls decent?”
Forelle skips to the door and flings it open to reveal Garrett. He wears a royal-blue tuxedo jacket with silk lapels and red cuffs etched in gold. Even though he’s a Noble, the two eyes on the cuffs mark him as a lieutenant. I wonder if he attained that rank at such an early age because he’s the nephew of the king.
My shoulders sag, and I blow out a frustrated breath. There’ll be other times to warn her to keep him safe.
Garrett whistles at my outfit, kisses Forelle goodbye, and escorts me out of the guest house’s front door. Tall lamps illuminate a driveway that stretches down the length of the lawned garden, but it’s too dark to see anything else. A vehicle three times as long as Prince Kevon’s car waits outside, and a man in a burgundy suit with a matching cap opens the door to the back.
Garrett helps me into its cool, leather interior that feels more like a small waiting room than a vehicle. He explains that it’s protocol for guests to arrive at balls in royal limousines. The man shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s seat.
“What Echelon are all these people in purple?” I ask.
“Palace servants are Guardians,” he says. “Their work supports the running of Phangloria.”
I nod, wondering if they also have combat training. Carolina’s estimate of two-hundred palace guards will be off if these people are willing to die to protect the Royals.
Garrett offers me a glass of something sparkling and alcoholic, but I shake my head. He shrugs and takes a long sip. “Kevon will choke on his champagne when he sees you in that gown.”
I give him a closed-lip smile and mutter something about feeling nervous. My insides churn but not because of the ball. Carolina never mentioned how difficult it would be to spy. When I volunteered for the role, the Nobles were faceless oppressors, but I don’t feel that way about Prince Kevon, Garrett, or Rafaela. I stare out into the gardens, where every few hundred feet stands another guesthouse.
“What do you think they’ll say in Rugosa?” asks Garrett.
I snatch my gaze away from the window. “Huh?”
“Tonight, the residents of the Oasis will vote for the thirty girls they want to progress to the palace round. Everyone across Phangloria will watch it live.”
“Right.” I imagine what will happen if I get sent back. I’ll earn the disappointment of Carolina and Ryce, but I won’t betray people who have only shown me kindness and generosity.