The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(35)

The teacup dragons squirm as the scents tickle their noses. I tighten my waist-sash, pulling them closer, hoping the warmth and heat of my body lulls them to sleep despite the chattering noises in the cavernous room.

The Fashion Minister’s well-dressed team of dandies march through side doors and yank thick red curtains along the walls and ceilings. The view of the city and the sky above disappears. Night-lanterns are extinguished, replaced by sparklers. Attendants ease the spectators away from the center of the room and form the crowd into a perfect circle.

“Gentleladies, gentlemen, and gentlefolk of the great Spice Isles, this is the first stop of this glorious world tour. Prepare yourself for the greatest Fashion Minister to ever serve the glorious kingdom of Orléans—the one and only Royal Minister Gustave du Polignac.”

The room bursts into cheers. At the center of the circle the floor opens, and a platform soars, carrying with it Gustave. He waves at the onlookers, his false hand now gold and studded with emeralds as plump as ripe grapes. His hair sits in a spectacular cone above his head, full of diamonds. I’m flooded with memories of him, of his kindess toward me. My heart lifts with a flutter like it’s taken off. He will help us. I know he will.

Beauty-lanterns rush throughout the room as cloaked bell jars descend from the ceiling.

He lifts a voice-trumpet to his smiling lips. “Are you ready?” he teases.

The crowd erupts.

“But are you?”

They clap and jump and whistle.

I gaze around wondering how they can all be so deliriously happy and unaffected by what’s happening in the world outside this room.

The velvet cloaks drop away from the bell jars, and the dresses are revealed.

The crowd gasps.

“Behold, little darlings of the Silk Isles, my latest creations,” Gustave announces.

The jars swivel and move like post-balloons without a precise destination.

“I’ll tell you a little about my favorites. Well, I love them all, but there are a few that hold a deep place in my heart.” One of the dresses shifts right over him. The bell jar pivots left and right to show off all angles of the gown. “This one is called the Phoenix. Didn’t the story go that the God of Fortune’s phoenix changed his feathers when the Goddess of Death lured him away every month?”

The crowd hollers in agreement.

“Pay close attention.”

The feathered gown shimmers in oranges and reds, then the feathers change to molten gold, then midnight plums and blues.

Everyone cheers.

“Save some excitement,” he replies, “for the Jeweled Worm.”

Another dress moves overhead, cylindrical and writhing like a silkworm. Layers unfurl, first exposing a tier of white diamonds and glass pearls, then shifting to shades of crimson studded with rubies.

The crowd drums their feet.

“The Striped Sensation is next.” The Fashion Minister bows as a three-piece suit appears in the nearest bell jar. The black and white stripes change to gold and silver, then plum and turquoise, while its matching top hat mirrors the colors.

“Bravo!” someone yells.

“Chic!” another hollers.

The Fashion Minister accepts the praise with a slight smile. “In collaboration with our new queen, Her Majesty Sophia Celeste the Second, by the Grace of the Gods of the Kingdom of Orléans and Her Other Realms and Territories, Defender of Beauty and Borders, wants all citizens of this great world to feel deeply connected to her. By wearing these original dresses, you will indeed be closer to the queen and her brilliance.”

His forced smile is unrecognizable to onlookers, but I’ve seen it before. He doesn’t believe a word he’s saying.

“My beautiful dandies will take care of you. Place your orders. Dress with purpose. Show the world who you are. May you always find beauty!” He flourishes his cape, then the platform lowers him back down and he disappears beneath the floor.

His dandies saunter through the eager masses with pen and parchment, noting orders and requests. One approaches us. “Care to put in an early order?”

“A very large order,” Edel replies.

“How many?” he asks.

I clear my throat. His eyes flit over me. “One hundred of the the Phoenix, and fifty of the Jeweled Worm.”

His delicately drawn eyebrows lift with curiosity. “Do you oversee a harem?”

I don’t laugh. Sweat inches down my back as I try to hold on to the glamour, appear confident, and keep the teacup dragons still in my waist-sash.

“We run a very prestigious school,” I say. “We want to meet with the Fashion Minister himself to tell him more of our needs.”

“Many want to meet with him. He’s quite a busy man,” the dandy replies.

Panic wraps its fingers around my heart like a fist, squeezing so hard, it might burst. I take out our leas pouch, fish out the remaining coins, and press them into his hand. It’s the last of our stash. It’s not much. But hopefully garish enough to make him think there’s more. “We know him very well.”

Edel’s eyes burn into my cheek, but I don’t dare look at her for fear I’ll lose my nerve. “Tell him his little doll has many leas to spend.” I try to keep the desperation out of my voice.

He pockets the coins and motions for us to follow him. We zigzag between groups of excited courtiers bidding on the displayed dresses and placing orders for additional ones.