The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(67)
I wish Rémy were here. His quiet determination. His ability to see all aspects of a problem. His ability to present his ideas and then listen to others patiently, without arguing. His ability to remain calm. My brain is a chaos of thoughts on how to get into the palace, growing louder over the arguing voices. Only one thing is clear—one or all of us will have to walk straight through the front doors of the palace. What kind of person would Sophia be unable to refuse? All the moments spent with her shift through my mind—her insatiable desire to be the most beautiful, to be feared and loved by all, and to have the most attention in every single room.
I let the irritable teacup dragons out to explore. They knock over the house crests, making a mixed-up mess of the Iron Ladies’ chart—those they have identified as Sophia supporters and opposers.
The door slides open. A guard pushes Charlotte into the room in a wheeling chair.
“Your Majesty,” Lady Arane says.
Everyone stands to greet her.
“So happy to have you join us.” Lady Pelletier rushes to her side and places a hand on her cheek, then moves her to join us at the table.
“I could hear you down the hall. But this person you speak of...” Charlotte begins to say, her voice wobbly. “It doesn’t sound like my sister. Not the one I knew. Sweet, always in pursuit of adventure, a lover of gifts and trinkets, and full of laughter. My mother used to tell us stories of our births. My sister loved hers. Maman said there were shooting stars the day she came, and she was destined to bring light. But all I’ve seen is darkness since I’ve woken.”
“She is changed.” Lady Pelletier takes the princess’s hand.
“I’ve been reading about what has happened in Orléans since I’ve been asleep, none of it good.” She sighs and leans back in her chair. “The world has twisted her. Warped her.”
“More than just that,” I say, but no one looks up, and they launch back into sharing their various plans. Their voices rise over one another, each trying to drown out the next, each thinking their idea is better, more sound.
“We can alter the course the world is on,” Lady Arane says, striking the table with confidence. “We can make sure Charlotte is queen.” She looks at the princess and steadies her voice. “The rightful queen.”
“I need more time to recuperate. If Sophia is as bad as you say, I’ll need all my strength to do what needs to be done,” Charlotte replies.
“Queens don’t rule alone. You will have counsel and support,” Lady Pelletier assures her. “We will make sure you’re ready. This is what your mother would want.”
“Do I look like a queen?” she asks the table.
Her eyes gleam with sickness beneath the night-lantern light. A soft cloth swaddles her head and her hands fight stillness, tremors moving them without her control. The light brown of her skin fades, gray seeping in along the edges of her face.
“We thought bringing Camille here could help with that,” Surielle interjects. “She will make sure you appear strong.”
Everyone turns to face me.
“Yes. I will make our rightful queen appear healthy and formidable,” I tell them.
“And then what?” Charlotte asks. “How are we to enter the palace?”
I close my eyes and see Sophia on the throne, her teacup pets racing around her as she tortures women standing on dress blocks. I see the Sophia from my dreams, laughing and sneering beside her imperial blood cameos. I see Rémy and Edel and Amber and Valerie. An idea surges through me, the hope of it blazing bright and revealing what I must do from the pits of my heart.
“I will be her wedding gift,” I say, my voice slicing through the room, pouring out louder and sharper than I intended.
“What did you say?” Lady Arane demands.
“I will march through the front doors,” I announce.
“Excuse me?” Surielle asks.
“Auguste, you will write to Sophia and tell her you’re sending a dragon dealer to the palace in honor of the upcoming Coronation and Ascension. She needs teacup dragons for her menagerie. They’re lucky and auspicious. She will be able to meet several and pick one.”
“That doesn’t solve the issue of how we will get inside the palace. One person can’t topple an entire kingdom,” Lady Arane fires back.
“But one person can start a fire,” I reply. “Sophia loves nothing more than a beautiful gift. You just said so, Your Majesty.” I gesture at Charlotte. “One of the newsies said Sophia is reopening the skies to receive offerings in celebration of her coronation. You are adept at moving cargo no matter the method of transport. So send your entire army in a set of gift boxes via post-balloon. They’re being collected on the Observatory Deck, I believe. Someone get the latest papers.”
Lady Arane lifts a suspicious eyebrow and looks at Auguste. “What do you know of this?”
“That it’s brilliant,” he replies.
I don’t let his compliment make me smile, though his confidence in my plan strengthens it. I sit up a little taller and push my shoulders back.
“I remember going there as a child to look at the stars through the gigantic optic-scopes with my father,” Charlotte says.
“Violetta, go get the papers,” Lady Surielle orders.
Violetta nods and scurries out.