The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(75)

A flood of memories follows me into the foyer of the main entrance, and I am transported back to the night Amber was declared the favorite. High-backed chairs flank the long carpet. Onlookers sport monocles and press eyescopes to their faces and lift up ear-trumpets. Light pushes through the ceiling glass; threads of it stitch across my path, creating a tapestry of orange and gold.

We enter the throne room and I’m stunned in place, feet heavy and leaden.

Sophia is just ahead, perched on her throne, singing at the top of her lungs out of tune, her blond hair tower full of teacup swans. Her ladies-of-honor surround her. They look the same as they did weeks ago when I was here. Gabrielle, closest to her, with beautiful dark brown skin, rich and coated with glitter, then a new girl with hair the color of black soil who has replaced Claudine fawns over a teacup sloth, and little Henrietta-Marie with her nose in a book.

The sight of them fills me with rage. The arcana wake inside me, each skill a small, throbbing curl melding with my simmering ire. I’m not sure I can keep it contained. Sweat dots my brow and dampens the lace-skin Du Barry put over my face. With each breath I take, the anger bubbles up, clawing at my throat and eager to escape my mouth.

Sophia’s new royal emblem banner hangs proudly from the ceiling. Her ladies-of-honor perch on pillows at her feet, watching and goading her on. Courtiers shout blessings and sweet nothings at her, desperate for her attention.

The room is chaos. I focus my attention ahead, not removing my eyes from Sophia, wishing each glance could leave burns across her porcelain-white skin.

I move forward. Each footstep I take, I use my arcana to create a glamour. The cold pain claws up my spine. I deepen the brown color of my skin, stretch myself a touch to be taller, and darken my hair.

The taste of blood coats my tongue, slivery, metallic, and sharp. I hope I can hold off a nosebleed.

The attendant removes a voice-trumpet from his jacket. “May I introduce Lady Corinne Sauveterre, daughter of Alexandra and Guillaume Sauveterre of the House of Rare Reptilians in the Gold Isles,” the attendant announces. “She has brought you gifts from your fiancé, Auguste Fabry of House Rouen.”

The teacup dragons hiccup fire from my dress. Sophia notices and squeals. I reach the throne platform, my anger threatening to consume me as I get closer and closer to her.

Sophia races down the stairs, her favored teacup pets nipping at her heels.

“Your Majesty,” I say, deepening my voice and bowing as she approaches.

“Welcome to my court,” Sophia says, then turns to her ladies-of-honor. “Ladies, this is our new guest. She’s brought me dragons.”

I bow to her ladies as well.

“This is Gabrielle, Lady of All Things, a princess du sang and my very best friend,” she says.

“This is Rachelle, my new Lady of the Dresses to replace the unfortunate loss of my friend Claudine de Bissay.”

They all bow their heads in mock sympathy.

“And my little Henrietta-Marie, Lady of the Jewels,” she adds.

Henrietta-Marie doesn’t look up from her book.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” I reply.

Gabrielle eyes me with discerning interest.

“Just look at these dragons!” Sophia gushes, reaching into one of the cages to try to pet my little golden Or, but she evades Sophia’s fingers. Sophia’s elephant, Zo, kicks her feet up at me and pushes her tiny trunk at my skirt. She squeals with delight.

I panic. Mr. Claiborne’s warning pulses through me: There’s a natural perfume you have. Different than ours. What if Zo or her teacup monkey, Singe, recognizes my scent?

“Let me see you,” Sophia demands, facing me.

“Of course, Your Majesty. As you wish.” I remove the lace-skin Du Barry gave from my face.

My heart beats against my sides as her gaze combs over me, her odd rainbow-colored eyes full of curiosity like a teacup cat nosing around a room in search of a mouse. Who is doing her beauty work now, and how absurd has it become?

“Do we know each other?” she asks.

“No, Your Majesty. I haven’t had the pleasure to come to court before today.” I bow.

“You are a beauty,” she says.

The crowd claps.

“Though never as beautiful as you,” I add, earning a smile from her.

She blushes. “Of course.”

Zo trumpets at my feet, and I try not to flinch.

“Oh, Zo’s very friendly,” Sophia says, looking at the tiny elephant lovingly. “And it seems she likes you already.” Her eyes drift all the way up me, inspecting each and every inch. “This bodes well for our potential working relationship.”

Singe does a lap around me but keeps his distance.

“You will give me all of those glorious teacup dragons, correct? That’s what Auguste said. My fiancé knows me so well.” Her gaze fixates on them. “You saw the horrifying news about the loss of my other ones? Happened a week or so ago.”

“I did. It was most unfortunate,” I say with mock sympathy.

“Indeed. Most unfortunate. Once the perpetrator is caught, I will make them wish they’d never been born.” She pauses to look out over the crowd of courtiers. “Even though Pearl, Sapphire, and Jet will always be remembered, I must replace them. The Goddess of Love was rumored to keep dragons, so I must have them all, and any others you’re currently tending.”