The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(90)
The memory stings—the bed once snug with a tangle of legs and arms and warmth, and now, so few.
I start to ask them if they’re all right and if we’re going to be all right, but we each make eye contact and lie there in silence. I hold their hands and trace my fingers over their skin and gaze at them, ensuring that my few remaining sisters are intact. I am filled with regrets and unrequited wishes.
The doors open and Lady Pelletier pushes Charlotte in a wheeling chair followed by Lady Arane, Surielle, and Violetta.
Hana, Padma, and Edel sit up.
I struggle to rise.
“Please don’t move, Camille,” Charlotte says. “Rest.”
Lady Pelletier pushes her close to the bed, then leans down and kisses my forehead. I swallow down tears. The softness of her lips reminds me of Maman.
“You look better,” Charlotte remarks.
“Her levels are almost back to normal,” Hana reports. “A few more days of rest, and she should be back to her old self.”
I don’t even know who that is anymore.
“You saved us,” Lady Arane says to me. Her black eyes hold joyful tears as she gazes into the bed. “You opened the Observatory Deck and then created the perfect diversion.”
“It didn’t feel much like saving,” I admit.
“But you did it,” Charlotte adds, her voice strong and clear.
“What happened? How many days has it been?” I ask, trying to piece together the rest of the night after I fainted.
“It’s been three days. I’ve freed all the Belles, plus the Fashion Minister and Beauty Minister, from the Everlasting Rose and put my sister in her own prison, where she will stand trial for her crimes and get the help she needs. I don’t know if she will ever truly understand the damage she’s done, but I will spend my days impressing this upon her.”
She purses her lips. “You missed my coronation,” she teases.
“You are a beautiful queen,” Lady Pelletier adds with a smile. “Your mother would be proud.”
We all kiss our two fingers and tap our hearts to show respect for the dead. I let my hand linger there, thinking of Valerie, Amber, and Arabella.
“Where are the other Belles?” I ask.
“I’ve seen a few of them,” Edel interjects. “They’re here at the palace.”
“We’ve released them from the teahouses as well and given them accommodations.” Charlotte takes a breath. “And we’d love it, Camille, if you’d stay with us, and be our advisor on all matters related to Belles as we figure out what beauty work will look like going forward.”
Lady Arane clears her throat. “Living without modifications does take adjustment and patience. The Iron Ladies will be moving our headquarters to Trianon to assist those who wish to make the change,” she assures me.
The proposition stirs around inside my head. This last year I’ve felt like I’ve been trapped in a snow globe, shaken and jostled until the glass fissures and all the water leaks out. Before, all I ever wanted was to live at the palace forever in one of the beautiful apartments. But now, all I want to do is go home. Or to whatever is left of it.
“Your Majesty, it would be an honor to help you with this and to be here with you, but I don’t believe it’s the right path for me,” I tell her. “I want to go back to Maison Rouge and take any Belles who want to come with me. While things are still settling across the kingdom, it will be a troublesome time for us. I need to be in a place that I know is safe, and I need to keep my sisters safe. And, if I may... I must also grapple with the things I’ve done—and the losses I’ve suffered.”
Charlotte smiles knowingly. “I understand. I respect your decision. But I will still need your help. All of your help.” She gestures at Hana, Edel, and Padma.
“I’ll stay behind,” Edel says, surprising us all.
“You will?” Padma replies.
“I won’t ever return to another teahouse,” she declares. “And if things are going to change in Orléans, I want to be a part of that change.”
She reaches for my hand and for Hana’s. I can feel her pulse thrumming beneath her skin.
“If I accomplish one thing in this life,” she says firmly, “it will be to ensure that the old way of doing things is done.”
A week later, the journey home from Trianon feels a thousand moments longer than the one that first brought me and my sisters to the imperial island. Our hearts buzzed with the promise of being true Belles, stepping into our destinies, being chosen and placed. The two days drifted past us before we knew it, our fates sprawled out before us like paths to unknown places, full of promise.
The horses’ pace quickens as the carriages travel north across imperial bridges connecting the main island to outlying ones. The ride home is shadowed with worries, a tapering storm that may reignite at any moment.
We sit in silence. The noise of the road among us. Padma thumbs through Arabella’s Belle-book. Hana reads a stack of newspapers and tattlers. Rémy sleeps, his arm in a sling and his foot propped up. Bree stokes a small fire. The absence of Valerie, Edel, and Amber is like a cold weight in my chest. At least Edel is well. She’s taken her place at the palace at Charlotte’s side.
I glance out the window at our procession—several carriages carrying Belles released from the Everlasting Rose and the teahouses—all those who wished to come.