My lying voice.
“I have one more little treat for everyone. Nothing too extravagant, I’m afraid,” I laugh. “But so many of you have been asking me about it that it seemed shamefully impolite to keep it to myself.” Apart from Lady Cyn, in fact, no one has mentioned it at all, but perception is reality. “I found a Parisian who imports the most delightful cosmetics—better than anything I’ve ever used before. And they have such lovely sparkle! Fortunately, glitter goes back forever, so I can wear it whenever I like. Even on Wednesdays.”
A titter of polite laughter.
“His Majesty commented the first night I wore it that it was utterly exquisite. With so many of you inquiring, I decided that all of my dearest friends should have a chance to wear it.”
My guests express their polite appreciation with a smattering of applause before Lord Aaron speaks over them, formal and ingratiating. “We’re unworthy of Your Grace’s favor. I’m certain I speak for all here when I say that we’re so looking forward to the day you officially take the crown. In this very room.”
Bless Lord Aaron for mentioning that little tidbit to anyone thick enough not to understand the significance of our setting. “Thank you, Lord Aaron,” I say, grinning widely, feeling more false than ever. “But I see my gift comes too late—it would appear that you’ve already ferreted out my supplier!”
Lord Aaron laughs and then preens dramatically, letting the light catch on the glitter adorning his cheekbones. An appreciative breath sounds from Sir Spencer, but he coughs and covers it. It’s often obvious that Sir Spencer wasn’t raised in the palace; he doesn’t guard his expressions as we’ve all been scrupulously taught. In truth, it’s rather refreshing.
A few of the assembled have noticed Molli’s sparkles now too, and she’s receiving a number of approving smiles. Amazing how easy it is to get people to think something by simply assuring them that it’s something they already think.
I reach into a cleverly designed pocket at the top of my panniers and remove several Glittered containers of lip color, cake foundation, and rouge, including some colorless gloss for my more conservative guests. The guilt washes over me again as I hand one of those to Lord Aaron’s love, but I remind myself that perhaps with a bit of loosening up, Sir Spencer would be willing to…dally with Aaron a bit more. As they both so desperately desire. Perhaps…
Focus.
I hold up the container, label forward, and say, “It is, of course, aptly named, and my supplier has given me exclusive rights to distribute this line.” Another smattering of applause, and I incline my head graciously.
Lady Cyn looks at her gift with skepticism, but I lean forward as though confiding in her and say, “You truly should indulge, Lady Cynthea. It’s utterly magical. His Highness is such an admirer.” Her lips tighten, but she removes her glove and dips a finger before passing it to her sister. That look assuages my guilt at least on one person’s behalf.
The deed done, I spend the rest of the party on tenterhooks, half expecting someone to faint into a puddle of bliss. But of course not all of them have even applied my little gift, and I made certain the dose was low. Are they laughing more loudly than usual? Is their behavior more relaxed, friendlier? Are any of them experiencing euphoria?
In the end, no one slumps to the floor in mindless ecstasy, or even succumbs to an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. On their way out, several do thank me for the lovely event, declaring it an unmitigated success.
Only when Lady Cyn’s sister sends me a com the next morning, asking if she can order directly through me, do I tentatively agree.
“LADY CHEN WOULD like to sample the rouge this week,” Mademoiselle Olivier says as she brushes a dab of sparkling blush on my own cheeks.
“Certainly,” I reply, tilting my head so she can reach the other side.
“She’s also requested that her friend Lady Ebele Sesay receive a pot of gloss, as a gift. Paid in advance.”
I let myself smile a little. New client. I don’t even keep track anymore. This week I shattered my previous record, moving just shy of seven hundred units of Glitter. I can’t be bothered to count individual customers. “Tamae, make a note—let’s gift-wrap that one and have it delivered,” I say to a different young lady, sitting just off to the side. Extra effort, but Lady Chen is one of my best customers—adding sometimes five new names in a week—so I’ll do it for her.