My knees are feeling weak and my head a little light when they finally pull the satin away from me, full of pins, stitches, and light blue markings, leaving me in nothing but undergarments that are both low-cut and near-transparent. The Parisians treat Saber as a genderless peon, not worth my modesty—apparently Paris and Versailles remain alike in their treatment of “inferiors.” A week ago I’d have been humiliated, but today I stand with a smile barely concealed as the satin falls away, leaving me in rather stunning déshabillé. His eyes widen, and though I only hear his fast intake of breath because I was listening for it, it’s definitely there.
As soon as all the pieces are removed from my body, I accept a silk robe from one of the Parisian designers and beckon for Saber to follow me into the bedchamber. “We’ve just enough time to pick an ensemble for tonight’s assembly,” I say without looking at him. “But we must hurry.”
The doors close us in and Saber grabs me from behind, pulling me against him and kissing my neck. “Hurry indeed,” he growls in my ear.
“Well,” I say, turning in his arms to face him, to offer him my mouth, “we’ll have to hurry a little.”
I’m drowning in Saber’s kisses and considering whether I can get away with crying off the assembly entirely when a knock sounds at my door. I want to ignore it, but M.A.R.I.E. Lenses me a feed of the person on the other side. Molli’s oddly nervous expression entreats me, and I know I can’t turn her away.
“It’s Molli.” I pull myself from Saber’s arms and hurry through the gilded gate to perch at my dressing table. “Give me twenty seconds, then open the door. Hair, M.A.R.I.E.,” I whisper. Saber waits just long enough for the bot to reach me before pulling open the double doors and bowing low.
I meet Molli’s eyes in my mirror and then turn and smile. “Molli!”
She hesitates in the doorway. “I missed your com. I was worried.”
“Don’t be,” I say, rising to take her by both hands and pulling her over the threshold. “I had a long and tiresome fitting and just wanted some company.”
“You’re not dressed yet,” she says hesitantly. “I should—”
“The bots are fast,” I say, cutting her off. This awkward, nervous Molli makes me uncomfortable, and I’ve seen a lot more of her in the last couple of months than ever before. “And certainly no one actually expects me to be punctual.” I nod at Saber to close the doors, and after a moment of hesitation he does, shutting himself onto the opposite side.
Molli stares at the closed doors for several seconds before commenting, “He is so beautiful. I don’t think I’d be able to resist.”
I snort, which only makes me choke, and then we both start to laugh. It feels good to laugh with her. But all too soon Molli’s laughter dies away and she avoids my eyes. I step forward and take both of her hands in mine again, pulling her to a settee and sitting her down beside me. “What’s wrong, petite?”
She’s silent for a long time, and I’m about to lean forward to make her look at me when she says in a small, choked voice, “I know I’m a nobody, Danica, but you were a nobody when I met you too.”
“You’re not a nobody. Not in my eyes.”
“I am,” she says simply. “In the eyes of the court that’s precisely what I am. Untitled, unremarkable. And we both know it. We used to jest about it.”
“Technically,” I say sardonically, “I’m still a nobody; my title is a courtesy at best.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “No one in court gives a damn about that, and you know it. But when I met you, you were skinny and too tall, and you still had a crooked nose.”
“I think His Majesty has classified that as a state secret,” I say, pointing a commanding finger at her with a grin. But the humor is forced, and after a few seconds of taut silence, I wish I hadn’t said it at all.
“The point is,” Molli says, graciously pushing past the awkward moment, “I accepted you long before either of us had any clue you’d end up in this bedroom. And now that you have, you’ve left me behind.”
I try to interrupt, but she continues spewing out words as though it’s taken her weeks to build up the courage to say them and now that she’s started, she can’t stop.
“At first I thought for sure you’d offer me a position on your staff for the lever, especially since it was me you came to, to lament the day that it went so very badly. But two weeks later I had to find out from Lady Nuala that you’d already filled the positions. Lady Nuala, who poured wine down your dress! Then you started selling your Glitter makeup, and when you started giving me a pot every week, at least I thought maybe you were taking pity on me because I have so little pin money, but no. It’s become quite obvious that there’s something special about the makeup you sell to the titled ladies, and you give me something different. A cheap imitation, I assume, but I don’t…Danica, I thought we were friends.”
I’m utterly horrified as she lays out my sins before me. But how do you tell someone that they’re so good, so untouched, that you can’t bear to let them be a part of your seedy underworld? “But…but you’re a tour guide on Wednesdays,” I say lamely.