“It hasn’t been decided,” Amber says. “We shouldn’t—”
A servant enters with a carafe of warm oil and we fall quiet. As silently as a floating feather, the servant combs the oil through Padma’s hair, making it shimmer in the subtle light like onyx. The servant then moves on to me, twisting the frizz out of each curl with the sweet liquid and pinning it up. Another servant drapes a blanket over a snoring Valerie; then they leave again.
“Du Barry said we shouldn’t speculate,” Amber says.
Hana and Edel flash me a look of annoyance. It’s the same one Valerie gave me earlier while the hairdressers created our Belle-buns, and Amber bragged about being the best at creating the perfect curl. The girls have always called her Du Barry’s “bird” behind her back.
“Scared to lose, Amber?” Edel’s words stir up Amber’s growing fury.
“It’s not a game,” I say, and now I’m the one sounding like Du Barry. “Calm down, everyone.” I try to smile at Amber, and get her to let it go. Her hands are shaking, and she’s flushed from head to toe like she’s been scalded.
“Why do you even care, Edel? You hate being a Belle,” Amber says. Tension spreads out like a thick blanket ready to suffocate us all. As we’ve grown older, spats like this have begun to ignite over the silliest of things: the chair one sits in on the breakfast veranda, whose lesson marks are the highest, who knows the most about Belle history, who Du Barry praises. The heat of the arguments lasts for weeks, like too much sun in the warm season.
Hana waves her hands in the air. “Stop! We’re too old for this.”
“And it’s our birthday,” Padma reminds us.
“Oh, I don’t care.” Edel rises from her chair. “I just don’t think it should be you, Amber, just because you always do everything you’re told.”
Amber’s glare stings. “Being a Belle is an honor—”
“There was a boy near our carriages,” I blurt out.
Edel, Hana, Padma, and Amber turn to stare at me. I’m sure my cheeks are glowing pink.
“He was standing next to the gate.”
“A boy?” Padma claps her hands.
“What happened? What could he possibly have wanted?” Amber zips through a flurry of questions. “And how did he get past the guards?”
“What did he say?” Hana says.
“He asked if I could make someone out of clay, like the newspaper headline—”
“Those newsies have no idea—” Amber starts to say.
“Yes, Amber, we know. Let her finish.” Edel scowls.
“It was just the two of us,” I say. “I don’t know where the guard went.”
“Were you afraid?” Padma asks. “I would’ve been shaking.”
“No.” I remember how the boy made me laugh. The memory rushes through me.
“Well, you should’ve been. It’s forbidden,” Amber says.
Hana scrunches her nose like she’s tasted a lemon.
“Be quiet, Amber. What did he look like?” Edel leans over the edge of her chaise toward me. “And someone wake up Valerie. She needs to hear this.”
Padma walks to Valerie’s chair and jostles her shoulder. She rolls over and releases another snore. “She’s going to whine about missing everything.”
Amber crosses her arms against her chest. Her flush matches the deep ginger of her hair. “Why does it matter what he looked like? She shouldn’t have spoken with him. She should’ve called for the guard or joined us. It’s unsafe.”
“He was handsome,” I say. “Very much so.” Padma, Edel, and Hana burst into laughter.
Edel’s eyes stretch wide. “He wanted to kiss you.”
Amber scoffs.
“No, he didn’t,” I say.
“I’ve heard about it. Some people think it’s lucky to kiss a Belle. That it’ll bring good fortune to their houses. A daughter of the Goddess of Beauty is the luckiest person in the kingdom of Orléans. That’s probably what he was after,” Hana says.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Amber says.
“A kiss wouldn’t be terrible, would it?” Hana jumps up, pretending to kiss someone and dance with them across the room. Edel joins her. They morph into a tangle of pale arms and legs. Everyone laughs except Amber.
“It would be catastrophic.” Amber throws her hands in the air, and her eyes fill with angry tears. “We’re Belles, not courtesans. They already have plenty of those girls at court—ready to be kissed—tripping over themselves and their high pianelles to get to titled courtiers from high houses.”
I reach over to touch Amber’s arm to get her to relax, but she brushes me away.
“Maybe he’s fallen in love with you.” Edel presses back into her chair, staring dreamily at the ceiling. “I’d give anything to feel something else, to see something else.”
The curiosity of love and being kissed fills me with a blush so deep, sweat beads form along my brow. It’s intriguing, but I don’t know if I want to experience it.
“Don’t be fools. You can’t have both. Who wants love when one can be powerful?” Amber says.
“I just spoke to him. That’s all,” I say. “It was a great night. Let’s talk about that instead.”
“Remember what happened to Rose Marie? The Belle from the past generation who tried to marry?” Amber speaks as if she’s a Belle historian, when we all know the same information. Du Barry had warned us that Rose Marie caught a sickness that plagues the Gris. When Rose Marie returned home from court, we’d just had our fourteenth birthday. She rarely left her room. We used to dare each other to get a look at her, and see what was under her veil. First one to get closest would earn glory, and be entitled to each girl’s dessert at dinner. No one ever won.
“It was the son of Madam Bontemps, House Reims, one of the queen’s ladies-of-honor. They were caught together—”
“We know, Amber,” Edel says.
“They put him in one of those starvation boxes,” she adds.
Padma jams her fingers in her ears. “I don’t want to hear about this. You know I can’t handle it.”
“Amber, I didn’t say I wanted to fall in love—”
Amber yells out an exasperated scream and leaves the room.
“What’s happening with her?” Hana asks.
“She cares too much,” Edel says.
“It’s all the stress of the night. Has to be.” I gaze behind me, looking for her outline in the corridor. I stand to go after her, but nurses flood through the door before I can leave.