“Of course not.” I ball up my fists. “I just don’t under—”
“That’s right. You don’t understand. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have done something so foolish. The point is to show them that you’re strong enough to complete your role. That you’re capable, confident, and proficient in the arcana. That you can serve this great world.” Du Barry sets her teacup down. “Your little exhibition could’ve set us back. There was a time when everyone wanted to be the same. Remember your history lessons? The reign of Queen Ann-Marie II of the Verdun Dynasty. People were indistinguishable from one another. Imagine if everyone went around wanting to look like you. What if they’d only pay if they could have your features? There’d be millions of your lookalikes walking around. We’d be better off being gray again. Beauty is variety. Beauty is change.”
I wouldn’t want the world to look like me. I wouldn’t want everyone to look the same. Shame and embarrassment ripple through my core, and my stomach threatens to empty. I avoid my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace mantel.
“We will not have any more displays like these again. You are to follow the rules and stay on the path. Understood?”
I nod.
“And if you can’t, we will be forced to take more drastic measures. Simply because you’re born a Belle doesn’t mean you’re entitled to be one,” Du Barry says.
Her words slam into me. I drop the teacup. Bree rushes to help me. We wipe at the streaks of brown on my day dress. My wrist is puffy and red from the burn of hot liquid. But nothing shocks me more than Du Barry’s words. What does she mean, I’m not entitled to be a Belle? I’m one of only six. What else could I be? Where would I live? What would I do? Would the Goddess of Beauty take away her blessing, my arcana? Would I become a Gris? The questions knock around in my head.
“I bet, in all your vigorous plotting, you didn’t learn about Heather Beauregard.”
“I tried to tell her about that Belle once, but Camellia never likes to listen, Mother.” Elisabeth smiles at me.
I remain expressionless, even though I’d love to slap the smug grin off her face. I don’t want Du Barry to know the worries and questions humming inside me. I don’t want Elisabeth to see that she’s gotten to me.
“She was three generations before your mother. A very talented Belle, named the favorite. But she didn’t follow my instructions, or respect the honor that the Goddess of Beauty bestowed upon me. So I took her from court and kept her at La Maison Rouge. I never let her return to court. I will do that again if you can’t fall in line. There’s far too much passion in your blood, Camellia.”
She waves to Bree, and I’m dismissed. I stand and walk to the door with the servant at my side. Each beat of my heart echoes in my ears.
“Whether you’re chosen to be here or are assigned to one of the teahouses, I can bring you home at any time,” Du Barry says. “Elisabeth will be watching. I will be watching. Now, fetch Edel.”
The doors close behind me.
9
Through breakfast and then bathing in the onsen, Du Barry’s words drum through me like a vibration whose ripple won’t stop. I’m floating outside of everything around me, unable to stay anchored. After lunch, I stand on a seamstress block in a slip and hooped petticoat in the Royal Dress Salon. Servants drape tape-ribbons along our waists and arms and legs, and scribble numbers on parchment pages.
Elisabeth watches us. The memory of the morning conversation creeps over me again.
“What happened with Du Barry?” Padma asks me. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” I try to smile. Everything will be fine.
“You don’t look it.” Hana reaches over to rub my shoulder.
“She threatened me,” Edel says proudly.
Elisabeth clears her throat, and Edel speaks even louder. “She got so mad, I thought a vein would pop right out of her neck.”
“Do you take anything seriously?” Amber asks.
“You do enough of that for all of us,” Edel replies. “Du Barry told me she’d have the Beauty Minister speak with me. Like I’m supposed to be afraid or something.” She laughs, but I can’t stop being scared. I don’t want this to slip away.
“I can’t tell if the Beauty Minister is mean or nice,” Hana says. “I haven’t decided what I think of her yet.”
“Who cares if she’s nice?” Edel fusses with the servant attempting to measure her arms. “I don’t plan on talking with her about my behavior.”
“She’s been elected twice,” Valerie says, then touches her stomach. “Why can’t one of you give me a smaller waist? My numbers are bigger than yours.”
“It would make us sick, Valerie,” Amber snaps.
“I know . . . I was just—” Valerie’s tawny brown skin pinkens, and she frowns.
“Still upset, Amber?” Edel’s pale eyebrow lifts. “Because there’s no excuse for your annoying temperament after we’ve had such a delicious lunch.”
Padma tsks her tongue like Du Barry.
Hana shakes her head.
“Just stating the truth,” Amber says.
“Well, your body is a pole,” Edel says. “Nobody would want you, even if you were interested in experiencing it.”
“You don’t have to be rude. I swear, you’re the most unmannered of us all,” Amber says. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Valerie. The Goddess of Beauty made you just the way she wanted you. At least you have breasts.”
“Yes, and you’re flat as a crepe, Amber.” Edel leaps off her block, shoving away another servant. “Hourglass figures and beautiful round bodies will always be coveted if I’m the favorite.” She grabs Valerie and pulls her down as well. She hooks her arms around her waist, nuzzling her face into Valerie’s neck. “I’d give anything to be shaped like you.”
Valerie giggles. Edel reaches for me, yanking me down with them. She spins us around and around. We laugh and screech and skip away from the servants.
“Don’t be so sad, or let Du Barry get to you, little fox,” Edel whispers. “Who cares what she says?”
Elisabeth tugs at us. “Get back to your places.”
“No.” Edel blows her a kiss.
I wish I could be more like Edel—want this life a little less.
“Back to your dress blocks,” the servants say.
We keep spinning.
“Girls!” Elisabeth shouts.
We turn again and again. We don’t stop. Hana joins us. Amber sighs. Padma laughs hysterically.
“There will be order,” Elisabeth hollers.
“There will be order,” Edel parrots, and we all giggle.
“Ladies, please. We must proceed,” one of the seamstresses says.
The doors snap open.
Edel, Valerie, Hana, and I freeze. Amber and Padma scream and try to cover themselves.