“Henrietta-Maria, tell them to bring out the beauty boards,” Sophia orders. Henrietta-Maria skips all the way to the door, then disappears into an adjacent room. When she returns, she’s trailed by a team of servants holding canvas boards and easels.
“Camille,” Sophia barks.
I leap up from my chair.
“What do you think of these? I had my beauty cabinet make them up. And my mother continues to meddle and edit them.”
I circle the boards. They feature different looks—nose shapes, hair and eye colors, facial structures, hair textures, body shapes, and skin tones—matched with fabric swatches and rouge-stick smudges and nail lacquer.
“They’re lovely,” I say. And boring.
Sophia rushes up to me so fast, I take a step back. She cups my hand in hers. “I don’t want to just be beautiful. I want to be the most beautiful.” She doesn’t blink, and her eyes stretch open so wide, it’s as if she’s trying to take me completely in. “I need to make the beauty-scopes this week. It’s my birthday.”
I’ve never seen her in the scopes. Not once. It’s as if the newsies purposefully ignore her. But her sister, Charlotte, used to frequent them until she became ill.
“I have a secret for you,” she tells me. She leans close to my ear. Her bottom lip grazes it. “I wanted you. My mother wanted your sister.” Her words burn all the way down my neck into my chest like a scalding hot tear. “Your sister couldn’t give me what I want, but I know you can. I knew from the night of the Beauté Carnaval.” She pulls back and stares at me again. I feel frozen in place, like a butterfly pinned under a glass frame.
I open my mouth to ask her what really happened with Amber, but a chime sounds.
An attendant approaches. “Your Highness, your party will begin momentarily. It’s time to go to the gardens.”
She puts her hand up. “One moment.” She turns back to me, touching my cheek. “Give me a type of hair no one has ever seen before.”
Her challenge thuds in my stomach. Sweat creeps along my brow, and my cheeks flush. “Shouldn’t we wait for our first official beauty appointment together?”
“No, I want this now, Camellia. Before my party. I have a feeling my parents are going to introduce me to suitors tonight. Everyone’s gossiping about it.” She bats her eyes at me. Her teacup monkey, Singe, starts to stamp his feet and reach his paw through the cage bars. “See, Singe agrees.”
My stomach knots with worries. Ivy hasn’t taught me what the princess likes yet. The word no bubbles up on my tongue. I think of Amber. I think of all I did to get here. I think of how much I wanted to be the favorite.
“Let’s see if I was right about you,” Sophia says. And the challenge—and threat—are clear in her eyes.
“I’ll need my beauty caisse, Your Highness,” I say.
“Gabrielle,” Sophia says.
Gabrielle releases a deep sigh, then slides off her chaise and leaves the chamber.
Sophia sits at her massive vanity. Jeweled beauty-lanterns cluster overhead. I remove the diadem and set it in front of her. I undo her low bun and unbraid her three single plaits. Hair bounces around her face like a soft cloud of white-blond curls. I run my fingers through it. I feel her eyes watching my every move. I think about all the pictures I’ve seen of her. She always leans toward shades of honey and gold.
“Should I have Belle-rose tea brought out to you?” I ask.
“No, I’m trying to go without it. I like to be alert for small changes.”
Gabrielle returns with Bree, who tows my beauty caisse. She winks at me, and I smile. Bree works quickly to unhook the hundreds of clasps and fan open the compartments. I run my fingers over hair-paste pots, letting the tiny clicking melody of their lids soothe my fears. I pluck a sunflower yellow and a silvery white from the tray.
“Bree, will you dust her, please?” I ask, trying to buy myself more time to make a decision.
“Yes, my lady.” She takes a bei-powder bundle from a drawer and sprinkles it over Sophia’s hair and scalp.
The latest hair trends are adding colored highlights, or mixing hair colors like black and red. I can’t do any of those. They’ve been plastered all over the pamphlets. I look up into the skylight windows. The sun bleeds across the sky, leaving a garish trail of reds and oranges and yellows. An idea zips through me.
I use a brush to paint the roots of Sophia’s hair with the golden color. It drips like honey down the length of her strands. I dip the ends of her hair into the silvery pot of color and spread the color upward toward the middle.
Sophia grins at me. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
The arcana wake up inside me. I tug at the strands of hair, and they fall down to her waist. I twirl one around my finger to put a loose wave in her hair. The golden color fades into silver halfway to the bottom.
Her face is red and sweaty, and she pants.
“Your Highness, are you all right?” I ask. “Would you like tea after all?”
“No, no.” She waves a hand in the air. “Continue. I’m fine.”
I remove pots of ground graphite from my beauty caisse and embed the flakes in the shafts of hair, so now the strands almost shimmer.
Her breathing quickens.
“I’m finished, Your Highness.”
Sophia opens her eyes and gazes into the mirror. A smile overtakes her face. Gabrielle’s mouth hangs open. Henrietta-Maria drops her book. Claudine freezes, pastry hovering right at her lips.
“I’ve never seen . . .” Sophia starts to say, but stops to stand and admire herself. She twirls and lets her hair bloom all around her, then leans over to kiss my cheek. I jump back in surprise. Claudine, Gabrielle, and Henrietta-Maria rush forward.
I fill with satisfaction. “Let me also adjust your makeup to match.”
“You can change someone’s makeup?” Gabrielle asks.
“Well, I’m not supposed to, but I don’t think any of you will tell Madam Du Barry.” I wink, trying to get them to laugh. They simply stare at me with eager eyes and pursed lips.
I pull the head off a nearby rose. I stick it inside the soft belly of a cake of blush-crème on her vanity. The color drains from the rose as I add deeper red and white pigments to the makeup. I watch and wait for their reactions.
The girls applaud my tiny beauty enhancement.
“Splendid!”
“How clever!”
“That was beautiful.”
I add the new powder to Princess Sophia’s cheeks with a brush. When I am done, her eyes shimmer with delight. “May you always find beauty, Your Highness,” I say.
The royal attendant returns to escort us to the gardens. Sophia slips her hand in mine. “We’re going to be the closest of friends,” she whispers. “I just know it.”
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