The next day, bells chime through the belly of the palace in honor of the queen. In preparation for the Declaration Ceremony, she’s announced her sickness. The court sent out mourning postballoons, complete with the queen’s joyful miniature portrait, and words about all she’s done for the kingdom during her reign. They putter along in the halls and corridors, and leave a sad trail of tear-shaped glitter and the noise of tiny wailing cries. The court is called to prayer in the Receiving Hall at different intervals of the day. Today will be marked as a day of mourning.
I wait for word from her but instead receive a dress and a summons from Sophia. I walk to the princess’s chambers with Rémy at my side.
Sophia’s private dining room sparkles like a diamond. Coldseason flowers burst from every surface. Goblets, champagne flutes, and tumblers boast jewel-toned liquid. Towers of silverflecked macarons sit like snow-covered trees on the grand table. Heat-lanterns add their warmth and light over us like stars.
I am announced to the room, the last guest to arrive.
“So glad you could make my spontaneous feast,” Sophia says. She wears a black mourning dress and a black diamond draped around her neck. Her blond hair-tower features a cameo of her mother.
“May I express my sincerest apologies for the illness of your mother, our queen,” I say with a bow, and kiss two fingers to place at my heart. The whole table mimics my gesture to show respect for the dying.
I will play this game with her tonight.
She nods and motions for me to join them. Rémy joins the other guards fanned out across the room. Auguste sits to Sophia’s left, along with a beautiful redheaded woman. Prince Alfred sits to her right with a greasy smile on his face. I startle at the sight of him.
He was supposed to have been banished.
He blows me a kiss when I pass by. Every part of me clenches. Anger sits just beneath my skin, mingling with my arcana. I spot Elisabeth at a separate child’s table, glaring down into her lap with a scowl. Sophia’s ladies—Gabrielle, Henrietta-Marie, and Claudine—sit to her right. The rest of the courtiers present are strangers.
Singe dines with us, and Sophia presents her new, tiny teacup giraffe to the group. A gift from her mother. The animals eat from porcelain plates and stalk along the table.
“Camellia?” Sophia calls. “Have you met Lady Georgiana Fabry, my suitor Auguste’s esteemed mother?”
“No, I haven’t,” I reply. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
Her mouth is a straight line. She gazes at me and nods, before turning to whisper something to Auguste. I try to make eye contact with him. He avoids my gaze.
“Where’s the food?” Claudine jokes, and taps her knife on a plate.
“Oh, do have manners,” Gabrielle says.
“We’re waiting for one more guest,” Sophia reveals with a smile. She turns around and waves a hand at her guard. A new place setting is added to the table.
Whispers about the mystery guest ripple down the table through the voice-boxes.
“Any guesses?” Sophia says. “I’ll gift a beauty token to anyone who gets it right.”
Gabrielle and Henrietta-Marie bet on a famous singer. Others list beautiful courtiers who have landed in the beauty-scopes this week.
“She’s here,” Sophia says.
The doors creak open.
We all turn.
My jaw drops when Amber strides in. A jade-green gown blooms around her waist like flower sepals stitched all together. “Ambrosia Beauregard,” the attendant announces. “As you requested, Your Highness.”
“Amber!” My heart fills instantly, and I realize just how alone I’ve really been without her. I leap up, run across the room, and hug her. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper into her neck and hair.
“Me too,” she replies. It’s so good to hear her voice after all this time that I almost burst into tears.
“A nice surprise, right, Camellia?” Sophia says.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I say.
Amber sits beside me. I have to let go of her hand as the food appears, but I don’t want to. I’m filled with all the things I want to ask her, all the things I need to tell her.
The courses appear in rapid succession—savory rabbit and roasted duck and fish, platters of vegetables and salads. I’m careful to only eat after the others have taken bites, and tell Amber to do the same. Amber and I slip into our own bubble. Conversation swirls around us but we only whisper to each other.
“What happened while you were here?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you later,” she replies. “Have you heard from the others?”
“Not for a few days,” I say. “But Edel—”
She nods and lifts her eyebrows with acknowledgment.
Sophia taps a champagne flute. “I have an announcement.”
Conversation at the table stops. All eyes turn to her.
“My dearest lady-of-honor Claudine will be married.”
Claudine drops her spoon in shock. My heart instantly goes out to her.
“I can’t have my ladies rotting on the vine,” Sophia says. “So I’ve decided to arrange suitable mates for each of them before my own nuptials.”
“Who is the lucky person?” a guest calls out.
Sophia clasps her hands together over her chest. “One of my very own cousins. Prince Alfred.”
I grip the fork in my hand so tightly it leaves a chrysanthemum-shaped imprint in my palm.
Sophia puts her hand up. “No need to thank me, Claudine. He noticed how beautiful you are, and we’ve been discussing it. I thought you’d make a lovely match. I did think about arranging you with Lady Walden’s daughter Rebecca from House Lothair, but she was already betrothed to another.”
Prince Alfred stands. He walks to Claudine’s side and drops to one knee. “I’m certain I can make you the happiest woman in all of Orléans.”
Claudine’s cheeks flame red. Sweat dots her brow.
“But—”
“You’re so welcome. You’ll be a princess du sang. We will be cousins.” Sophia pulls Claudine from her seat and hugs her. Claudine is like a statue. Her lips quiver.
“I don’t think I’m ready for marriage, Sophia,” Claudine says when the princess finally pulls away.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You were so devastated by the last person who dumped you. I thought I’d spare you the further humiliation. This way you’re all settled.”
“But, please, Sophia. I need to tell you—”
“Not another word. It’s time to celebrate. I have chosen for you. That is my divine right.”
I spot Claudine’s attendant in the far corner. She stares forward, glassy-eyed and near tears.
“Now, my cousin Alfie can be quite particular about the way his wife should look. He’s been through quite a few.”
Alfred chuckles. The whole table laughs.
“But since we have another Belle in our midst, I figured I’d give you the opportunity to try on a new look. Feel more confident. Have you both choose your forever look together. And for my closest friends to see, in the open, more displays of our lovely Belles’ talents. We should have more exhibitions like the Beauté Carnaval on a regular basis to remind us of their talents.” She rests her hands on top of Claudine’s now-slumping shoulders. “Stand for me.”
“Sophia, I’m happy with my look,” Claudine says. “I’ll just settle into this one.”
“But I’m not,” Prince Alfred says. “I think you could be a bit bigger in your middle section. I like women with curves.”
The table laughs again. Panic shines in Claudine’s blue eyes.
“Let’s be a little adventurous, shall we?” Sophia says. “After all, I’m in mourning from the news about my mother, and I need cheering up.”