I spent most of the night mulling over the connotations and shades of meaning in my conversations with Olin and Speaker Shiropi. I hated this kind of game. I was no good at pretending I was something I was not. I was no good at oblique messages hidden in innocuous words. But right now, my life depended on me being good at those very things. I had to pretend, or I would shortly be dead.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and fingering the remnants of the sealant on my side. It wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be. It was only a physical scar. The emotional ones were still raw.
Tayvis had walked out on me, just when I needed him more than ever. He hadn't tried to contact me. He hadn't trusted me enough to talk to me. Vance may have engineered the situation, but Tayvis had been the one to leave. Hester's friends hadn't found anything other than that he was no longer on Linas-Drias. He'd deserted me. It hurt, more than being told he was dead.
I hated Vance for what he had done. But the rules of this combat were very clear. We were engaged to be married. And if anyone ever suspected otherwise, the game was over. I would lose. I couldn't afford to lose. The Empire was being deliberately torn into pieces. Right now, I was the best hope of saving it. The Spirit of Space must have been laughing at the cosmic joke.
At least Olin and Iniuri seemed to be on my side. Neither of them wanted the Empire to fall.
I dozed through the night.
I woke suddenly, disturbed by a sound. I lay still, ears straining to locate the source. Someone was in my room, moving quietly. I sat up quickly, pulling my side in the process. The fleeting urge to grab a gun from under my pillow shook me. It had been habit for years. I knew there were no weapons under my pillow, not here. The only weapons I had were my fists and my brain.
"Did I disturb you?" Hester asked, looking up from the wide chest of drawers. One drawer was partly open. "The rest of your clothing arrived. I brought it for you." She smiled, her face and hair perfectly smooth and calm.
Was it an act? What was really behind her face? I stared at her suspiciously. That was wrong. I made myself smile.
"Thank you, Hester." I made myself yawn and stretch. My side was sore, I'd moved too fast. I pretended not to feel it.
"You seem to be feeling well this morning," Hester observed as she moved to the window controls. Filtered daylight flooded in, a soft yellow glow. She eyed me clinically and frowned at what she saw. "There is a gathering tonight. Speaker Shiropi would like you to attend. Vance would like to see you this afternoon."
I wanted to claim I wasn't well yet. I wanted to hide in my injury. I wasn't ready to play games with these ruthlessly perfect people.
"That would be fine," I said. I couldn't make myself smile. The thought of seeing Vance made me want to break his nose. I uncurled my fists and smoothed the coverlet on the bed.
"I will see to your breakfast then." Hester crossed the room, her every move poised and polished. She seemed friendly enough. Which side was she on? Did she know how I'd spent my afternoon yesterday? Did she care?
I got up and used the bathroom. My hair stuck up in all different directions. Even in the tailored sleepwear, I looked rumpled and cheap. I'd never be able to pull off an impersonation of a high society woman. I ran my fingers through my hair. It looked worse. I sat at the vanity and tried using combs and brushes. It looked a lot better, though it was nowhere near the smooth perfection of Hester's glistening hair.
"Face it, your hair will never look like hers. You will never look like her. Be yourself," I reminded myself in the mirror. But that was exactly who I couldn't be. Or could I? I was an admiral in the Patrol Enforcers, strange as that may seem. I was not one of their polished women. I was me. I was Dace. I spread my hands over the surface of the vanity. There was no grease under my nails, but they were still ragged and short. I looked over the array of surgical looking implements and decided I had no idea what to do with them.
Jasyn was always buffing or polishing her nails. Her hands were slender and never looked as if she'd been picking rocks apart with them. Maybe I should have listened when she tried to teach me how to do my nails. I stared at my hands and wished she was here. Or that I was wherever she was.
I couldn't afford self pity any longer. The sooner I found out what Leighton wanted to know, the sooner I could go home. I drew in a deep breath and ignored the state of my fingernails.
Hester returned, carrying a tray of food. She placed it on a table in my room with her usual smile. I'd eaten most of my meals here at that table. It was almost routine.
"When do you eat?" I asked impulsively as I sat.
"Earlier," she answered.
"I don't usually sleep until noon every day," I said. The food was delicious, as always, and mostly unfamiliar.
"It's acceptable behavior for someone in your condition." Her smile hinted at a secret.
I glanced down at my side, wondering what she meant. Her face twitched. Amusement, I decided.
"It's all over the news sheets." She spread out a mem sheet on the table. "I thought you might want to know what the gossip is."
I lost my appetite as I read the screaming headline. "He told them I was pregnant? I'm going to kill him. How dare he." I snapped my mouth shut before I started swearing. It wasn't appropriate, not now. I was supposed to be in love with him. Breaking his nose and blacking his eye weren't part of the plan, much as I was tempted to do just that.
"The latest rumors are that you miscarried," Hester continued. "Which is why you've been here, recovering for the last two weeks."
"I suppose it isn't socially acceptable to be shot instead."
"Never," Hester said, her face mimicking shock. "The Empire is at peace. Unless you venture out into the wild territories where everyone carries blasters all the time."
"Is that what they believe? You should hear the stories about Linas-Drias they tell on the Frontier Worlds. They'd make your hair curl."
"Speaking of hair curling, I've managed to call in favors and get you an appointment with none other than Madame Yosefie." She smiled as if it were a great treat and an honor to have an appointment with Madame Yosefie.
"Appointment for what?" I asked suspiciously.
"Madame Yosefie is in high demand for her skills. She specializes in presentation. You won't recognize yourself when she finishes with you."
I squashed the instant mutiny inside. I made myself smile. I made myself pretend to be excited to have Madame Yosefie turn me into someone else. It was merely another move in the game.
"She should be here in a few moments. It shouldn't hurt." Hester touched my hair. "I may be wrong. Finish your meal."
I felt like a naughty child being admonished by a very patient parent. Hester either didn't know how she made me feel or she did it deliberately. She left the room. I was tempted to throw a delicate pastry roll after her. I ate it instead.
She'd been my almost constant companion for the last five days and I still couldn't read her. I didn't know what she really thought or felt about anything. I should take lessons from her in playing politics. If I trusted her, which I wasn't sure I did.
I pulled my feet in the chair, tucking them under me. I ran my hand over the silky fabric of my pajamas. They cost more than my entire wardrobe on the Phoenix. It was the least expensive of the outfits now hanging in my closet and stocking my drawers. I couldn't do this. I couldn't pretend this luxury was normal. But I had to pretend. I sighed and ate another pastry.
Madame Yosefie made an entrance only a few moments later. She threw the doors open with a flamboyant gesture and glided into the room. She was huge, built on a very generous scale. She moved like a battleship, graceful but ponderous. She stopped in the center of the room.
"Where is she? Where is this princess that I must create? Where is the woman who has caused such a crisis that I must rearrange my entire calendar for the next month? Where is she, the one who wishes me to work a magic upon her appearance?"
She pressed her hands dramatically to her jutting bosom as she talked. I tried hard not to laugh. She was dressed in a filmy pantsuit that fluttered and danced with every shift of her bulk. It was in shades of pink and yellow and orange. Her hair swept into a black cone above her head that added another two feet to her already impressive height. Colors streaked her hair to match her dress. Her face sparkled with glitter. Blue bands swept out from her eyelids to her hairline. Her lips were painted blue to match. This was the woman who would transform me into someone who fit in with the Emperor's court?
"Where is the caterpillar awaiting her transformation to butterfly?"
"Here," I said, from my chair.
She turned slowly to face me, rotating in shoes that looked much too delicate for her massive feet. She stopped when she saw me. Her eyes widened farther than I thought possible. She gasped and slapped one hand on her forehead.
"Preserve me from the infidel. This is what you wish for me to, to—I cannot find words. This, this creature, is impossible. No, not even Yosefie's magic will help this poor wretchedness." She turned to face Hester while she talked, but she moved towards me at the same time. It was odd to watch. She appeared to do one thing while in reality she was doing something quite different.
She reached out to me, her hands glittering with rings. She tugged my hair, running both hands through it. I pulled back, fighting the urge to smack her away.
"And this? This is like, like—I do not know words for such. It is not hair. No, it is not. It is beyond me."
"Good. Go away." I was offended by her assessment of me. I wasn't that bad, was I?
"Madame Yosefie, if anyone can transform Dace, it will be you. And besides," Hester said leaning close, "you are being paid twice your usual astronomical fee."
Madame Yosefie drew in a deep breath. Her perfume wafted around me, a thick bouquet of flowers and sweetness. "Then I will attempt. But it will not be easy. No, it will be far from easy."
She clapped her hands, suddenly all business. Her ponderous airs disappeared as if they'd never been. "I must see her wardrobe, firstly, while she bathes properly."
I glared at her. Was I lacking in hygiene? This woman was outrageous. I'd had enough. Hester shook her head, her eyes asking me to trust her.
"I must have my kit," Madame Yosefie announced. Hester hurried away, leaving me alone with the monster. "And you, your name, it is Dace?" She slurred the consonants and drew out the vowel sound into something strange.
"Dace," I corrected her.
"Too common," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "But if that is your name, then we cannot change it now, no?" She smiled. She looked like a big, overpainted cuddly animal with weird hair. I couldn't stay offended. She must have sensed me relax. She attacked before I was ready. She leaned over my head and sniffed, loudly. "You use the common soaps on yourself. This, it will not do. You must use the creams and the special ointments and the perfumed cleansers. And then your skin, it will glow."
I was fairly certain her accent was fake. Her whole personality was fake. But she played it so fully, it was hard to resist being drawn in. I quit fighting and gave up. It would be interesting to see what she wanted from me. And what I'd look like when she was through. The thought of me looking like a miniature version of her made me smile.
"There, you see? It will be good." Madame Yosefie patted me with one plump hand. The rings on it glittered brightly. She produced a bag of the same shimmery, floaty stuff as her dress and rummaged through it. She started stacking tubes and bottles on the table. "For hair, use it first. And this, this is for your complexion. Use it on your face. These, they will give your hands—" She stopped and shrieked. I jumped. She picked up my hands, holding them close to her face. "Oh, the horror. I cannot bear to look." She bent closer, examining my nails with the same kind of look I'd used to inspect gasket seals on my ship's engine. "These will not do. These are almost beyond help. What do you do, that your hands would be in such a state?"
"I used to fix engines," I said, just to see what Madame Yosefie would do.
To my complete surprise, she smiled and leaned close. "I used to scrub floors," she confided. Her voice held no trace of her outrageous accent. "But that will not do, now, no, it will not do that such a Gentle One should do such menial tasks." Her accent was back, thicker than ever. She winked as she handed me a slim tube of cream. "This must be used on your hands, on the nails especially, every night and morning. And then, the men they will not be able to resist kissing your fingers. You must go now. Use the creams and lotions as I showed."
She gathered up the bottles and tubes and piled them in my arms. She shooed me towards the bathroom. I went, hoping I could remember which tube was what.
I shouldn't have worried. Each one was labeled, with instructions included. I scrubbed and lathered and rinsed and repeated until I'd used each bottle and tube at least once. It took forever. I stood in front of the mirror, scrubbed pink, smelling like an accident in a perfume factory. My hair was limp, still wet and slithery from the last potion. I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out of the steamy bathroom.
My room had been transformed. A huge chair that looked like a torture implement dominated the center. Large cases full of strange looking contraptions and hundreds of bottles and little cases and things I couldn't identify crowded the rest of the floor. I didn't want to look any closer. I clutched my towel tighter in a sudden fit of nerves.
"Ah, already the transformation, it is begun," Madame Yosefie announced. Her huge, soft hands caught my shoulders and propelled me into the chair.
The towel slipped down. She felt the ridges of scar tissue on my back. She looked curiously. "What is this?" She bent me forward. She was like gravity, a force that I had no chance of resisting. "You poor lamb," she gasped as she saw the rest of my back. I'd almost forgotten about the scars. They were just part of who I was.
"Who is this, that you wish me to work my magic on?" Madame Yosefie demanded of Hester. "This is no society lady." The way she said it, it wasn't an insult. It was a compliment.
"She is full of surprises," Hester said, eyeing me. I couldn't read the expression on her face.
"That I can see," Yosefie said. "Well, there will be no backless gowns for you. Or low cut gowns. Yes, you must set a new trend in style. Oh, this will be fun." She clapped her hands girlishly.
As easily as that, my scars were dismissed.
I wanted to hate the results when she finished several hours later, but I couldn't. I stood in front of a full length mirror, astonished. She'd done things with my hair involving scissors and chemicals and brushes and things I didn't want to know about. She'd done the same with makeup on my face. She'd approved the wardrobe Hester had helped me buy. I stared at the results and wondered if the woman in the mirror was still me .
My hair glowed, deep chestnut brown, sparkling with gold and red highlights. It was swept into a smooth roll at the back of my head. Not a hair strayed, except for two deliberate delicate ringlets on either side of my face. Artful disarray, Yosefie had said in her fake accent as she pulled the strands loose. The makeup was subtle, barely noticeable, but the results were incredible. My eyes looked huge, a warm burnished brown. My cheekbones were highlighted, giving structure to my face.
I wore a long blue gown with a high collar and short sleeves. My bare arms were dusted with a glittering powder that made them glow golden in the light. My nails were shaped and painted delicate pink. She'd found a bracelet, a simple chain of gold, for jewelry.
I looked poised, polished, and perfect. I searched my face, feeling as if I'd somehow gotten into someone else's body.
"A miracle, " Madame Yosefie said, wiping a tear from one eye. "My magic, sometimes it amazes even me."
"Magic, yes," Hester agreed. "You look beautiful, Dace."
"How am I supposed to do this every day by myself?"
"Always the practical question," Yosefie said with a laugh. "I leave instructions, simple instructions that even a child could follow. Yes?" She held up a page covered with line after line of tiny print. My dismay at the length of it must have shown on my perfect face.
"It isn't that difficult," Hester said. "If you have questions—"
There was a knock at the door.
"Come," Hester called.
The door opened. Olin was outside, in his persona of official butler. His mask cracked when he caught sight of me. He looked me over, amazement plain on his face.
"Does it meet your approval?" Hester asked him teasingly.
"My complete approval, miss," he said to me. He cleared his throat hastily, stepping back into his role of butler. "You have a caller, my lady," he informed me.
"Who?" I asked when he didn't tell me.
"Your fiancé, Vance," he said. "Shall I send him away?"
"Not this time, Olin," Vance said from behind Olin in the doorway.
Hester fidgeted nervously at Vance's presence. She expected me to do something inappropriate. The transformation went more than skin deep. I was in character for my role, I was playing a game. And, as Vance stepped hesitantly into the room, I saw in his eyes that he was playing a game, too, a deadly serious one. He was smiling, but it didn't touch the darkness in his eyes. Whatever game it was, I was going to prove I played it better.
I crossed the room, my hands held out to him, a smile on my perfectly painted face. "I missed you."
He smiled back, but his eyes were questioning as he took my hands. "Hester and Olin have kept you well guarded. I trust you're feeling better?"
"Much," I answered.
Next move, I thought. Time to play the game better. I stood up on my toes and kissed him, lip to lip. He was only surprised for a moment. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me back. I still felt his hesitation and suspicion of my motives. I stepped back, only a little, I was still in the circle of his arms.
"Oh, I am crying over the sweetness of it," Yosefie said, sniffling loudly.