The preparations for the ball are coming along nicely. Plenty of food is being prepared in the kitchens and has been for days. The decorations in the ballroom are exquisite, with fabrics in bright colors draped across the walls. The wooden floor is gleaming.
Tonight, I hope to not fall on my face on this floor, in front of the thousand or so people we're expecting. This room won't hold them all, but the palace is big enough that there are plenty of other rooms done up in similar fashion. Throughout the rest of Indell and all of Valcora, similar feasts are being held. My people will hopefully remember this day as a good one.
Inkga comes in the ballroom from a side door. “It's time to get ready for the ball.”
“It's not for another three hours,” I reply.
“It's not really enough time, but I didn't think you'd let me get away with preparing you all day.”
“What could we possibly do that would take so long?”
“Hair. Make up. Perfecting your dress.”
“Sounds like nonsense to me.”
She laughs. “Maybe, but you want to make a good impression on your guests.”
“I suppose.” Mostly, I want them to like me, but apparently I'm not that likeable a person. I'll have to figure out another reason for them to like me, other than for who I am.
We move to my bedroom, where my preparatory stuff is waiting, including all five of my other servants. Inkga sits me down and starts by combing through my hair.
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course not.” But just in case there's something I can do about it, I ask, “Why do you think so?”
“You're pinching your fingers together.”
“Ah.” Well, that's easy to fix. If I remember to think about it, that is. I hope I don't do it in the middle of the ball.
After they comb through my short hair, now midway to my ears, and take my hair out of the pins, I make the servants wait in the other room while I take a bath. I put on a shift and open the door for them.
“Why don't you take a seat?” Inkga asks. “We'll get you ready, and then we can put your dress on. There's no sense in wrinkling it or getting it stained.”
I take a seat, staring at myself in the vanity. One of the servants takes the mirror off. She turns it around and places it on the floor against the wall.
“Why did you do that?” I ask.
“I asked her to,” Inkga says. “I want your final transformation to be a surprise if that's all right, Your Majesty.”
“It's fine.” Though it's not. I can't see behind me, like I'm used to. I want to know if one of them is about to stab me.
Instead, I'll have to trust them. It's a hard thing to ask of me.
Inkga starts in on my hair, while others work on my nails and face. While my hair is tugged and pulled on, my nails are softened with oil and the tips rounded, and my face is dusted with fine powders—all of which takes a good long while.
I try to sit calmly, but I want to move about. My body aches to get out of this chair, as comfortable as it may be.
A servant comes scurrying in.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Your Majesty, the herald would like to know your name so they can present you properly.”
The hands working on me still. This is not something I want to deal with right now. “You don’t need to know my name.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but how will we know what to address you as if we don’t know your name?”
Shame burns through me. I keep still. How am I going to get out of this one? “I am Queen of Valcora, that is all the people need to know.”
He gives a tight frown and bow before heading back out of the room. My servants continue working on me, their hands moving slower than before. I work to keep from clenching a fist.
When my servants are done, they start in on dressing me in an elaborate silver colored gown. It's made of the silkiest material, almost like water against my skin. They puff and tweak and rearrange.
“There,” Inkga says. “You're ready. Would you like to look in the mirror?”
No.
When I don't reply, she says, “Come on. You look fantastic. It's not every night a girl gets to go to a ball, adorned like this.”
But what if I hate it? I don't want to hurt her feelings.
“Just look,” another girl says.
“You'll love it,” says a third.
I haven’t heard them so vocal before. Their enthusiasm has me wishing I stopped to learn their names. “I suppose it won't hurt anything to look. But if I don't like it…”
“You will,” Inkga says. “I know it.”
We spent three hours getting me ready. It’s longer than anyone should have to sit in a chair, being primped for something, but I've lived through torture. I can live through this. I might as well see what they’ve done to me. I take a deep, steadying breath before looking in the mirror they replaced.
My slippers are hidden beneath the volume of fabric. Strands of white swirls are sewn into the silver material. I give a little sway back and forth, letting the skirt swish around my legs. It has a rounded neckline with capped sleeves, and it hugs my thighs, giving me room to walk freely and still hide my daggers.
Though I'm unfashionably skinny, the dress is by far the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It looks just like it was made for me. If I was into girly things.
My hair is pinned up to look curly around a silver headband that the tiara will go over. My lips are a pale pink, and my cheeks are faintly blushing, but what really gets me is how big and blue my eyes look. They're surrounded by the faintest bit of silvery shimmer.
“It's breathtaking,” I say. “Thank you, all.”
The girls grin like I rewarded them with extra pay. After this, maybe I will.
“Just in time, too,” Inkga says. “The ball is starting now.”
I take a deep breath. I suppose it's time. I'm about to attend my first ball. I don't remember ever having such nerves before, except for my first job.