Healthy, lively…
Beautiful.
Cedric blinked, the realization striking him with a sudden, sharp clarity: she was no longer merely a project to him.
He must look away. Immediately.
Yet the cheeky grin that pulled at her lips held him captive to their rosy hue. “I don’t believe that’s how you should address Her Highness,” she said.
Cedric smirked, his expression softening. “No, it is not—but it’s how I address a friend.”
Her mouth parted, and pink dusted her nose. Then, her smile bloomed. “Thank you… for being my friend.”
Chapter nine
Nin swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as she stood before the full-length mirror. Lucille painted her face with white powder, adorned with small, black patches—one in the shape of a star to cover the mole near her mouth and a heart to conceal a scar on her forehead. They clung awkwardly to her face, but according to her studies, she knew they were in fashion to hide unwanted marks, or in her case, features that would give away her true identity.
Her hair was gathered on her head, decorated with curls and roses, and dusted with more powder. Her painted lips and the rouge on her cheeks were a stark contrast to her pale skin. Layers of clothing sat on her frame—a chemise, petticoats, and hip pads.
Nin hardly recognized herself.
In two weeks, she had put on a bit more weight, and the stays molded to her body more comfortably. A gown of golden sunshine glimmered under the chandelier, highlighting the delicate pleated backing that flowed into a train. A light blue sash wrapped snugly around her waist and tied into abow in the back—with a matching silk choker resting on her neck. Rose blooms cascaded from her right shoulder across her chest and down her pale, yellow gown. Their pink, ivory, and mauve petals complemented the silk sheen of her skirts. A small rose with translucent, shimmering ribbon embellished her elbow-length sleeves.
She finally saw what the others had seen in her all along:
Princess Marianne Éloise de Montclair.
And for the first time, she bloomed into a beauty she didn’t think was possible.
She blinked, unable to process the image and emotions clashing within her. Somehow, they wiped away all signs of her usual self. She frowned.
Behind her, Lucille took a step back and beamed through the mirror.
“I think you’re ready, dear.”
Sweat beaded at the back of her neck.
“I hope I am,” Nin said with a tight smile.
She wished she could exude more confidence, but practicing in a confined room was different than facing the court and masquerading as the princess. As much as she wanted to escape the suffocating room, what waited beyond was more frightening.
“You are ready,” a masculine voice interjected behind her. “I believe in you, but you must believe in yourself.”
For some reason, her stomach gave a small flip when Cedric appeared in the mirror next to her. His deep, dark eyes softened behind his spectacles, reflecting a proud glimmer.
Nin flushed.
Ever since he apologized to her, he had been less demanding. She progressed more under his patient teaching, yet all the information she had forced herself to memorize threatened to make her dizzy. She hoped she could recall everything she needed to and not make a blunder of herself.
Courage—that’s what she needed, even if she must feign it. Pretending to have it was what had kept her alive on the streets thus far, and it would be the very thing that would keep her alive now.
“Yes, well… I suppose it’s now or never,” she said.
“We will take it slow,” Cedric reassured her. “We can limit your interactions with the court since you are still in recovery.”
“I would appreciate that,” Nin said, relief blooming in her chest.
“Are you ready?” Lucille asked.
