Page 34 of The Beauty and the Griffin

I had taken a terrible risk, sending my girl to the Forbidden Palace, but I trusted her to solve the riddle. Just as I trusted Briar to bring back my dear friend Pukai. Once those two returned, along with my little helper Ellie—now Princess Marielle—and Rosa the brilliant botanical enchantress, the five of us high mages should be able to hold off the Mirror and its minions until Beatrice could solve the mystery of my beastly cousin.

“Dear girl,” I muttered, “please think with your headandyour heart.”

14

BEATRICE

Panic nearly stopped mybreath. How did I get to this place? By magic? Did Auntie Bella send me here? What happened to Win and the eggs?

One way or another, I was no longer in a cave. And whoever just entered the room believed I’d been napping. I might as well relax and go with the flow. But . . . a ball?

I can do this.As Princess Eddi’s companion, I’d faced any number of unique challenges.

“I’m awake.” Before I could reach for the bedcurtains, efficient hands swept them apart, and I gazed into the faces of two young women, possibly still in their teens. They wore starched white caps and aprons over equally stiff-looking black dresses. “I’m sorry . . . Have we met?” I inquired with a smile.

The round-cheeked girl with pale hair bobbed a curtsy. “No, someone else must have shown you to your room. I’m Hortense. Geneva and I are assigned to help you prepare.”

Geneva, who had glossy black curls, offered, “I can put your hair up. I’m good with hair. I helped unpack your luggage while you napped, so I know what you brought.” Both girls spoke the Common Language with no particular accent.

I nodded. “That’s . . . useful.” Although I hadn’t a clue what this dream luggage might contain.

Geneva hurried to open the window curtains, allowing afternoon light into the room. The chamber itself was elegantly ornate, yet it had a comfortable, welcoming atmosphere.

I glanced down to see that I wore embroidered white lounging pajamas that looked and felt like silk. “I would very much like to bathe before the ball. Do I have time?”

“Certainly, miss. I’ll run your bath,” Hortense said. “We’ll have to work fast, but you’ll be ready in time.”

I could have asked where in the world we were, but why bother? I followed the maid into a marvelous room of black-and-white tile, porcelain, and gleaming brass pipes, where Hortense ran hot water into a large tub on clawed feet. Bubbles mounded rapidly, and a lovely blend of vanilla and cinnamon perfumed the air. “I pressed and hung up your gown earlier and brought out your jewel case,” the maid informed me.

My gown? Jewels? Panic threatened to rise, but I shoved it back down. Whatever was going on here, my freaking out wouldn’t help anything. I could put on an act, and . . . maybe it was just a dream after all?

Grateful though I was for the maids’ help, I requested privacy while bathing and called them back only briefly for help with rinsing my hair, since it still felt soapy. Wrapped in a plushy towel, I bent over the tub while Geneva poured warm water over my long mane, then shooed her away again.

Intrigued by the array of antique cosmetics, I applied eye makeup—a bit more than usual--then a hint of blush to enhance my cheekbones, and a dab of lipstick. After donning slinky bits of black silk and lace that offered minimal coverage or support, I wrapped up in a luxurious dressing gown and returned to my bedchamber, where the maids waited.

I had always turned up my nose at being waited on hand-and-foot, but as I relaxed in a comfortable chair while Geneva styled my hair in an updo complete with finger curls, I realized I could get used to this lifestyle. Maybe it would feel like living in a museum, but the fabulous antiques and textiles surrounding us suited the room’s architecture.

Not until Hortense produced stockings, garters, shoes with pointed toes, and a gown like something from a museum did my doubts return. But the maids were so eager to please, like a pair of spaniel puppies, that I simply couldn’t refuse.

Once I was clad in the floor-length emerald gown with a black-lace overlay in a fabulous art-nouveau pattern, Geneva added a black-feathered headband to my coiffure. The rope of pearls she draped around my neck even looked genuine.

The maids stepped back to survey their work. “Golly!” Geneva sighed.

Hortense shook her head in disbelief. “Hand her a cigarette holder, and I’d take her for a cinema starlet!”

I smiled at this nonsense, yet they appeared earnest. “Take a look!” Geneva turned me to face the large mirror on the wardrobe door. After studying a reflection that looked almost nothing like me, I struck a pose, planting one hand on my cocked hip, lifting my chin, and arching one brow. But then I laughed, spoiling the bad-girl effect. The gown’s form-skimming cut emphasized my curves in all the right places. The emerald-green satin picked up ruddy lights in my hair, and my pale skin looked creamy.

“You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the ball,” Hortense gushed. “You’re . . . regal!”

I melted a little inside. “Thank you, dear girl.” Although five-foot-ten isn’t extraordinarily tall, I often felt like a beanpole. Possibly due to spending so much of my life around tiny, curvy Eddi. I loved the princess like a little sister, yet more than a hint of envy may have existed on my side. When she was around, I felt invisible. She often told me I deliberately scared men off, which was nonsense.

“The king will surely choose you as his bride.” Geneva heaved a dramatic sigh. “Maybe you’re his Fated Mate.”

That pulled me up short. “Hiswhatnow?”

She quirked a brow. “I think he’ll ask to marry you. Isn’t that what you came here for, to win his heart?”

I could only stare.

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