Page 32 of A Reign of Roses
The ladies’ salon was unlike any washroom I’d ever entered. Conquered by women appraising themselves in those same glowing vanities I had in my suite, adjusting straps on shoes and fussing with belts and earrings. Gossiping and sipping fizzy wine. Two women were admiring each other’s masks before they traded, giddily evaluating their new looks side by side.
I sped over to them. “That’s just what I’ve been looking for!” Ibubbled to the wider-hipped woman, her new mask rife with snakes in place of hair. I pointed to my own. “My husband loved this one, but it’s so boring.”
“No,” she cooed, drunk. “It’s lovely. Mine was hurting my”—a hiccup—“cheekbones.” She nodded to her younger friend, who was struggling to hold the offending piece against her face.
“Here,” I offered the young partygoer, taking mine off. “Trade me?”
The other woman, too inebriated even to speak, gave me the hefty mask without argument and took mine in return.
Without as much as my thanks, I hurried deeper into the salon. I wasn’t sure how long Wyn or Maddox would believe I was sick, but I doubted I had more than a handful of minutes.
The new mask—two hands pressed across my eyes with fingers tipped in long black nails—wouldn’t be enough to slip out without alerting Wyn. My dress was too recognizable.
I scanned the washroom. Faint pink wallpaper. Porcelain and gold sinks and shelves replete with linen hand towels. No curtains I could steal…no throws or blankets—
An older woman with ringlets of white was nearly snoring in a blush settee in the corner, a chalice dangling from her fingers. Tossed to her side, a vivid, floral fur coat.
Hideous. Andperfect.
I prowled over and gently pulled the thick, dyed hide from the couch, careful not to wake its sleeping owner. Her head drooped, and I held my breath—but only a slumbering grunt drifted out.
Thank the Stones.
Wrapping it around me, I moved for—
“What are you doing?”
I whirled, heart in my throat, to find a woman in a badger mask. “That’s my mother’s coat.”
“Of course it is!”Well done, Arwen, that’s a response.
The badger appraised me, crossing her arms.
“And…” I continued, grasping at nothing. “And she was kind enough to offer it to me while she rested because I amfreezing.” I mimed being very chilly. “Isn’t there something so special about women making friends in the ladies’ washroom?”
The badger’s frown cracked slightly. “She is generous. That’s what being a mother of six will do to you.”
I laughed too hard. “I told her to come find me whenever she needed it back. I’ll be sitting up on the dais with the king.”
“Oh my,” Badger Mask said, leaning in. “You will?”
“Mhm.” I nodded. The clock was ticking and I needed this badger out of my way.
“How did you land that seat?”
“My sister. She’s a duchess.”
“A duchess! Of what territory?”
Bleeding Stones.The badger’s mother snorted in her sleep beside me and rolled to the side, pressing her face flat against the rosy fabric.
“Pirn?” I tried. I told myself that sounded like a real territory. Or maybe this would be the end of this half-baked, poorly planned—no,unplanned, ridiculously unplanned—
“I love Pirn,” the badger cooed. “Especially in the spring. So beautiful.”
“Indeed.” I grinned, narrowing my eyes at her. She was bluffing as well. I’d almost forgotten that Lazarus’s court was filled with self-serving, lying social climbers.
“Might you introduce me to your sist—”
