Page 27 of Kingdom of Flames & Flowers
I’d been dreading this, but it was the next necessary step to advance in these ‘games.’
They led us all into the grand ballroom where the royal family was already seated on their thrones on a raised dais. Zion was in his princely demeanor today, dressed in a formal military jacket with woven threads of red and gold that looked like liquid fire going up his shoulders.
Always fire. Always flowers.
The king had the same jacket, but the entire piece was nothing but woven thread meant to represent flames. While the effect worked on Zion, it looked garish on the aging king. The queen sat serenely by his side in a dress of pure silver that wrinkled and creased when she moved. She eyed all of us with thinly veiled disdain in her tight smile until her eyes landed on me.
Vession led us proudly into a straight line and motioned for us to all sit on the bottom step of the dais.
Like we were all exotic pets.
I couldn’t help but notice how everyone stared at me. The queen glared openly, twisting her head and whispering frantically into the king’s ear, who frowned. Zion stared.
Not that I blamed them.
Elio had covered me head to toe in a glittering jewel I’d never seen before—one that shined so brightly that the other girls only stared in jealousy as he wrapped the heavy skirt and bodice around me. He said I only got away with it because he was borrowing the jewels from deep within the royal vaults: something the queen had allowed them to do without realizing this gem was in there as well.
“That’s not fair! Why can’t we wear such jewels?” Freesia had argued when I’d emerged from my room fully dressed. The other designers weren’t happy as they’d clearly been outdone, but they answered nonetheless.
“It is the mud girl’s birthright,” they murmured and went back to dressing their own girls.
The stones ranged from the size of my head to no bigger than my pinky nail. They flashed a pure white around me, and in that dress, I felt beautiful for the first time in my life.
“They’re called diamonds,” Elio had whispered into my ear, “and your people used to be king of them.”
I had so many questions, but we were immediately whisked off to the ballroom.
Elio had kept my hair up high in a tight braid and out of my face. I’d submitted to a bit of makeup, though I wore flat black boots on my feet. The other girls were radiant as well, but they all acted like I’d stolen something from them with my special dress.
Freesia looked captivating in a white gown that was covered in moonstones and quartz that flashed different colors as the lights hit it. Her dress was lined with silver edging, and she matched the queen so perfectly with their silver outfits and white hair that I knew it had to be intentional.
They dressed Heather and Hyacinth in purple silk with flowing gauze trains and cowls that ghosted over their shoulders. They covered their dresses in amethyst and black lace; I thought their designer had done a fair job making them complement each other while still marking them as individuals. Heather’s hair was down and curled, making her look more like an innocent child than she already appeared. Hyacinth’s hair was half-up, half-down, making her look slightly older and more sophisticated. They both wore silver jewelry and sandals.
Azalea was a vision in a white dress, setting off her red hair brilliantly. The dress was simple, but had the effect of enhancing her natural beauty—her face was bare of the makeup caked on the other girls.
Leilani looked magickal. Her stylist had put her in a dress made of flowers. I yearned to touch one to see if it was real or made of silk, but resisted. The colors were all pretty pastels, ranging from soft pinks to yellows and oranges. The same shades offset her blue eyes, and she wore simple slippers and ribbons in her hair.
Oleria was nowhere to be seen. She must be too injured to keep competing.
I ignored the stares and kept my gaze straight ahead as Vession had instructed.
“The contestant from the art district will go first.”
Vession bowed and backed away to stand next to our row. Azalea shakily stood, and mentally I sent her a wave of support. What would she do? Paint? Draw?
She made her way toward a small table off to the side, and a guard carrying a silk screen approached from the wings. The guard unfolded it with one shake of his wrist and shielded Azalea from the front.
Muttering broke out among the crowd. Whatwasshe doing? A second guard came with a second screen and shielded her back. Azalea was still visible from the side so we could see what she was doing, but not the results.
“Cosmetics?” scoffed Freesia, putting a hand daintily to her chest. “What a waste. She should have painted a rock or something.”
None of us had anything to offer. The ballroom went quiet as she worked. I’d thought Azalea would have painted as well and maybe she was. Makeup and paint both used brushes; the only difference was the canvas.
Ten minutes passed, and the crowd was growing restless, muttering darkly among themselves. The queen rapped her nails on the edge of her throne impatiently, her lips pursed into a thin line. Those of us still sitting on the steps wiggled a bit, trying to relieve our cramping bottoms.
We all jumped as Azalea threw down the brushes and cosmetics with aclank.She reached down into a small basket and withdrew a long, white wig, flipping it easily onto her head and making a few small adjustments.
“I’m ready,” she intoned with confidence, and the fireguards stepped forward and removed the screens simultaneously, stepping out of the way with a flourish.
