The Liberian

Chapter 36

The man turned away from the prince’s chambers and walked up some narrow side-steps. Halle wondered if Damion was just beyond reach, preparing for the Gala himself. These thoughts, and anything else, were lost as she was brought to a guest chambers.

While not as lavish as the prince’s quarters, Halle was mesmerized by the large sitting area with an attached bedroom. Connected to that was a private bath. Halle’s hands touched every inch of white marble, porcelain, and gold within reach. It was physical verification that the splendor before her was not a magnificent dream. Her fingers rested on two gold handles attached to matching hot and cold spigots.

Turning the knobs Halle sat in wonder of the magic that was hot water on demand. The servant and staff baths had running water, but it was whatever temperature happened to come out of the tap that day. Sometimes there were only large barrels to fill smaller bowls to take a sponge bath with.

“Ouch!” Halle snatched her hand back from the steaming water.

“Be careful, my lady,” a servant girl said from the doorway. Halle stood, looking at the two silent shadows who had taken over her care. Her flesh was pink, but it wasn’t a bad burn.

“I’m not a lady,” Halle said softly, opening and closing her tingling fingers.

“We know,” a darker skinned girl replied, clearly from the northern regions of the West. “Would you like help washing?”

“No, I can do it.” Halle shook her head, looking away in shame.

Halle drew her own bath and stripped—after the servants had left the room. She wondered if it was customary for royalty and nobility to have assistance while bathing. In the servants’ baths everyone bathed together, so it was not the idea of eyes on her that left her wondering. Just the notion of what nobility was unable to do on their own.

She wondered if Damion needed help while he bathed. Halle laughed aloud, blowing bubbles into the water with her giggles of amusement. No, she decided. Damion most certainly did not need help bathing.

The servants provided her with towels once she finished. The cloths were perfumed, and she smelled of flowers and sweet soaps. Halle wore a silk robe and sat in a chair in the center of the room toweling herself dry.

The darker skinned of the two servants began tugging and pulling at Halle’s hair, vigorously shaking the water out. The Eastern woman began filing Halle’s nails. Halle looked disappointedly at her fingers. She really should stop picking at them when nervous.

“Why are you doing this?” Halle finally asked, unable to handle the silence any longer.

“Because you are a noble lady from a mysterious and foreign land.” The Eastern servant grinned up at her. The servant behind her snorted, and Halle rolled her eyes.

“You know who I am,” Halle said, unsure of what made her so determined to find out the answer.

“Well, that’s why we’re helping you.” The woman with her fingers in Halle’s hair said thoughtfully. Halle attempted to turn and look at the person speaking, but she was only left immobile as her hair snagged on something. “Don’t move, idiot.” The servant sighed. “Listen, even if we weren’t ordered to help you, we still wouldn’t mind.”

“Mmhm.” The Eastern servant had shifted to Halle’s feet. Halle wondered why she needed her toenails done as well. Wouldn’t they be in shoes? “We asked around after Chater was called in. The Heartbreaker Prince has entertained lots of ladies for lunches and, well, you know what else.”

Halle shifted in her seat at a look from the servant. They all thought she had slept with the prince. Every one of them assumed she had crawled into his bed. Halle frowned, even Dylan must have.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Halle said defensively.

“You don’t have to be so modest around us, we’ve been here since we were ten.” The woman was rolling Halle’s hair around strange circular spools. “I didn’t,” Halle insisted.Well, if you didn’t, it makes it all the more peculiar,” the Eastern servant continued. “Prince Baldair has never ordered one of his common women to be prepared for a formal function. It’s all on the wrong side of the sheet, hush between the pillows. You’re the first he’s ever brought out in public.”

“But, I, this is not...” Halle wished she had something to quench her dry throat. Her and Prince Baldair? Was there more than she had previously thought?

“So, we want to show all those stuck up nobles that we’re just as good as they are.” The woman who had previously been working on Halle’s hair went over to a large wardrobe. The doors thrown open, Halle saw a single garment: a long black gown with a bustier top, capped sleeves, and a skirt of endless draping.

“Is that mine?” Halle barely heard her own words, the wonder of it sounded like a chorus in her ears.

“A Chater original,” the girl affirmed with a nod.

Halle said nothing during the process of getting into the dress. Her ribcage was squished into the most frustrating garment that she had never even seen before. It was laced in the back and tightened to accentuate her figure. The servants called it a corset, but Halle could think of a handful of other colorful words to use.

They painted her face and applied lotion to her whole body. Halle was like a living doll and equally clueless. So she sat, mostly silent, and allowed the servants to accomplish their tasks.

The dress fit her perfectly. The bustier top was silk with velvet sleeves and skirt. Halle shamelessly ran her palms over the fabric. It felt soft, like what she imagined clouds felt like.

By the time the girls pulled the last curler from her hair, the sun hung low in the sky. They touched up her curls with a rod stoked over coals, after much assuring to Halle that it would not burn her hair. Skeptical by the steam and scent that her hair gave as they wrapped locks around the poker, Halle obliged them.

Eventually, the servants took a step back and assessed their work. They would touch up this or that before reassessing. With a final nod, they pulled her to her feet.

“Are you ready?” The Easterner helped her slip her feet into heels. Halle’s ankles wobbled unsteadily.

“Am I?” Halle asked, thankful the young woman had not yet let go.

“There’s a mirror behind you,” she said with a small smile. There was a wistful longing on her cheeks, and Halle felt a twinge of guilt for having this opportunity. She turned in the direction of the mirror. Awkward in the tall shoes, she tripped on her skirt—almost toppling forward were it not for the Eastern servant’s support. The young woman laughed loudly. “You need to work on that, Miss Lady.”

Halle didn’t even hear the jest. Staring back at her in the mirror was a woman who Halle could not recognize. Frizzy and untamable hair had been curled, falling in brown, almost ringlets, over her shoulders. In the black gown, her yellow-hued skin almost seemed to glow golden. The hazel of her eyes lit with the touch of smoky shadow upon her lids, enhanced by a dark liner. Halle took another step closer.

It wasn’t like her palm mirror in her room. She didn’t have to bob her head around to attempt to see her whole face. Halle could see her whole body, and she stared in awe. Her arms were scrawny and her chest wasn’t much to speak of, even with the help of the corset. But her waist was small and her neck looked long and regal. She looked—

Halle couldn’t bring herself to even think it.

“You’re beautiful.” The woman who had done her hair filled in the word for her.

“Thank you,” Halle whispered. There wasn’t anything else she could say, but it wasn’t nearly enough for what these people had given her. She looked like a lady, a real lady.

“Let’s practice walking in those shoes before we turn you over to the hounds of polite society.” The Easterner took her hand and began to lead her around the room.

Halle walked around the guest rooms, hand in hand with each of the young woman. Like children learning their first steps, it was a slow process but Halle eventually took to it. By the time they called for a servant to escort her to the Gala, Halle hadn’t tripped in over a fifty steps.

“Will Prince Baldair be escorting me?” she asked the servant who led her down a small side hall.

“He is already greeting the Gala’s attendees.” The servant kept his eyes forward.

“Am I late?” Halle wondered if her walking practice had gotten her into trouble.

“No, my lady, you are on time,” the servant responded.

Halle wondered how she could be on time if the prince had already arrived to greet others, but she kept her ignorant questions to herself.

Eventually the hallway merged with a major hall of the palace. On one end two doors stood open wide. Halle saw the fabled glittering chandeliers of the Mirror Ballroom hanging from the ceiling before its second story entrance. The servant who escorted her gave a nod to a different man positioned at the door before turning away without a word.

“Wait, where are you going?” Halle asked, suddenly aware of how alone she was.

“You didn’t think I’d walk in with you, did you?” The man turned with a chuckle. “Good luck, Lady of the Common Folk.”

Halle stood dumbly watching the man walk away. She listened to the sounds drifting up through the doors. It sounded like half the city was in that bright and mysterious ballroom. Halle looked down the opposite end of the hall. A few people were making their way up, but nothing would stop her from turning and running back to her room.

Taking a step away from the doors, she looked at where the servant had disappeared. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some lady from a foreign land. She was Halle Yarl, the farmer’s daughter whom no one expected to be able to read or write. Her feet stopped.

That wasn’t all she was. Halle turned and started for the doors before her resolve failed her. She already had secrets. She was the first Windwalker. She was something the crown prince had claimed he would protect. Halle’s toes stopped at the edge of the light in the doorframe. She didn’t yet know what she was about to blossom into, but it was far greater than a library girl.

“Are you ready?” the servant asked softly.

“Yes. No.” Halle swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Listen to the name I say.” He took a step out into the light, drawing a deep breath. “Presenting, Lady Rose.”

Halle stepped out into the light and was almost blinded. If one full-length mirror had been overwhelming, the walls of the mirror ballroom were enough to make her feel dizzy. A long stairway challenged her footing, and Halle descended, trying to keep a smile on her face.

The room was reduced to hushed whispers, even though the ambient music continued. People were multiplied by the reflective walls and Halle began to feel her resolve diminish under all the prying eyes. Why had Baldair chosen the name Rose? It clearly was a fake name. Who was actually named after a flower?

She walked slowly, determined not to fall, her eyes darting throughout the room as she tried to hear the hushed words from the crowd.

They were not whispering about the name, Halle quickly realized. It looked as though all the colors of the library’s stained glass ceiling had come to life. Vibrant hues dotted the large dance floor waiting beneath her. Southern blue seemed to be the preferred shade, with a few reds of the West; there were even purples of the East sprinkled in. There were no other dark color