Read Online The Glittering Court by Richelle Mead - Free Book Online

you to use cosmetics like
that
. Red lips aren’t in style in Osfro anymore. All the highborn ladies are wearing coral and dusky pink. And you’ve applied the rouge in the wrong spot—it goes higher, up on your cheekbones.” That’s what I’d heard, at least. I’d certainly never applied my own cosmetics. “Where you’ve got it right now makes you look like you have mumps. You’ve got a steady hand on the kohl, but everyone knows you have to smudge it to get the proper look. Otherwise, your eyes look beady. And everything—
everything
—you’ve applied is far too dark. A light touch goes a long way. The way you’re wearing it now makes you look . . . how shall I put it . . . well, like a lady of questionable morals.”
    Two spots of color appeared in the girl’s cheek, making her badly applied rouge look even worse. “Like
what
?”
    â€œLike a prostitute. That’s another word for ‘whore,’ in case you’re not familiar with it,” I explained, using as formal a tone as my former governess would use while teaching Ruvan grammar. “That’s someone who sells her body for—”
    â€œI know what it means!” the girl exclaimed, turning even redder.
    â€œBut,” I added, “if it’s any consolation, you look like a very high-class one. Like one who would work in one of the more expensive brothels. Where the girls dance and sing. Not like the ones who work down by the wharves. Those poor things don’t have access to true cosmetics at all, so they have to make do with whatever they can scrape together. Be grateful you haven’t hit that low.” I paused. “Oh. And, by the way, you’re using the wrong fork.”
    The girl stared at me openmouthed, and I braced myself for a backlash. It’d be no more than I deserved, but she’d certainly deserved mybelittling. I didn’t know Mira well, but something about her resonated with me—a mix of sorrow shielded by pride. Clara had the air of someone who preyed on others frequently. I knew that type of girl. They apparently existed in both upper and lower classes, so I felt no remorse for what I’d done.
    Until her eyes—and those of everyone else at the table—lifted to something beyond me. A cold feeling welled up in the pit of my stomach, and I slowly turned around, unsurprised to see Mistress Masterson and the Thorns standing in the entryway to the dining room. I wasn’t sure how much they’d heard, but their shocked expressions told me they’d heard enough.
    No one acknowledged it, however, as Cedric and Jasper joined us at the table. Really, no one acknowledged much of anything as the meal progressed. I wanted to shrink into my seat but remembered a lady must always sit straight. The tension had been thick before, but now I could feel it pressing upon my shoulders. I regretted finishing the tart because then I had nothing to occupy myself or fix my gaze upon. I poured another cup of tea, stirring it endlessly until the Thorns rose to leave and Mistress Masterson formally dismissed us to our rooms.
    I was one of the first to hurry out, hoping if I escaped Mistress Masterson’s eye, she’d eventually forget about the scene she’d witnessed. Surely she had better things to worry about. The other girls turned toward the spiral staircase, but just as I was about to, a flash of color caught my eye at the opposite end of the foyer. Everyone was preoccupied going their own way and paid little attention when I turned from the stairs. At the far end of the great hall was the entrance to the drawing room, and beside it hung a painting of surpassing beauty.
    I recognized the artist as I drew nearer. Florencio. The National Gallery in Osfro also held one of his paintings, and I’d studied it many times. He was a Sirminican renowned for painting landscapes in his own country, and I was