Read Online Turning the Storm by Naomi Kritzer - Free Book Online Page B

I could see how it was done. “Your skin needs to look a little rougher, and you can use these to add a little shadow to your throat, like this.”
    Lia peered at me. “Michel, you did an excellent job. She really looks like a boy.”
    “You don't,” I said, blinking at Lia.
    “I have a girl's haircut and girl's clothing. You're dressed as a boy.” With Michel peering over my shoulder and advising me, I practiced putting the paints on myself until both Lia and Michel pronounced my efforts adequate.
    “Where did you get so good at this, anyway?” I asked Michel as we rolled the paints up in a cloth and shoved them deep into my pack.
    “Mascherata is my favorite festival,” Michel said. “I love disguises.”
    I bound my breasts, and Michel helped me add a little padding to my shoulders to make my build look more masculine. “Don't worry too much about the shoulders,” he said. “Lots of boys your age are skinny. Just make sure your breasts don't stick out too much.”
    Lia hunted down a calm pool of water where I could see my reflection, but I couldn't see myself well enough to be reassured. So the next time we passed through a village, she made me go in with Michel to ask for a meal. “Good practice.”
    We approached one of the larger outlying farms; we could smell fava beans and root vegetables cooking as we approached. I let Michel knock on the back door.“Good morning, signora,” he said to the woman who answered his knock. “We are traveling to Cuore. Would it be possible for us to purchase lunch from you?”
    The woman waved aside Michel's purse. “It may have been a hard year, but we're not so poor yet that we'll take money for hospitality. Come in and have a seat.”
    The woman's name was Celsa. I mumbled my alias as I sat down next to Michel, feeling deeply uncomfortable in my false identity.
    “Why are you going to Cuore?” Celsa asked as she started frying up wheat cakes.
    Michel poked me. “I've been attending the conservatory in Pluma,” I said, indicating my violin case.
What if she knows someone at the conservatory? This is a mad idea; we should head back to the wasteland now
. “I won a position in one of the ensembles at the Imperial Court.”
    “Good for you!” Celsa turned away from her cooking briefly to give me a friendly smile. “But
you
don't look like a musician,” she said to Michel. “Why are you traveling?”
    “To take care of my brother here,” Michel said, giving me a punch in the arm. “We're twins—hard to believe, isn't it? He got all the talent. I got the muscles.”
    A young woman about my age came in with a bucket of water, and poured some of it into a kettle to make tea. “This is Partena, my eldest daughter,” Celsa said. Partena brought us tea when it was ready, and sat down across from me.
    “So you're going to play at court?” she asked. “That must be exciting!”
    “I suppose it is,” I said. Something about the intensity of her smile was making me nervous.
    “I've always wanted just to see Cuore. Have you been there before?”
    “No,” I said. “I'm from Verdia. I was born in Mirago, and I went to the conservatory when I was twelve—and I graduated last week.”
    Partena laughed a little as if I was very amusing, and tossed her head so that her dark hair caught the sun that slanted through the open door. Her hair was very long, and she wore it unbraided. She had a very pretty face, I noticed.
    “They kept you separated from the girls there, didn't they?” Partena asked.
    I nodded. Michel leaned forward and said, “This is why I'm glad that
I'm
the one who got the muscles, instead of the talent!”
    Partena laughed again, but turned back to me a moment later. “Didn't you ever … break the rules?”
    “Partena,” Celsa said. “Set out bowls for the meal, please.”
    Partena stood up reluctantly and turned with a flounce that made her skirt swirl a little around her hips. She set the table and rang a bell to call in the rest of the