Eona - Alison Goodman [90]
Yuso smiled, hard and grim. One by one, we all smiled back.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Momo said dryly.
It was good to have hot fish and rice in my belly and to be clean again, even if the bath had been rushed and the scrubbing delivered by a maid with the touch of a net-hauler. I pulled the still-damp drying cloth higher up on my chest and shifted on the hard wooden stool as Mama Momo and Moon Orchid examined me.
The young Blossom Woman reached across and pushed my wet hair behind my ear, then pursed her lips thoughtfully. I tried not to stare, but it was hard to resist the draw of her face. Madina had spoken of the four seats of beauty, and Moon Orchid had them all, in abundance. Thick, soft hair dressed high to accentuate her broad forehead; wide eyes with a hint of clever mischief in them; lips that called for a fingertip to trace their shape; and a long, smooth throat, all in a harmony of spirit that brought a pang to the heart.
“I don’t think she can be an Orchid,” Momo said. “Her face and voice would pass, but she moves like a delivery boy.” She glanced down at me. “No offense, my lady.”
I hitched up the drying cloth again and shrugged. Compared to Moon Orchid’s languorous grace, I did move like a boy.
Moon Orchid tilted her head. “It will have to be a Peony, and we will hope that she is not asked to play for them.” She eyed me for a moment. “I don’t suppose you have any skill with a lute?”
I shook my head.
Momo reached across and tilted my face, inspecting my jaw. “The Peony paint will also cover that bruise. We do not want the vultures to circle.” She touched Moon Orchid’s arm. “Will you begin? I’ll see to Vida.”
She crossed the room to where the resistance woman sat on her own stool. “You, my dear, will be a Safflower. But let me give you a few words of warning about . . .”
“I think Mama Momo is too harsh,” Moon Orchid whispered, diverting my attention. “You could pass as an Orchid.” She smiled and handed me a long strip of cloth. “Please pull your hair back, my lady, and we’ll get started.”
I wrapped the cloth around my head, tucking in the loose strands of hair.
“You should take off your pendant, too, or it may get paint on it.”
I lifted the leather thong over my head, pulling Kygo’s amulet from under the edge of the drying cloth. For a moment, Moon Orchid’s eyes fixed on the swinging gold ring. Her long throat convulsed in a hard swallow.
“Kygo’s—I mean, His Majesty’s blood ring,” she said. “Why do you have it? Is he all right?”
I pulled it back from her avid gaze. “He gave it to me,” I said.
How did she know it was Kygo’s ring? The obvious answer was like a slap across the face. We stared at each other, her beauty sending another pang through me, discordant and sour.
“Is he well?” she asked.
“He was this morning.” I closed my fingers around the ring.
Moon Orchid turned and pressed a brush into the white face paint, her smooth brow creased. Even a frown did not detract from her beauty. She took a deeper breath, withdrew the brush, and wiped the excess on the side of the pot. When she turned back to me, her face was once again serene. She placed the brush alongside my nose and gently stroked the cool paint onto my skin.
“The ring is very important to him,” she said. Her eyes flicked up from her task. “He must think highly of you.”
No doubt she saw my cheeks redden.
“It is to protect us on the mission,” I said.
“Yes, of course.” She smiled and charged the brush again. A small silence settled as she painted the other side of my face and my forehead in broad strokes.
I wet my lips. “How long have you known him?”
She looked up from under her long lashes. “I have not seen him since Her Majesty, the Empress Cela, walked the golden path to her ancestors.”
She had not answered my question, but something narroweyed within me was pleased that she had not seen him for a year.
Moon Orchid turned from the paint pot again. “He is a very handsome man.” Another long stroke ended at my chin. “Although his