Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,63

were inlaid with enormous pink tourmalines. Golden chests of all different shapes and sizes were stacked neatly around the table, along with two floor-length mirrors, which gave Sophie a rather pitiful glimpse of her now greatly disheveled appearance.

Her hair had morphed into a tangle-monster, and the smoky powder she’d brushed across her eyelids had gooped up in the corners.

“This is one of the readying rooms in the Seat of Eminence,” Oralie told her, removing the pins from her bun and letting her long blond ringlets fall free. “To ensure that we’re always able to present ourselves at our best. The rest of your friends are in four of the other rooms. There are twelve in all—one for each of us on the Council. I doubt it surprises you that this is mine.”

“Are you sure?” Sophie teased. “This place really feels like Bronte to me.”

Bronte snorted. “Mine has an empty mahogany table and a sturdy chair.”

“It’s one of the bleakest places I’ve ever been,” Oralie noted, shaking her head. “Hence why we decided it would be better to leap you here.”

“But I don’t understand,” Sophie admitted, remembering what Grady had told her earlier. “I thought the Seat of Eminence was designed to block light from coming into the building.”

“It is,” Bronte agreed. “But as Councillors, we have secret access points, in case we need to make a private visit or a hasty exit.”

“And don’t worry—you’re perfectly safe here,” Oralie assured her. “This room is protected by an abundance of security measures.”

“We also won’t be here long,” Bronte added. “I can only handle so much pink.”

“You’ll tough it out as long as you have to,” Oralie informed him. “Sophie needs to look her best when she returns as a Regent.”

She pulled out the dressing table’s chair and motioned for Sophie to sit.

“Uh… please tell me you’re not giving me a makeover,” Sophie mumbled.

The number of pots and vials and brushes and powder puffs on the dressing table was downright terrifying. And they’d already lost enough time.

“It’ll be painless,” Oralie promised.

“Somehow I doubt that will be the case—for both Sophie and myself,” Bronte muttered.

Sophie had never felt such a strong bond with the pointy-eared Councillor in all her life.

Oralie clicked her tongue at both of them and patted the chair’s cushion—which was, of course, pink—and Sophie realized there was no way she was getting out of there without a little primping.

So… time for a makeover.

From a Councillor.

Definitely the Weirdest. Day. Ever.

“Nothing too sparkly,” she begged as she slumped into the chair, and Oralie spun her around and crouched in front of her.

“I’ll stay true to who you are,” Oralie promised, tilting Sophie’s chin from side to side, studying each of her features for what felt like an eternity. Sophie had to start counting the passing seconds to stop herself from squirming.

She made it to seventy-three before a pucker formed between Oralie’s perfect eyebrows. “Is something wrong?” Sophie asked, since forehead puckers were rarely good news.

Oralie shook her head. “Of course not! You just look so…”

“So…?” Sophie prompted.

“It’s hard to explain. You’ve changed since the first day I met you. You’re… not a little girl anymore. Which is how it’s supposed to be. I just wish…” Oralie bit her lip and looked away. “Never mind. We should get started.” She straightened up and grabbed a silky cloth from the table, spritzing it with something that smelled like jasmine. “I know you and your friends are eager to get to work.”

“Are Dex, Biana, Stina, and Wylie getting makeovers too?” Sophie asked, hoping Dex would show up with his hair dyed black and styled all shaggy—because Emo Dex would be hilarious—and that Stina would end up with giant hair-sprayed bangs.

“I doubt it,” Bronte told her, killing her dreams. “So you need to hurry, Oralie.”

“I’ll do my best. But this is important. Sophie’s the leader. She needs to look the part. Especially for her big debut.”

Sophie frowned. “I thought you guys hadn’t decided when you’d be announcing our appointments.”

“We haven’t.” Oralie wiped Sophie’s eyes with the cloth she’d prepared, then set to work brushing out Sophie’s tangles. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t start building buzz. We’re going to have you and your friends and family leap home from outside the Seat of Eminence. That way people will see you in your finery and wonder what’s going on. Should get the rumors and gossip spreading.”

“Oh. Great.”

Bronte barked a laugh. “I think you and I understand each other far better than we realized, Miss Foster. But try to