* * *
The preparations began the next morning in a whirl of fittings and lessons. Nina still wasn’t sure this was the right choice, but if she was honest with herself, the chaos of readying for Heartwood was shockingly, horrifyingly … fun. She was distressed at how easy it was to get lost in the business of new gowns for Hanne, new shoes, dancing lessons, and discussions of the people they would meet at Maidenswalk, the first event of Jerjanik, where all the hopeful young ladies would be presented to the royal family.
Some part of Nina had missed frivolity. There had been too much sadness in the last two years—her struggle to free herself from addiction, losing Matthias, the long, lonely months in Ravka trying to cope with her grief, and then the constant fear of living among her enemies. Sometimes she wondered if she’d made a mistake leaving her friends in Ketterdam. She missed Inej’s stillness, the knowledge that she could say anything to her without fear of recrimination. She missed Jesper’s laughing ways and Wylan’s sweetness. She even missed Kaz’s ruthlessness. Saints, it would have been a relief to hand over this whole mess to the bastard of the Barrel. He’d have sussed out Vadik Demidov’s origins, raided the Fjerdan treasury, and placed himself on the throne in the time it took Nina to braid her hair. On second thought, probably best Kaz wasn’t here.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Hanne asked, as she sat at their shared dressing table while Nina applied sweet almond oil to curl the short strands of her hair, red and gold and brown. A color she could never quite name.
“If I am?”
“I guess I’m jealous. I wish I could.”
Nina tried to meet her eyes in the mirror, but Hanne kept her gaze trained on the array of powders and potions on the table. “This was your idea, remember?”
“Yes, but I forgot how much I hate all of it.”
“What’s to hate?” Nina asked. “Silk, velvet, jewels.”
“Easy for you to say. I feel even more wrong than usual.”
Nina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wiped her hands clean of oil and sat down on the bench. “You’re not an awkward little girl anymore, Hanne. Why can’t you see how gorgeous you are?”
Hanne picked up one of the little jars of shimmer. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.” Nina plucked the jar from her fingers and turned Hanne toward her. “Close your eyes.” Hanne obeyed and Nina dotted the cream onto her lids, then her cheekbones. It had a subtle, pearlescent sheen that made it look like Hanne had been dusted in sunlight.
“Do you know the only time I felt beautiful?” Hanne asked, her eyes still closed.
“When?”
“When I tailored myself to look like a soldier. When we cut off all my hair.”
Nina exchanged the shimmer for a pot of rose balm. “But you didn’t look like you.”
Hanne’s eyes opened. “But I did. For the first time. The only time.”
Nina dipped her thumb into the pot of balm and dabbed it onto Hanne’s lower lip, spreading it in a slow sweep across the soft cushion of her mouth.
“I can grow my hair, you know,” Hanne said, and moved her hand over one side of her scalp. Sure enough, a reddish-brown curl twined over Hanne’s ear.
Nina stared. “That’s powerful tailoring, Hanne.”
“I’ve been practicing.” She drew a small scissors from a drawer and snipped away the curl. “But I like it the way it is.”
“Then leave it.” Nina took the scissors from her hand, brushed her thumb over Hanne’s knuckles. “In trousers. In gowns. With your hair shorn or in braids or down your back. You have never not been beautiful.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I do.”
“I’ve never seen your real face,” Hanne said, eyes scanning Nina’s features. “Do you miss it?”
Nina wasn’t sure how to answer. For a long while she’d startled every time she glimpsed herself in the mirror, when she caught sight of the pale blue eyes, the silky fall of straight blond hair. But the longer she played Mila, the easier it became, and sometimes that scared her. Who will I be when I return to Ravka? Who am I now?
“I’m beginning to forget what I looked like,” she said. “But trust me, I was gorgeous.”
Hanne took her hand. “You still are.”
The door flew open and Ylva bustled in, trailed by maids, their arms full of dresses.
Hanne and Nina leapt up from the bench, watching the maids heap piles of silk and tulle onto the bed.