Leigh Bardugo - Shadow and Bone

Once I adjusted to it, the heat of the water felt good on my aching body. I hadn’t had a hot bath in well over a year, and I had never even dreamed that there might be such a tub. Clearly, being Grisha had its benefits. I could have spent an hour just paddling around. But once I had been thoroughly dunked and scrubbed, a servant yanked my arm and ordered, “Out! Out!”

Reluctantly, I climbed from the tub, letting the women dry me roughly with thick towels. One of the younger servants stepped forward with a heavy velvet robe and led me into the bedroom. Then she and the others backed out the door, leaving me alone with Genya.

I watched the redhead warily. She had thrown open the curtains and pulled an elaborately carved wooden table and chair over by the windows.

“Sit,” she commanded. I bridled at her tone, but I obeyed.

A small trunk lay open by her hand, its contents spread out on the tabletop: squat glass jars full of what looked like berries, leaves, and colored powders. I didn’t have a chance to investigate further, because Genya took hold of my chin, peering closely at my face and turning my bruised cheek toward the light from the window. She took a breath and let her fingers travel over my skin. I felt the same prickling sensation I’d experienced when the Healer took care of my wounds from the Fold.

Long minutes passed as I clenched my hands into fists to keep from scratching. Then Genya stepped back and the itching receded. She handed me a small golden hand mirror. The bruise was completely gone. I pressed the skin tentatively, but there was no soreness.

“Thank you,” I said, setting the mirror down and starting to stand. But Genya pushed me right back down into the chair.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done.”

“But—”

“If the Darkling just wanted you healed, he would have sent a Healer.”

“You’re not a Healer?”

“I’m not wearing red, am I?” Genya retorted, an edge of bitterness to her voice. She gestured to herself. “I’m a Tailor.”

I was baffled. I realized I’d never seen a Grisha in a white kefta . “You’re going to make me a dress?”

Genya blew out an exasperated breath. “Not the robes! This ,” she said, waving her long, graceful fingers before her face. “You don’t think I was born looking like this, do you?”

I stared at the smooth marble perfection of Genya’s features as realization set in and, with it, a wave of indignation. “You want to change my face?”

“Not change it. Just… freshen you up a bit.”

I scowled. I knew what I looked like. In fact, I was acutely aware of my shortcomings. But I really didn’t need a gorgeous Grisha pointing them out to me. And worse was the fact that the Darkling had sent her to do it.

“Forget it,” I said, jumping to my feet. “If the Darkling doesn’t like the way I look, that’s his problem.”

“Do you like the way you look?” Genya asked with what seemed to be genuine curiosity.

“Not particularly,” I snapped. “But my life has gotten confusing enough without seeing a stranger’s face in the mirror.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Genya said. “I can’t make big changes, just small ones. Even out your skin. Do something with that mousy hair of yours. I’ve perfected myself, but I’ve had my whole life to do it.”

I wanted to argue, but she actually was perfect. “Get out.”

Genya cocked her head to one side, studying me. “Why are you taking this so personally?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I have no idea. I’ve always been beautiful.”

“And humble too?”

She shrugged. “So I’m beautiful. That doesn’t mean much among Grisha. The Darkling doesn’t care what you look like, just what you can do.”

“Then why did he send you?”

“Because the King loves beauty and the Darkling knows that. In the King’s court, appearances are everything. If you’re to be the salvation of all of Ravka… well, it would be better if you looked the part.”

I crossed my arms and looked out the window. Outside, the sun was shining off a small lake, a tiny island at its center. I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d slept.

Genya walked over to me. “You’re not ugly, you know.”

“Thanks,” I said drily, still staring out at the wooded grounds.

“You just look a little…”

“Tired? Sickly? Skinny?”

“Well,” Genya said reasonably, “you said yourself, you’ve been traveling hard for days and—”

I sighed. “This is how I always look.” I rested my head on the cool glass, feeling the anger and embarrassment drain out of me. What was I fighting for? If I was honest with myself, the prospect of what Genya was offering was tempting. “Fine,” I said. “Do it.”

“Thank you!” exclaimed Genya, clapping her hands together. I looked at her sharply, but there was no sarcasm in her voice or expression. She’s relieved , I realized. The Darkling had set Genya a task, and I wondered what might have happened to her if I’d refused. I let her lead me back to the chair.

“Just don’t get carried away,” I said.

“Don’t worry,” said the redhead. “You’ll still look like yourself, just like you’ve had more than a few hours of sleep. I’m very good.”

“I can see that,” I said. I closed my eyes.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You can watch.” She handed me the gold mirror. “But no more talk. And stay still.”

I held up the mirror and watched as Genya’s cool fingertips descended slowly over my forehead. My skin prickled, and I watched with growing amazement as Genya’s hands traveled over my skin. Every blemish, every scrape, every flaw seemed to disappear beneath her fingers. She placed her thumbs beneath my eyes.

“Oh!” I exclaimed in surprise as the dark circles that had plagued me since childhood disappeared.

“Don’t get too excited,” Genya said. “It’s temporary.” She reached for one of the roses on the table and plucked a pale pink petal. She held it up to my cheek, and the color bled from the petal onto my skin, leaving what looked like a pretty flush. Then she held a fresh petal to my lips and repeated the process. “It only lasts a few days,” she informed me. “Now the hair.”

She plucked a long comb made of bone from her trunk along with a glass jar full of something shiny.

Stunned, I asked, “Is that real gold?”

“Of course,” Genya said, lifting a chunk of my dull brown hair. She shook some of the gold leaf onto the crown of my head and, as she pulled the comb through my hair, the gold seemed to dissolve into shimmering strands. As Genya finished with each section, she wound it around her fingers, letting the hair fall in waves.

Finally she stepped back, wearing a smug smile. “Better, no?”

I examined myself in the mirror. My hair shone. My cheeks held a rosy flush. I still wasn’t pretty, but I couldn’t deny the improvement. I wondered what Mal would think if he saw me, then shoved the thought away. “Better,” I agreed grudgingly.

Genya gave a plaintive sigh. “It’s really the best I can do for now.”

“Thanks,” I said tartly, but then Genya winked at me and smiled.

“Besides,” she said, “you don’t want to attract too much attention from the King.” Her voice was light, but I saw a shadow pass over her features as she strode across the room and opened the door to let the servants rush back in.

They pushed me behind an ebony screen inlaid with mother-of-pearl stars so that it resembled a night sky. In a few moments, I was dressed in a clean tunic and trousers, soft leather boots, and a gray coat. With disappointment, I realized it was just a clean version of my army uniform. There was even a little cartographer’s patch showing a compass rose on the right sleeve. My feelings must have shown on my face.