Beauty by Nancy Ohlin

Author:Nancy Ohlin [Ohlin, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2010-05-11T00:00:00+00:00

15

“SO … YOU’RE A PRINCESS,” GEMMA SAID.

Ana glanced up from her canvas, the painting of the apple she had been working on. It didn’t look like an apple, exactly, but more like a small animal: green and dented with black spots like eyes, hovering in a shadowy corner as though preparing to attack.

Gemma and Giselda had set up their easels next to Ana. The other students were spread around the vast, airy art studio. The sisters were as Pell had described them, with long, flowing red hair and sharp, aquiline noses. The quality of their beauty—regal, elegant, cold—reminded Ana of her mother.

Pell was across the studio in an isolated spot, taking advantage of some special angle or some fleeting state of sunlight. Ana wished suddenly that she were not so far away.

Giselda looked up from her painting, which was a perfect imitation of the large, shiny red apple that Andreas had set out on the center table. “Should we call you ‘Your Excellency’ or something?” she said, smiling pleasantly at Ana.

“No, ‘Ana’ is fine.”

“So, Ana!” Gemma exclaimed, dabbing purplish-red paint onto her canvas. “It must be so amazing to be a princess. You must have dozens of maids and ladies-in-waiting at the palace. Do they take care of you and dress you and brush your hair every morning?”

“That must be so wonderful!” Giselda cried out. “Can you imagine, Gem?”

Ana added another black spot to her apple. Now it had three eyes. “When I was younger. Not anymore. And it wasn’t dozens.”

“You must have so many lovely, fancy dresses at the palace,” Gemma went on. “And sapphires and diamonds and other jewels too.”

“Not really.”

Giselda leaned over and regarded Ana with a worried expression. “We sort of noticed that you don’t exactly look like a princess,” she whispered. “To tell you the truth, we figured that you were in disguise. You know, like you didn’t want anyone to know you were the queen’s daughter.”

“Yes, we came up with a theory,” Gemma said, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “Your mother is forcing you to conceal your true appearance, to keep you safe from danger. After all, she must have enemies everywhere. Maybe even here, at the Academy.”

Giselda nodded. “Your mother must love you very much.”

“Except—isn’t there some other disguise she could have given you?” Gemma said. “It must be so tedious to have to look like that every day.”

“Gem!” Giselda cried out.

Ana narrowed her eyes at Gemma. Pell was right; Gemma was the more evil of the two sisters.

“It’s actually very liberating,” Ana replied after a moment. “I would think it would be more tedious to have to look like you every day.”

Gemma started. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you look like when you wake up in the morning?” Ana pointed out. “Your hair is tangled and disheveled, right? As though wrens could make a nest in it? How long do you have to spend brushing it so that it is neat and smooth again? And what about your skin,

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