The Defiant
Chapter Twenty Four

Dinner came all too soon. I reluctantly climbed from the deliciously warm bathwater and dried off, then laced myself back into Rafaela’s torture device of a dress.

My hair was another problem. Eranian ladies wore their hair up in polite company, and Three had done my hair earlier. I had no experience with hairstyling.

Returning to the parlor, I sought out Three but found Seven instead, who sat in one of the chairs, reading a book she must have found in one of the rooms.

“Where’s Three?” I asked.

“Taking a nap. I was just about to wake her up. We’ll have to leave soon.”

“Can you do hair?”

“Yeah, I think so. I styled mine earlier,” she said, gesturing up to the mass of brunette curls that were pinned elegantly to her head.

“Perfect. Do you think you could do mine? I apparently have no skills. I can barely tie a ponytail.”

“Sure,” Seven said, laughing. She stood up and shook out her dress, then followed me into the Crimson room, where she retrieved a hairbrush and a handful of bone pins from the vanity drawer and started brushing my still-slightly-damp hair.

“I’m so not looking forward to this,” I sighed.

“Me neither. The Prime Minister is such a creep.”

“No kidding. Did you see how he was looking at Three?”

“Yeah. Super sleazy. And look how rich how he is. In that information Four gave us, it said most Cebosians live pretty much in poverty. So all the miners are starving in the streets, and Milonakis sits up here in his palace of a thousand rooms.”

“Doesn’t seem right. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about it. We have our own problems,” I said as Seven started pinning my hair up.

“That’s pretty much the understatement of the year,” Seven giggled. “Although, say what you will about the guy, he’s got good taste in art.”

“Well, what more can you ask for?” I laughed.

“Hey, One, you’ve got a birthmark,” Seven said, stopping in her pinning of my hair to run a cool finger across the nape of my neck. I shivered in response to her touch. “Looks like a star, or something.”

“Huh. I wonder if Eight’s got one,” I said thoughtfully, tracing the scar that ran from my temple to my chin.

“Probably. You guys are identical.”

“I don’t know. Do identical twins have the same birthmarks, and stuff? We clearly have very different personalities.” I sighed.

“What’s up?”

“It’s just—Whenever I try to talk to Eight, she just shuts me out. Is she very cold to you?”

“A bit. She’s a bit distant, sure, but that’s understandable, given our situation. I guess she’s just a reserved person.”

“I suppose. She never talks to me, though. It’s like she hates me.”

“How could she hate you? I mean, what’ve you done?”

“I don’t know. I would love to talk to her about it, but she avoids me.”

“Well, if you keep trying and she shuts you out, that’s not your fault. I think you should just wait for her to come to you. You’re done.”

“With wh—Oh, my hair.” I turned to regard myself in the vanity mirror. My hair was knotted into an intricate updo of braids and curls. “Thanks. That looks really cool. You’ll have to teach me how to do that sometime.”

“I’d love to.” She smiled at me. “Oh, wait.”

I waited as she rummaged through the vanity drawer, eventually withdrawing a small pot and a brush with a tiny ‘aha’ of triumph.

“For your scar,” she explained, unscrewing the pot and dipping the brush into it.

“Right.” That damned scar again.

Seven circled around so she stood in front of me and applied a careful line of makeup over my scar.

“Perfect. You can’t tell unless you’re looking for it. And, here,” she said, untucking a curl from my hair and letting it fall down my right cheek, to disguise the cosmetic work. She returned the makeup and brush to the drawer.

“Oi, Monique’ll be here to take us to dinner in a few minutes,” Two said, poking his head around the doorframe.

“Okay, we’re coming. Have you woken Three up yet?” I asked.

“Not yet, but I’m on it,” Two said, grinning evilly.

“Go do that.”

Once he was gone, Seven turned to me. “You know he’ll probably throw a pillow at her or something, right?”

“Oh, crap.” I lunged to my feet and out into the parlor, Seven’s laugh following me out.

Five minutes later, we were all assembled and ready to go, the ‘guards’ standing watch in the hallway like they’d been there the whole time. Three’s hair was still annoyingly perfect, despite having been slept on for an hour. She was still in a reasonably good mood, since I’d intervened in Two’s wake-up efforts before he succeeded in his plan, which had appeared to involve the water from a vase of roses.

Monique arrived shortly, now carrying a tablet and looking slightly harried.

“Your Highnesses, it is time for dinner. Please follow me to the dining room,” she said with a slight bow.

The five of us followed her out into the hallway, soon joined by the boys, who fell in behind us at an appropriate distance.

Monique led us down the endless hallways again. Through the windows, the sun had gone down, and only a little moonlight reflected off the obsidian, making the whole planet look like a roiling ocean of dark water.

We eventually came to a stop outside a door.

“Have an excellent meal. I will return to escort you back to your rooms later,” Monique said, then left.

We entered the dining room.