Chapter Ten- That of Poison and Roses

Ten

Ten

Ugly.

Ugly.

Ugly.

I can't help but see it when I look at myself in the mirror the next morning. My eyes are puffy from a night of soaking my satin pillows in tears. Dark circles under my eyes paired with the sheets balled up at the foot of the bed attest to just how poorly the night had gone. My mind is ablaze with everything and nothing all at once, yet my face is frozen in a state of numb grief.

People can't see me like this.

Not only will my mother throw a fit, but I can't fathom the idea of greeting the Aldridges looking like this. Yes, they're grieving too, but royals are supposed to grieve differently than everyone else. Shed a few simple tears, so the people think you are emotional, but don't cry enough to ruin your makeup. Look sad, but also look strong, so the people don't worry.

Do anything and everything to make them trust us. 

A small letter slipped under my door informs me that I'm expected for breakfast in an hour. 

I have one hour to hide the real Aily, one hour to doll myself up for my family's name.

Knowing I'm alone, I hum softly under my breath to compose myself. The familiar melody follows me as I slip into a "casual dress" that's anything but casual: olive green with a corset bodice and a short, lacy skirt. I stop humming for only a moment to suck in my stomach, tying the bodice tighter than should ever be acceptable. This life of royalty is a game, and to get people to trust me, I must only present cards of fragile elegance. 

I tie my short brown hair into a bun at the base of my neck, praying that no frizz or unkept strands are visible. Double checking my appearance, I lock eyes with the makeup-covered face in the mirror. Concealer paired with foundation cover up any remnants of dark circles and the beginnings of acne. Heavy blush flings across her cheeks and mascara frames her deep brown eyes. 

She is so familiar, but she is not me. 

I follow my dress in the full-length mirror, and decide that the bodice needs to be tightened just a bit more. 

Just on time, I walk out the door, slipping on a pair of nude-colored sandals. I travel down to a different dining room than yesterday, but just as fancy. It seems improper to eat breakfast in the same place the kings died.

A smile is plastered across my face as I sit down in the wood chair, a small place card labeling that I am, in fact, meant to be here. 

I still feel ugly inside, after all this.

But hopefully I don't look so ugly, on the outside.