The Impostor Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

covered my face, neck, and chest with the pure white paint, she uses her tiny brush to slick the bloodred stain over my lips. Next she dusts copper powder over my eyelids and temples, holding the thick paper pattern against my skin to get the dots and swirls just right. While she does, I think of copper, and how it defines us, and how I always assumed it was as infinite as the Valtia’s magic . . . until today.
    â€œYou are a living treasure,” Mim says, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you ready to be dressed?”
    I blink twice so I don’t crack my shell. Mim pats my arm, and for a moment I see sadness in her eyes, or maybe pity.
    Wishing I could ask her what’s wrong, I rise carefully and step behind a screen on the other side of the room. Mim strips off my underskirt and stockings, then rubs my body with rose oil. Like always, she carefully avoids touching my red flame mark, as if she’s afraid it will burn her. But though it might look like a flame, in all the years I’ve borne it on my skin, it’s been nothing but a swirling patch of nothingness. I wonder if that will change when the magic is awakened inside me. Perhaps then my mark will burn with the thundering power of the ice and fire magic in my body. I’ll have to ask the Valtia about it tonight.
    Mim gently rolls new bloodred stockings onto my feet, pulling them all the way up to my thighs. I suppress another shiver as her fingertips slide over my skin, and I cannot help my twinge of disappointment when her touch disappears. She wraps the flowing, gauzy underdress around my waist and lets it fall in waves to my ankles. Her deft fingers lace and tie the corset so tightly that I can barely breathe, but I would never tell her of my discomfort. She’ll be judged by the priests if I’m not flawless.
    While the Valtia is led to her awaiting ceremonial paarit, much larger than the sedan chair in which she travels around the temple, Mim ushers my other maidservants inside. The Saadella’s gown is made from loom-woven wool dyed a deep red with madder root and calf’s blood. Copper threads make it sparkle. Mim holds my waist as I step into it, and the attendants pull the sleeves up to my arms and fasten the gown to the corset. This dress weighs a stone at least and is so stiff that if I fainted dead away, it would probably still hold me up.
    A little maid who can’t be older than twelve comes forward with my slippers on a special cushion. Her hands tremble as she lays them at my feet. I glance at my reflection in a metal plate on the wall, to see what she sees. I am snow white, bloodred, and copper glory. When I stand by the Valtia, everyone will know I belong there.
    Mim presses the copper circlet onto my head. Studded with polished agates pulled from the shores of the Motherlake, it’s a solid weight on my skull. With that done, I’m led to the corridor, where my own paarit awaits. Impassive and expressionless, I walk slowly to it and take my seat on the chair that’s bolted to the platform. It’s adorned with intricate carvings of wolves descending from the stars to lay waste to the enemies of the Kupari, meant to symbolize the Valtia’s magic.
    As soon as I’m settled, the bearers are called. They stride from the side hallways, looking fine in their scarlet tunics and hats. Each year, the priests choose eight of the strongest young men in the city to have the honor of carrying the Valtia and the Saadella on harvest day. The four chosen for my paarit bow to me one by one, then take up their positions at each corner. Their muscles strain beneath their uniforms as they lift me from the ground and set the ends of the horizontal poles on their shoulders. One of them, a boy with warm brown eyes and golden hair, gives me a curious sidelong glance. His cheeks turn red when he realizes I’ve caught him looking.
    For a moment, I recall Mim’s pity and think perhaps I understand it