White and black, light and dark, ying and yang. The concept of perfect balance in two opposites created to fit perfectly together.
That's not how real life works at all, though. Alina Starkov may have been the sun summoner: young, inexperienced, na...
If anyone had told me beforehand how uncomfortable rouged lips were, I would have at least reconsidered my options, I thought as I stared concentratedly into the mirror- A wet cloth at my disposal to remove any residual smudges of the dark velvet rose.
My first attempt on painting my face at fourteen and I was already sure: I would not ever again submit myself to such inane torture unless absolutely necessary.
"Da, Madraya!" I shouted back when my lips finally looked passable, but I hardly dared moving them for fear of ruination.
"I still need to trace your eyes with that kohl, Mily. And this blue is lovely on you." Madraya complimented as she bid me to sit on the stool in front of her vanity.
"Close your eyes." Trying my best to ignore the wet tickling of the pen tracing along my eye lid, I focussed on Madrayas breathing pattern. It never failed to calm me.
"And now look up, Milaya. Just like that." If I hadn't trusted her as much as I did, I wouldn't have allowed her anywhere near my eyes with such a dangerous tool. Thankfully, I only needed to wear kohl and rouge for my lips. I simply refused to paint my whole face, even if the lack of colour in my cheeks made me look oddly like a corpse, albeit a beautiful one.
At one point, my mother halted her movements and the quiet weightened down on us.
"Moya Zyoma Koroleva." Madraya whispered with something akin to reverence. My moon queen.
And indeed. As I gazed at my reflexion I saw myself, but I looked like a porcelain doll dressed in the colours of the Lantsov family and painted to enhance my rounded, tiny, pale face.
I looked innocent.
The only reason I even dared to wear the Lantsov colours and dress to impress was that my mother held enough standing and was careful enough to shield me from direct contact with any powerful man- even the Tsar.
However, I needed to make a lasting impression on those I wished to talk to and I could not look common If I intended to achieve such a feat.
My gaze wandered over to Madraya, who was a vision of soft greens and gilded thread to enhance the equally dark gold of her heavy tresses. We both were not interested in wearing keftas for the event to come, lest we'd be ogled by the noble and wealthy as another attraction, but I was convinced we would be noticed anyways. And she complimented me?
Anyways, maybe I just wanted an excuse to actually wear something else but that dreadful combination of red and violet.
"You look beautiful too, Madraya." I said to her. She looked like a mythical being, a forest nymph, and the queen wouldn't be able to outshine her no matter how long the tailor girl worked for. Madraya glowed with the radiance of a Grisha and the warmth of a thousand suns.
I grew protective at the thought that she could easily attract the king to herself, but I had to believe that Madraya knew how to keep us both safe. She promised.
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