Mirror, Mirror

2.08 Bejeweled

Can I share a secret with you, my little ray? I never really liked singing. I know! That sounds crazy— I'm Princess Frosti, pop phenomenon.

I don't hate it. It was definitely fun at first. But, my first passion was writing.

When I was really young, I would write all kinds of stories, about talking cats and powerful princesses and magic. I guess writing was never as profitable as wearing sparkly dresses and singing to teens.

❖

Starla stepped into the ballroom with her cousins behind her. They'd originally wanted to go for something big, sparkly, and showy. Well, their outfits were at least sparkly and showy, but now they were tight fitting and rather racy since they only had so much material to use.

Starla felt like she was made of starlight. Her cousins looked good too. Heads turned as they made their way through the room. People whispered. Starla kept her chin up. She had a right to be here.

People seemed unsure how to interact with her. They would be polite and perfectly bland to her face, then whisper and exchange glances as soon as her back was turned. Conversations would quiet as she walked by. How quickly people turned on you when you were no longer of any use to them, in their eyes... They seemed shocked that she was there at all. As if she was supposed to have disappeared, just like that.

She quickly tired of the people and ignored them, making her way to the food table. She wanted the sweets. Poppy and Riv loyally followed her, glaring at anyone who looked like they might try to deny her presence there.

"These little cheeses are just delightful," Starla said, trying to hide her discomfort. She felt uneasy.

"They really are," Poppy agreed. "Hang on, hold still." She adjusted Starla's hair for her.

"Thanks P," Starla said gratefully.

Finally, it was time for Rayna to make her debut and walk down the stairs.

She really was beautiful in that shimmering white and silver gown that only a few years ago Starla had worn at her own debutante ball. She even managed to wobble down the stairs in those glass heels without falling, just like she'd practiced. Starla felt oddly proud.

And yet Rayna didn't look the least bit happy. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth a flat line. It was like she was trapped inside a skin that wasn't hers. Starla's gut clenched knowing her beloved life was given to someone who didn't seem to want it in the first place.

"Fake," a woman in a green dress mouthed at Starla as she passed by. Starla ignored her.

"Imposter," someone whispered from behind her. She froze, refusing to give whoever it was the satisfaction of startling her. For a brief few seconds, she thought whoever had said that had gone, or maybe she'd imagined it.

"I'm talking to you," the voice said again. Starla crossed her arms and turned around, slowly. It was a drunk man. "Why are you here? You're not the real princess."

"Ah, Lord Felynx," Starla said brightly. "So good to see you again. I would ask about your wife, but I know you aren't on speaking terms since she kicked you out again. After all, you have a rather unfortunate habit of paying a little too much attention to young women instead of minding your own business. Isn't that right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lord Felynx muttered, conscious of people turning to listen in on their conversation.

"Does a certain Miss Moonan jog your memory? I overheard her sharing some rather interesting details about you in painting class. You see, we were doing still life paintings of fruits, and I thought I overheard her say the example painting bore a striking resemblance to your—"