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Sharif un-Nissa couldn't tell if she was shaking from the cold paint coating her body, or from the mixture of adrenaline and fear coursing through her body. The sculptor must have figured it was the former as he smiled apologetically at her with his following stroke on her arm.
"Almost done," he croaked out, and quickly slathered on some more white before brushing up on her face - her eyelashes, corners of her lips, bends and folds of her ears. Once he was sure he was done, he backed away and marveled at his new masterpiece, "Beautiful."
"Thank you. Thank you so much for all you help. I am deeply indebted to you." she murmured. Or at least tried to, as paint slipped in through her freshly painted lips. She was about to grab the small hand mirror that lay on the table beside her before thinking better of it. Her hands were also painted. He held it for her. There wasn't much of her that wasn't.
"No, my dear, I am indebted to you. We have to hurry. The sun is rising and His Highness is approaching the palace. We should get you into place." The two of them ran out the room, the sculptor surprisingly fast despite his old age. Sharif un-Nissa's feet kept slipping in her slippers as she ran, but she did well to keep pace. She tried keeping her eyes down as she sped through the palace, so as not to draw attention, but luckily no one was around. They were all too busy preparing for the arrival of their beloved prince.
Her mind spun as she thought about what she was about to do, about whether the sculptor's plan would work. She remembered the day he had approached her family, just over a week ago, wild eyes gleaming as he told her uncle about his plan. One of the Queen's handmaidens had approached him, asking for a statue for the Shehzadah's arrival, but not critiquing and criticising his other works for their lack of beauty and surplus of 'truth' as he liked to call it. She had seen some of his works, with him being a friend of her uncle, after all, and she was left in awe each time. She had been surprised and confused at the kaneez's expectations. But the sculptor was always one to deliver on his word. And his word had been that he would make a statue for the Prince that would "make every soldier lay down his sword, emperor lay down his crown, and men carve out their hearts in oblation."
Sharif un-Nissa was stunned at the confidence with which he had stated such heavy words, but froze even further when his sight fell upon her as he asked her of his wish. For her to be his statue. If his plan went according to how he saw it, she would end up as a kaneez in the palace, ensuring a bright future for both herself and her family. If it didn't, she would end up in the dungeons, or dead, on account of treachery and sneaking into the castle uninvited. Her future lay in her beauty. She wondered if it would be enough.
