“Hmm,” Axelina hums, circling me like I’m livestock at a market. She tilts my chin up with two fingers, turning my face from side to side. “Well, the sun damage is extensive, but that’s to be expected from someone who grew up in Troona. At least I can tell you didn’t spend much time in those cactus fields.”
“How can you tell that?” I ask, frowning slightly.
“Your skin, dear. It’s very weathered, but I can tell you weren’t in the sun all the time, which is a good thing,” she answers.“But those saltwater baths certainly didn’t help things. I’m sure you’ve never moisturized, have you?”
“I don’t know what that means,” I admit.
“Of course you don’t. Why would anyone ever make my job easier?” she sighs, making a note on a small tablet lying on her cart. “Well, we’ll start with a deep exfoliation, then a hydrating mask. That should help some with your complexion. It’ll at least give me a better canvas to work with, but once I’m done, I’m sure you’ll fetch a high price at the auction.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
She leans closer, peering at my face. “We’ll need a heavy concealer for your eyes. Your lips are quite chapped, so we’ll do a scrub and apply a conditioning treatment before the lipstick. Can’t have it peeling off while you’re on the stage.” She moves to my hair, running her fingers through it and clicking her tongue in a disapproving sound. “When was the last time you washed this?”
“Yesterday when I arrived,” I say, surprised it’s so unpresentable since it looks better than it has in years, even after sleeping without a ponytail all night. “I took a shower and used the shampoo and conditioner. First time for all three.”
“It’s still very coarse. And brittle. All this exposure to salt and sun,” she tuts. “We’ll need to do a deep conditioning treatment, then we’ll add some highlights to brighten it up. It’ll make you look more alive.”
“I don’t know if I want to change my hair color,” I say apprehensively.
“Not change, just accentuate, dear,” she says in a cheerful tone that doesn’t quite match her words. “We want you to look your absolute best, don’t we? The better you look, the more bids you’ll get. That means more money for your family back home.”
I swallow hard. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. That’s what this is all about, even if I don’t like how she’s talking about me like I’m a project that needs fixing.
“Now, let me see your hands,” she continues, and I reluctantly hold them out. She lets out an immediate gasp. The sound is way too dramatic for something as meaningless as the condition of my nails. “Oh my. Those will need a lot of work. I’ll file them down and shape them properly. A nice manicure will do wonders. Then a soft pink polish, I think. Nothing too bold. Need you looking innocent and fresh,” she explains, still examining my hands like they’re foreign objects she doesn’t want to actually touch. “And your cuticles are a disaster, but we’ll get them sorted out.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I say, squeezing my hands shut.
She takes a step back, looking me over from head to toe. “Stand up for a moment, dear.”
I stand, and she circles me again, making more notes on her tablet.
“You’re quite thin,” she observes. “But that’s common in the outer settlements like Troona. Not much to work with but with the right dress, we can create a nice illusion. Maybe a corset for your waist. Something that won’t be too difficult for your buyer to remove later.”
The casual way she mentions it makes my blood run cold. Like it’s a foregone conclusion that whoever I’m sold to will beundressing me. So quickly that what I wear when I walk across the stage shouldn’t interfere with their convenient access.
“Okay, I’ve got all I need. I’ll be back later to help you get ready for the auction,” she says cheerfully.
“It’s tonight, right?” I ask.
“Yes, early tonight,” she says. “Less than nine hours from now, so you’ve got a very busy day ahead of you.”
I don’t get a chance to ask what else I should expect before she leaves, but it doesn’t take long for me to find out. A doctor arrives who checks my vitals and draws blood but doesn’t explain why. A man shows up with a tablet and orders me to take an aptitude test. I’m not even sure what an aptitude test is, but I take it anyway. I don’t get a grade or a score that tells me if I passed or failed. Once I’m finished, he collects the tablet and leaves.
Lunch arrives, but I’m still full after breakfast, and so nervous about the auction, I don’t eat anything. More wasted food. More than my family would normally eat in a week, likely tossed in the trash as soon as it’s wheeled out of my suite.
I try to keep track of time, but there’s no clock. Not on the walls. Not on the Concord Assistant. Not even on any of the television stations. I’m not sure how they tell time here, but clearly, they don’t think I need to keep up with it. In Troona, we track time with the sun. I can’t even do that here, because it disappears out of sight shortly after midday. I should have paid closer attention when my father was explaining how to track time with shadows.
Eventually, Axelina returns, bringing several assistants with her. One of them is carrying a dress draped across her arms like she’safraid it will break if she isn’t careful. After spending at least four hours doing my hair, makeup, nails, I finally get to see it.
“Wow,” I say as Axelina’s assistant holds it up.
“Corset first, then the dress,” Axelina says, snapping her fingers at one of her assistants.
I suffer through them stuffing me into a corset, then they help me put on my dress.
It could be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The fabric is a deep emerald green that seems to shift in the light, catching hints of gold and blue, depending on the angle. It’s made out of silk, which is a lot different from the rough cotton and scratchy burlap I’m used to wearing. The bodice is fitted with delicate beading that creates an intricate pattern of vines and leaves, each tiny bead catching the light like a dewdrop. The neckline is modest, but elegant, designed to sit just off my shoulders.
The skirt flows from the waist in layers of fabric that look like they floats with every step. It’s not overly full like some of the ball gowns I’ve seen in old books, but it has enough volume to make me feel like something out of a fairy tale.
