Anaisa balked at the extreme lengths everyone was going to for the sake of her appearance. Some sort of mud was plastered on her skin, fancy oils massaged into her hair, all followed by a rose-scented bath.
That, at least, she did enjoy, but it was far shorter than she wanted it to be.
Why make such a lovely, hot, wonderful smelling bath if no one was going to linger in its luxurious waters? It was a terrible shame.
"No one's fed me today," She whined to Trace when he briefly appeared between the comings and goings of various beauty professionals. Her nails were painted. Fine jewelry was brought from the treasury to match her gown for the evening. Her feet were massaged and then bound in strips of fabric to ensure they would fit into the delicate shoes that would be brought up later.
Could the palace not afford to buy shoes that actually fit well, or were tiny feet such an important marker of beauty that they thought this was necessary?
