What is Hidden (12 page)

The most striking thing was his mask, though not for the reasons I would have expected. Of course a master mask maker would have an elaborate and ornate mask, but most would not have one with the eye holes still blacked in.

Yet his was. The mask was otherwise perfect: green for artisan, silver for royal service, and white for mastery. Simple, given his stature, but intricately beaded and designed with a perfect fit.

Cutting the eyeholes wasn’t a matter of difficulty; I spent many hours of my own apprenticeship slaving over them, making sure each was perfectly symmetrical and the precise shape I wanted. Most makers blacked out the unwanted material with paint before cutting, to be sure of exact results. But Milo, for some reason, simply blacked his out and moved on to another part of the mask.

As I watched, his hands continued to work, twisting a tight braid of blue ribbons while he waited for me to speak, and I realized with a shock that Master Milo was blind.

A blind mask maker? I’d never heard of such a thing. How could he design without his sight? How could he construct such perfect creations? I’d seen and admired his work every time I saw the royal family. How did he even come by the position of royal mask maker?

“Lady?” He interrupted the flurry of questions fluttering around in my mind with a gruff voice, and I shook my head, telling myself to pay attention.

“Master Milo, I’ve been reassigned to work for you. My name is Evelina.” Nerves tied my tongue into knots. Where was the ease I had when working with merchants at the Market?

“Hmm. Yes, I heard I was getting another one. Someone must be pleased with me; you’re the second one this month.” A quick glance around the workroom showed that each station was occupied, sometimes by two young people.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. My mind was still distracted and transfixed by how deftly his hands worked even while he spoke with me. I suddenly felt extremely inadequate. “I’ve admired what work of yours I’ve seen,” I said without thinking.

“I’ve admired work I haven’t seen,” he said shortly, and I flinched, rebuking myself for my faux pas.

“Well, lass, tell me what you can do. Why did they send you to me?”

I straightened my shoulders, determined to salvage this meeting somehow. “I’ve finished my apprenticeship under
Master Pietro in the Green District. I’ve worked alongside him after my completion.”

“How old are you?” He spoke directly, and there was no doubt who he was questioning, though his face turned back to his work.

“Eighteen, sir. As of this last spring.”

“Only half a year out of apprenticeship.”

My heart clenched. Would he turn me away? Even after whatever Aiden had done to get me here? “Yes, sir.”

“I do not know your former master. What are your specialties?”

“He was a carver, sir. He could do beautiful things with a knife. I could not hope to match his skill, so I focused on beadwork, trimmings, and fittings.”

“I want you to make a mask for me,” he announced, reaching for clear glass beads that he wove into the braids. “I want a measure of exactly what you can and cannot do. It should be a mask fit for a formal occasion, though not so elaborate as a ball. You may use any supplies you find that are not already claimed. And do be sure they are unclaimed. You’ll find the makers here are very . . . protective of what has been given to them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t get too carried away thinking you’ll impress me with flashy dyes or crystals.” He grinned wryly. “You’ll find I’m not persuaded by such things. I want craftsmanship.”

My cheeks felt hot. “Of course, sir.”

“Any questions?”

“Yes, sir. Whom shall I fit the mask for?”

“Yourself. And I will be checking the fit carefully, so
don’t get lazy.” He tied his work off with a tight knot, and I was envious to see how clean his work was.

Someday, I vowed to myself, I wouldn’t need to see my work to know it was perfect either.

“Emma,” he called lazily, turning in his stool. “Show this miss to a station and give her the tour. She’ll be making her mask for me. You know what I want.”

“Yes, sir.” She appeared by my side and, with a rustle of skirt, swept a quick curtsy. I realized that even though Milo couldn’t see me, he could of course hear, and I hastily curtsied as well, glad he couldn’t see my poor form.

Emma showed me to a small desk nearly in a corner that was to be my workstation. The desks lined the workroom, covered in various odds and ends and masks at various stages of completion. Men and women of varying ages scurried about the room, most close to my age, though some were close to Milo’s.

The desk next to mine was occupied by a black-haired young man who appeared to be working on figures and lists, not a mask. He wore a green and silver mask that covered nearly his entire face, save his mouth.

“That’s Joch,” Emma whispered as we walked back out to where the materials were kept. Looking back, I recognized him—or the back of his head—from when Iniga had led me through the halls a lifetime ago. “He’s only just got here. Usually he works in his own workshop, but sometimes he comes in here. He’s the famous glassmaker from Saran the palace has been abuzz about lately. Milo has tried to get him to teach a few other people in here, but no one’s willing to work with him for very long.”

I gave her a sharp look. “Why not?”

She snorted. “He’s extremely anti-social. He may be good looking and skilled, but he’s a terror to work with. So I’ve heard. I haven’t had a go at him yet. From what I’ve seen when he’s in here, he keeps to himself and doesn’t bother anyone, and he gives the nobles shiny new toys to fawn over.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “I swear, they’re letting anyone in here nowadays.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked curiously.

“I was born and raised here,” she said proudly. “My parents work here too. My ma’s in the laundry and my pa’s in the stables. My grandparents lived here too, and their grandparents. Used to be you lived and died here, but so many servants are sent to other households lately that hardly no one’s left. So you get kids like Joch with no history,” she scoffed.

I listened warily. Her age was difficult to guess; her way of speaking was at odds with what she was saying and how she acted. Her mannerisms showed youth, roughly the same age as me, but she sounded like an old woman obsessed with tradition and what was proper.

After she showed me everything, she left me alone at my desk to work. Joch nodded sullenly in my direction when I greeted him, not bothering to raise his almond-shaped eyes to meet mine, and said nothing.

Fine then. If he wasn’t going to pay any mind to me, I wouldn’t bother with him.

I wanted to start working on my mask immediately. Since color wouldn’t be a factor for Milo, I was going back to my green, with as little palace silver as I could manage. My stomach flipped in anticipation.

First, I needed to draft my design. After our tour of
the workroom, I had a good idea of what was available and drew some sketches. It felt like a lifetime ago I last designed something for myself, though it was only at the last new year as I was close to finishing my apprenticeship.

I knew I should be practical, but with goods like these at my disposal, I might have gotten a little carried away. The jewels reserved for commissioned masks were of course not available, but I had fine silks; glass beads of varying sizes, shapes, and colors; and feathers from any bird I could ask for.

Before I knew it, the bells for dinner were ringing, and I realized I’d spent most of my afternoon drafting with nothing much to show for it. I didn’t know when Milo expected my mask to be complete, but I’m sure sooner would be better than later.

I resolved to be more disciplined in my work tomorrow and straightened up my papers before bidding Milo a good evening and reluctantly dashing to the kitchens.

* * *

That night, I wasn’t at all surprised to see Aiden waiting for me at my door. “You know, you could just wait inside,” I said as I wearily opened the door for him, tired from all the excitement of the day. “It’s not as if I have anything for you to snoop through.”

“I would never invade a lady’s privacy,” he claimed, feigning insult.

“I’m sure,” I said dryly.

“So?” he prompted, obviously eager to hear about what I’d done in the masking room.

“So?” I responded, intentionally misunderstanding with
a teasing glance. “So you need extra lessons on how to treat a lady? Something that touches on the finer points of the secrets a lady is entitled to both keep and know?”

He snorted. “You have more than your fair share of secrets, my lady. Both of your own and of others. Come on, tell me what I want to hear before I regret my astounding act of generosity.”

I nudged his shoulder with mine. “So modest.”

“When you’re as stunning as I am, I’m as modest as is to be expected.”

Groaning and fighting back laughter, I said, “All right, I surrender. Where shall I start?” And so I told him about my first assignment and the possible designs I was considering. I think I saw his eyes glaze over a little with boredom when I began to wax verbose about my designs, but my excitement seemed contagious.

“Will you get to keep the mask when you’re done?” he asked.

“I don’t know, actually. I would think so, since it’ll be so specifically fitted to me, but when would I use it? It’s a formal mask. And how would I pay for it?”

“Considering you’re doing all the labor, I think you’ll earn it,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s why they needed another man for figures. Milo might be getting a little generous.” We both laughed at that.

“How about the people in there? Are they any better than the kitchens?”

“They’re more likely to keep to themselves, I think. Everyone seems too busy to bother with gossip.” Except maybe Emma, though she seemed more concerned about rules and regulations than about who was talking with
whom. She’d been very thorough on the processes for cutting ribbon or claiming feathers.

“That must be a nice change.”

“Yes.” I sighed. “I wish I could stay there all day.”

“Ah, but then you’d be deprived of my company. And I doubt you’d be able to bear such a loss.”

I laughed again. “You have a mighty high opinion of yourself tonight. Is there any special occasion I’m unaware of?”

He laced his hands together and stretched leisurely. “Well, I was able to make good on an important promise of mine, which was no mean feat—”

“And I do appreciate that, truly,” I said earnestly.

“—but I was also particularly brilliant in my council meeting today.”

“Oh?”

He shook his head at me. “Can’t tell you, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied flatly, slightly annoyed that he would bring it up and then not tell me about whatever it was.

My tone deflated him slightly, and he stood to leave. “I think I’ll take my leave on that note, before I say something to really upset you.”

“That’s probably a wise decision.”

“Just remember tomorrow, when you’re lost in a day-dream of silk and flowers and who knows what else, that I’m the reason you’re there.” He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling.

I laughed and shoved him out the door. “Good
night
, Aiden.”

“E
vie?” Aiden asked late one
night as I worked on my mask. It felt familiar, just the two of us, him talking while I tried to get some work done. I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. I was still annoyed with him.

“I’m trying to concentrate.”

“It’s important.”

Sighing heavily, I looked up at him. His face was serious and half shadowed in the flickering candlelight.

“You still haven’t told me what really happened that night,” he said.

I looked back down. “Yes, I did.”

“You gave me approximately ten words. What really happened? Why are you hiding here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think you need to, though. Evie, you lost your home and your father and your masks all in one night. I know you’re not okay.”

I stared at him, unused to this serious side of him. There was something about being in the palace with him, I
realized. I was no longer taking care of him. Somehow, he was taking care of
me
. I don’t know if it was thanks to the fear of losing me in the fire that did it or something else, but he was different here.

I exhaled and slumped in my chair, crossing my arms. “I’m not letting one night ruin my life.”

“I’m not suggesting that you do. In fact, that’s the opposite of what I want you to do. That’s why I’m asking.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew the moment I’d let myself start talking, I’d start crying as well. I’d start thinking about everything I’d lost, about how my life was irrevocably changed forever in that one night. Before, I’d known where my life was going. I’d known I’d be a mask maker and I’d work alongside my father making beautiful things. My life would be simple but content.

Now nothing was simple. I didn’t know where my life was taking me. And that terrified me.

But I did know I was not going to cry in front of Aiden. That much, at least, was in my control.