What is Hidden

by Skidmore, Lauren

  I fidgeted as she continued to stare at me. “Is everything okay?” I finally asked, pitching my voice a little higher than usual.

  She blinked and drew back. “I’m sorry, you just . . . reminded me of someone. Sorry. How rude of me. You must be Joch’s latest victim.” She smiled warmly at me, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m Iniga.”

  “Yes, I’m Joch’s newest apprentice,” I confirmed, not offering my name. It was a common enough name that I doubted she would suspect me, but I didn’t want to risk it, especially after she already thought she recognized me. “Do you know where he is?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know he was going to be in here today. He’s been in the main workroom a lot lately.” I had noticed him in there more than I’d expected; usually he was working out something on paper or reading. “I was just coming in here to borrow a pair of prongs. Mine broke.”

  I stepped away from the tools I had been looking at, and she selected what she needed. As she pulled the door open again to leave, she turned to look at me once more.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I couldn’t help but ask her. She looked so sad.

  She managed another weak smile. “I’ll survive,” she said softly. With one last glance in my direction, she left, closing the door gently behind her.

  I exhaled.

  Poor Iniga. I felt horrible for not letting her know I was okay, but I didn’t see how I could. And I knew she would forgive me. She had an understanding soul.

  The door swung open again, startling me, and Joch strode in. He barely glanced my way as he placed a bag on the worktable and began emptying it.

  “You will watch and stay out of my way,” he said, his voice clipped. “I don’t have time to teach you every little thing. You learn by doing in here, if you learn at all.”

  I frowned, ignoring the goose bumps that rose along my arms and the shiver that slid down my spine. I wasn’t going to be frightened off. “I understand.”

  He turned and folded his arms across his broad chest, studying me. I stared back at him, my chin high. His arrogance marred his looks somewhat, but he was still undeniably good looking. Years of working with glass must have given him those muscular arms and shoulders, though he still wasn’t what I’d consider bulky. His black hair was just as messy as the first time I’d seen him, and his mask was deceptively simple, though a bit more concealing than the current fashion. Palace silver with sharp cuts of forest green along the cheekbones gave him an intimidating look, though given his jawline, his face underneath was probably just as sharp.

  “Good,” he finally said, breaking the tense silence.

  And that was the last thing he said to me for the duration of our time together that day. Surprisingly, I still learned a lot, sitting on my stool in the corner and scrutinizing his every move.

  He worked quickly, his hands sure and nimble as he coaxed the glass into shape after shape, though he never seemed quite pleased with his results. He got the shape of a mask, but when he tried to embellish it, the glass seemed to refuse to cooperate. Regardless, he was fascinating to watch.

  Several hours later, when the clock tower rang, warning me to get downstairs for dinner, I slid off my stool and stretched. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow,” I informed him. He didn’t say anything but nodded in acknowledgement. This lesson would have to be good enough for today, unless I wanted to be late and risk a scolding.

  Thankfully dinner passed without incident and I could finally return to my room for a much needed break. I hoped Aiden would be there too, so I could tell him about my new assignment.

  He was in my room, but he was less than pleased with my news.

  “You’re alone with him for hours at a time? No chaperone or anything?” he asked sharply, his brow furrowed.

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. He barely even notices I’m there. I think he said two sentences to me today. Maybe ten words total.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You’re not allowed to use your sources to change anything,” I said firmly. “I want to learn how to make those glass masks, and he’s the only one that can teach me. And I might be the only one that can put up with him.”

  His frown deepened. “I can’t even suggest a chaperone?”

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “Definitely not. It’d only draw attention to us.”

  “Then I’m definitely getting you a knife or something.”

  “Aiden.” I stepped in front of him and uncrossed my arms, placing them firmly on his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure that would make things worse. What if someone found out I was armed? Or if I was attacked and I dropped it? I wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

  His shoulders sagged.

  I continued, “We’ll keep up our fighting lessons, though. Will that make you feel better?”

  He sighed, lowering his eyes to look directly into mine. “If that’s the best I can get from you, I suppose I have no choice.”

  I suddenly felt too warm. I laughed nervously, pulling my hands back. “You worry too much.”

  Raising an eyebrow at me, he said pointedly, “Given your history, I think you don’t worry enough.”

  That sobered me somewhat. I’d grown complacent in the palace, surrounded by people and guards and high walls. I bit my lip. “Fine,” I surrendered. “I’ll let you start to train me in knife fighting too. When I feel like I’m good enough to actually use it, I’ll carry one.”

  He relaxed. “That’s good enough for me.” Then he broke into that boyish smile I knew so well. “Shall we begin?”

  * * *

  My days fell into an easy routine. Breakfast and lunch were spent in the kitchens with Carese, with the time in between in the masking room. Afternoons were with Joch, followed by serving dinner, and then lessons with Aiden. Every night, I fell gratefully into bed and woke every morning feeling slightly sore but stronger.

  Aiden was pleased with my progress and, after a week, he convinced me that I was good enough to keep hold of my weapon. “And if you’re really that concerned,” he’d conceded, “don’t draw it. But it will still make me feel better that you have the option.”

  Grumbling, I accepted, and he presented me with a fine knife that I kept up my sleeve. It was much easier to hide with the weather growing chillier. I didn’t know where I’d hide it during the harsh heat of summer. Under my skirts, maybe, but then how I would get to it?

  My progress with Joch was less encouraging. He barely spoke to me and wouldn’t let me do anything—it was easy to see why so many had quit before me. Frustrated with the lack of progress, I finally spoke up.

  “When do I get to do something?”

  He must have forgotten I was in the room, because he dropped the mask he was working on, rod and all, and it shattered on the hard floor into a few pieces. He turned to me with fury boiling in his eyes. “Look what you just did!” he shouted at me, gesturing angrily at the broken mask.

  “I did? You were the one holding it. It’s not my fault you forgot you’re supposed to be training me. Besides,” I pointed out, “it didn’t break into that many pieces. You can just as easily seal it back together as throw it out.”

  He gave me a dirty, disbelieving look.

  “No, really. I remember seeing a glass blower who would use gold or silver as a sort of glue on vases that were broken. They were beautiful when he finished. I don’t know if you have such fine material to work with, but surely there’s something—”

  “I have it,” he interrupted. “As a guest to the palace—especially one working on masks for nobles—I have access to anything I need.”

  “Then you might as well try it,” I said, shrugging, unimpressed with his arrogance. “Or let me try it.” I hadn’t mentioned that Iniga was the one who’d shown me the technique, and that it was one I wasn’t horrible at.

  Glaring at me, he motioned for me to go ahead, his expression unchanging the whole time I worked. I picked up the br
oken pieces with his tongs and placed them in a bowl of water to cool, then went to inspect the jars lining the shelves, selecting one with gold colored sand. I measured it out and placed it in the furnace until it was molten liquid, then went to work on drawing strands of gold and piecing the glass back together.

  It was a long and tedious process, but by the end of it, I was pleased with the outcome. Gold lining spider-webbed through the glass, catching the light with the slightest movement. The mask was still clear, though, and needed something to make it opaque before anyone could wear it.

  “See?” I asked smugly. “I told you.”

  He grunted as he continued to work on smoothing the seals. “It’s still not perfect,” he said.

  “Of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s my first one.”

  Apparently he expected perfection instantly and pursed his lips. “You can start working after the masquerades,” he announced. “I have too much work to be done before then.”

  “Really?” I jumped off my stool in excitement. “I can actually do something? What about until then?”

  “You can figure out a way to salvage that mask.” He nodded at the one in front of me. “Then it will be yours.”

  * * *

  “So when do I get to see this masterpiece?” Aiden teased as I bragged to him about my achievement.

  “Well, it’s not done yet,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “You can’t see it until it’s perfect.”

  “When will that be?”

  “It’ll be done when it’s done,” I said patiently. “And it’s fancy, so I have to find somewhere to wear it.”

  “What? Am I not fancy enough for you?”

  I shoved his shoulder, laughing. “Sorry, but no.”

  He pouted but recovered quickly enough to show he wasn’t offended and changed the subject. “What about your work in the kitchens? Has that become any more tolerable?”

  “It’s tolerable,” I hedged, and he frowned. “The kitchen mistress hates me, and I don’t think there’s anything either of us could do about that. But I’m getting used to the way things work and can usually stay out of her way. Besides, I’m in the mask room more often than the kitchen, and that makes up for anything that happens. Did I say thank you for that, by the way?”

  He smirked. “You can always say it again.”

  “I’d better not. Your head might grow too big for your mask.”

  He laughed. “And on that note, let’s get back to your training.”

  =

  SIXTEEN

  +

  After my first night as a server, there hadn’t been any repeats of unusual attention from the prince. However, that didn’t mean I’d gone completely unnoticed. On one night, one particular guest had received far too much wine, through no fault of mine.

  About three quarters through the meal, he raised his cup and loudly asked, “Where’s my wine gone?”

  As I hurried to refill it, wondering how on earth it was empty already—I’d filled it not five minutes before—he threw an arm around my waist and exclaimed happily, “Here’s something finer than wine! Can I drink you up?”

  He laughed boisterously, and I politely declined and pulled away.

  He wasn’t having any of that, though.

  “What’s that?” he shouted, growing agitated. “You would rather not? No one ‘rather not’s’ me! Now see here, miss—”

  I started to panic, memories of flames and smoke flashing across my vision, but before he could even finish his sentence, or threat, or whatever it was going to be, Vera stepped up with a guard.

  The guard loosened the man’s hold on me, only for my arm to be captured by a barely controlled Vera.

  “I think it’s time you head up to bed, my lord,” the guard suggested gently, looking pointedly at the man’s companions. They guiltily ushered their friend out, knowing full well that they could have stopped the show if they’d wanted.

  I didn’t dare look up, feeling instead the dozens of stares in my direction. I’d gotten so used to being invisible in this room that having this much attention was extremely unnerving. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and my stomach twisted in knots. I was almost grateful when Vera dragged me back into the kitchens, silently commanding another girl to cover my station with a pointed look.

  Once safely behind the kitchen doors, she lit into me.

  “What were you thinking?” she hissed. I flinched. “Getting so close to a patron, it’s disgusting. And letting his cup run dry? Have you learned nothing? You have one simple task, and you can’t even complete it?”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.

  “Don’t even think about talking back to me. How dare you! I can’t believe it.” She paced angrily in front of me, looking like a jungle cat stalking her prey. She had a wild look in her eyes, and I braced myself for whatever way she chose to lash out at me.

  Stopping in her tracks and spinning around to point at me, she delivered my unjust punishment. “Since you can’t seem to keep a cup full, you’ll just have to become more familiar with the dishes. Perhaps after washing every one tonight, you’ll remember what a full goblet is supposed to look like.”

  “All of them?” I cried out, horrified. There would be hundreds—I’d be here all night! Which meant I would miss my time with Aiden. And if I wasn’t in my room, he’d worry. And who knew what he’d do then?

  Vera grinned, clearly pleased that her punishment was causing me such distress. I wanted to slap that stupid grin right off her skinny face.

  She all but skipped away, calling back at me, “You’d better get started, little miss. I’d hate for there to be anything left in the morning. Some breakfast dishes might slip into your queue.” She cackled and I turned to stare dejectedly at the sinks.

  Normally, all the servers took a task in cleaning the dishes. Five would wash, five dry, and five more to put the dishes away.

  Tonight, it would just be me.

  And I didn’t have a choice. If I disobeyed, I could be kicked out at best or submitted to the stocks for a day at worst. In the stocks, my mask would be stripped and my Mark would be discovered.

  I sighed and dejectedly stared at the pile that had already started to form. The kitchen hands had heard Vera’s declaration and happily abandoned their posts to make room for me. I wanted to finish as soon as possible, so I tied my sleeves back and, with one more sigh, got to work.

  * * *

  Well after nightfall when I was completely alone in the kitchens, I’d made a small dent in the massive pile, but I still had over half of the dishes to wash and all of them to put away. My theory was to let them dry themselves, which seemed to be working out well enough, but putting them away by lamplight was going to be a chore and a half.

  Meanwhile, I was so worried about Aiden worrying about me, I was nearly dropping things. It was just about the time for him to show up at my door, and I listened anxiously for any sound of a ruckus or something.

  “Hey there.”

  I jumped out of my skin and did drop the plate I was washing, thankfully back into the soapy water where it landed with a wet splash.

  “Aiden! How did you know where I was?”

  He gave me a look. “I always know where you are. It’s my gift, remember?”

  “And that’s not creepy.” I was so relieved to see him that I didn’t have my filter engaged.

  He laughed. “I’m not following you everywhere, if that’s what you’re implying. I am simply aware of you. And I keep my ears open. News travels fast in the palace.”

  I lobbed a wet dish towel at him, which he caught easily. “If you’re going to be here, you’re going to work, mister.”

  He looked vaguely mystified. “Me? Wash dishes?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “I’ve . . . um . . . this is ridiculous,” he mumbled. “But I’ve never washed dishes before.”

  I dropped the plate I was scrubbing into the sink and turned to stare at him. “Are you kiddi
ng me?”

  He stared down at his feet. “We’ve—my family—always had someone else to do them. And it was never something I really wanted to try.”

  Well, this was something new. He’d always been ridiculously curious around me, wanting to know as much as he could about as much as he could. And I’d already known his family was well off—if his position on the King’s Council didn’t give him away, his nice clothing, having a hired man at his door as a child, and other various clues did. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” he said, clearly embarrassed. Normally I’d milk his embarrassment for all it was worth, but this revelation seemed to be a genuine sore spot.

  After a moment of pregnant silence (I couldn’t help but make him squirm a little), I turned back to my dishes. “All right, come over here. I’ll let you off the hook if you talk while I wash.”

  “I’m not just going to stand here and watch you work,” he objected, seemingly offended that I’d even suggest it.

  “You want me to teach you how to wash dishes?”

  “It can’t be that hard, can it? I mean, you just stick it in the water and get the leftover food off.”

  “Easier said than done. Here, you can take my spot and I’ll start putting things away.”

  He took my position at the sink and rolled up his sleeves, as if preparing for a fight. I had to giggle at the serious expression on his face as he tackled the dirty dishes.

  “So,” I said conversationally, picking up a stack of salad plates to put in the cupboard, “what do your parents do anyway? They’re obviously well off, but I don’t even know them.”

  “You’ve seen them around, I’m sure.” He spoke hesitantly, but I couldn’t tell if it was the crusted plate that was baffling him or the subject matter that made him uncomfortable. “They do a little bit of everything.”

  “And how are you always here, anyway? Wait, let me guess.” I watched his shoulders tense up. “You’re not just from a noble family. Are you from a rich old-money noble? Living in the palace? Is that how you manage to get in and out of everywhere and pull all these favors?”