What is Hidden

by Skidmore, Lauren

  I’d even stopped by the runners’ parlor again to see if they could distract me, but they were so busy they didn’t even have time to flirt. And for the first time they had something to tell me about the Chameleon. They had only rumors, but it was something.

  What better time for the Chameleon to use his stolen masks than during a Masquerade? If he’d managed to steal a fine enough mask, he could easily alter it just enough to avoid being suspicious and slip inside. No one would be the wiser that the nobleman in front of them was no nobleman at all.

  That’s what made the Chameleon so dangerous.

  * * *

  Later that night as I was waiting for Aiden to come to my room for our nightly combat practice, I was so tightly wound I could barely sit still. On top of the threat of the Chameleon making an appearance, I just couldn’t let Jeza’s comments go.

  “Argh!” I pounded my fist against the stone wall in anger. This action, of course, did nothing to the wall and probably bruised my hand.

  “Whoa! What happened to you?” Aiden asked, clearly concerned as he stood at my doorway. I’d taken to just leaving the door open for him. It wasn’t as if anyone else came down here.

  I spun around to face him and hid my sore fist behind my back, embarrassed. “It’s just me thinking I can take on the wall. You know how I can be,” I said weakly, trying to make a joke out of it.

  He rolled his eyes at my lame attempt and held out his hand. “Give me your hand, my lady.”

  “Why? I beat that wall down. I totally won that match.”

  “Evie.”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” I protested, but he reached around me and took my hand in his. He massaged the tendons gently, and oddly enough, that helped relax the tension in the rest of my body. So I let him continue for as long as he wished, and when he stopped, I didn’t pull my hand away immediately.

  I flexed my fingers experimentally. “What did you do? I feel so relaxed now.”

  He chuckled. “It’s something my mother taught me a long time ago. She’d get stressed, and I’d do the same thing to her hand. It relaxed her almost immediately every time. I don’t know why.”

  “Well, you have my permission to do that whenever you want,” I said glibly, “because that felt all sorts of good.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that. But back to the original question, why did you feel the urge to take on the stone wall?”

  “Would you believe it offended me with its general gray gloominess and I couldn’t take it anymore?”

  He laughed. “Not a chance.”

  “I got my duty details for the balls,” I said, sighing. “I won’t be able to attend as a guest, apparently. I’d known it was too much to hope for. But I’d wanted to sneak in to at least one of them.”

  His face fell. Apparently he’d been hoping the same thing. “Well, that’s certainly a good enough excuse to beat up a poor innocent wall. I’m being forced to go. You’ll probably see me all dressed up like a peacock.”

  I giggled. “And what a fine peacock you’ll make.”

  “It’s going to be ridiculous, just you wait. My mask is pretty great, though. At least that’ll be one part of my appearance I won’t despise.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, encouraging him to go on.

  Masquerade masks were something else altogether. They were much more elaborate than day-to-day apparel, covered with feathers, jewels, and all sorts of detailed carvings and engravings. Much fancier than even the formal mask I was making for Milo. That would be one benefit of being a server—I’d get to see everyone’s finery. If I’d been a guest, I’d probably miss the grand majority of it because I’d be forced to stay in the lower levels of the ballrooms. The best ones were in the upper quarters, and I was going to find a way up there if it was the last thing I did that night.

  “Yes, I’m told I look very dashing in it,” he said with a hint of pride.

  “By whom? Your mother?” I teased.

  His cheeks tinged pink, and I knew I’d hit the target. “You’re just jealous,” he retorted.

  “I am,” I said honestly. “I could never look as dashing as you.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “You’d be more of the beautiful type, I suppose.”

  “You suppose. Thanks,” I said flatly, still teasing.

  “Okay, I know you’d be beautiful. Is that better?” he asked.

  I pretended to think it over. “I suppose that will have to do.”

  “Glad to be of service, my lady.”

  “What’s so bad about the rest of your outfit?” I asked, curious.

  He grimaced. “It’s . . . really elaborate. I don’t know how I’m going to move.”

  I laughed. “You can hang out with me, then, and just stand in one place.”

  “Believe me, if I thought I could get away with it, I would.”

  We both knew what he wasn’t saying. If he was seen socializing with a serving girl, he’d get into serious trouble with his father. The purpose of these balls was for match-making. Those with matches enjoyed the general atmosphere and frivolity, but those unmatched were supposed to find a potential desirable candidate. If Aiden were suspected of sabotaging any chances he had at finding a match, oh, he’d pay for it with his parents.

  “Do I get to help you find potentials?” I asked.

  I was surprised to note that he looked offended. “I’m . . . not really planning on looking that hard,” he admitted.

  “Ah,” I said. “There’s already someone you’ve got your sights set on?”

  “I don’t have a choice in the matter,” he said flatly, then abruptly changed the subject. “Do I get a chance to fight you tonight, or did the wall already take the best out of you?”

  “Dream on,” I scoffed. “What have you got for me to learn tonight?”

  “Well, tonight I thought we’d switch to some leg work for a bit. Give your arms a rest.”

  “In other words, exhaust me so I can barely stand tomorrow,” I said bitterly.

  He bit back a grin. “It builds your strength.”

  “Yeah, right. You just like to see me suffer.”

  “Guilty as charged. Now, I’m not going to teach you how to kick, because odds are that would open you up to more vulnerable attacks than anything else. Also, kicks are not as effective in a skirt.”

  I ignored his last comment. “Okay, so no kicks. Sounds boring.”

  “Please. When have I ever been boring?”

  “Would you like me to make a list?” I asked cheekily.

  “Yes, please, actually,” he shot back, unwilling to back down. “I want to know when I have done such an offensive thing as bore you.”

  “You’re going off on a tangent. I thought you were teaching me something, sire.”

  He laughed. “Fine, fine. All right, instead of kicks, I’m going to teach you all the cheap tricks.”

  “I know the cheap tricks already,” I said impatiently. “That was how I beat you in the first place, remember?”

  He shook his head and held up two fingers. “First, the fact of you beating me is still up for debate, and second”—he lowered one finger so that the one remaining was pointing right in my face—“you hardly know all the cheap tricks.”

  I glared at his offending finger and reached to grab and shove it out of my direct line of vision, but as I reached, he swung his leg around to tap the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle out of reflex. Then when I grabbed his arm for balance, he managed to somehow knock me on my knees and spin me around so that I was facing away from him and he had me in a headlock.

  “W-what was that?” I sputtered.

  “Another dirty trick. Want me to show you?” He loosened his grip on me and helped me up from the ground.

  We spent the next couple of hours knocking each other down, and I was sure I was going to have a few bruises in the morning to show for my efforts. But heaven help the next person who stuck their finger in my face.

  =

  TWENTY-ONE

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  There were three main Masquerade Balls at the end of the tenth month every year, to celebrate the coming of winter and the end of summer. I’d never attended them, but I loved to make the masks for them. I’d never had any client so high ranking that any mask of mine was worn to the palace’s masquerade, but the districts held smaller celebrations of their own.

  In addition to celebrating the seasons and the match-making that took place behind the scenes, it was the biggest opportunity for mask makers to show off their skills. All three nights were extremely elaborate, and each one more so than the previous.

  The first night was the least elaborate, though only in comparison to the other two. When pitted against any other celebration from the rest of the year, that first night outshone them in every area.

  The theme of the first night was to bid farewell to the hard and hot days of summer and to celebrate the end of the harvest. Growing up near the fishing ports, I’d learned that the fish came in seasons as well. The particular types of fish that our island thrived on migrated to warmer waters during the cold winter months, and most fishermen used the off-season to repair their tools and boats. Some did chase the fish south and sent back their catches, but that was a small percentage. Regardless of which group the men fell in, they had plenty to do during the winter months.

  The masquerades also had great feasts, and the first night focused on fish. The palace scouted out the best chefs from every village, and a grand assortment of contests were held for the best use of the various fishes.

  And, of course, there were the guests. Traders that used our ports were always extended an invitation, and they always accepted. Some traveled here at this time of year with the express purpose of obtaining an invitation to our masquerades.

  Last, and my favorite part, were the masks. Tonight’s theme was water, and mask makers from all over designed masks for their patrons to wear, hoping to bring in more customers and to show off their skill. One year, I loitered outside the palace gates, with many other village children, just to watch the carriages arrive and catch a glimpse of the guests’ masks. If we were lucky, a woman would peek out the window, so we could admire her. I’d never liked the superficial noblewomen, but I didn’t care who wore what, as long as I could see the mask.

  This was what I had to look forward to tonight. And this time, I’d be actually in the palace, instead of relegated to the outside perimeter or the small parties in the districts. I didn’t even care that I would be all but invisible; in fact, that was more desirable to me. I could probably gawk and stare all I wanted. These people thrived on attention. I would just have to be careful not to spill anything on anyone.

  That was my worst fear. If I ruined a guest’s dress or costume, I would not only be released from my position, but also likely I’d be put in the stocks and have my mask stripped for public embarrassment, which would of course reveal my Mark. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen after that.

  So I would take extra care this night. I planned on keeping my jug only three quarters full at best, so there would be no risk of the drink splashing out while I was unaware.

  When I entered the kitchens to complete my duties for preparing for the night, it was a whirlwind of activity, as always, but there was also an extra air of excitement and anxiety. It was also a bit unusual to see everyone dressed in their Masquerade uniforms—deep blues and silver instead of the usual black, to match the theme. I hardly recognized some of the girls; the blue brought out some of the spark in them. There was actually some individuality tonight. It was remarkably refreshing.

  Before the guests arrived, my job was to simply keep the kitchens clean. Well, it sounded simple enough, but that was extremely misleading.

  “What on earth happened in here?” I asked, mouth wide open as I stared at the chaos.

  “Where have you been?” the normally gentle Carese asked as she dashed over to grab my arm.

  “I thought I was clean-up duty. And that things would have to be pretty much over before there was anything to do.” I was in absolute shock. How could so few people produce such a mess?

  “Definitely not. None of these guest cooks know where anything is, so they just throw everything in the general direction of the sinks. And if one bowl is too small, they just grab another. I don’t know why they can’t tell it’s too small before using it, but there you go.” She shoved an apron in my hands before dragging me over to the disastrous washing area. When I just stared, she sighed and took the apron out of my hands, throwing it over my head and tying it around my waist for me.

  “I’ll see if I can round up some more help. Otherwise you’re going to be here all night. And if you don’t get some of that junk off before you have to be on the floor, it’ll set, and never come off.”

  She was gone in an instant, and I dumbly ran the hot water, filling up the sink and adding soapy bubbles robotically. I began to scrub frantically, knowing how tired I was going to be afterward, and how badly I’d wanted to spend as much time with Aiden as I could. We’d arranged for him to come to me as soon as he could, so I could drill him on what an exciting life he had. He agreed because I’d pulled the puppy dog face and begged him to let me live vicariously through him, just for these three nights.

  Carese managed to scrounge up two page boys that weren’t needed for another half hour, and managed to persuade them into the kitchens. They worked silently alongside me, but the pile to be conquered didn’t shrink. If anything, it continued to grow—as we pulled three dishes out, someone piled ten more on the stack that towered over my head.

  I was already starting to feel weary when it was time for the page boys to go and for me to freshen myself up to look presentable to the guests. I only had a minute to pick at my hair and smooth the errant curls back into submission, and then I was out on the floor.

  No guests had entered yet and wouldn’t until every servant was in place. Most guests tended to be fashionably late anyway, so the timing usually worked itself out. I took my position at the top of the grand staircase that led to the upper ballroom, where I had an excellent vantage point of the lower ballroom and would see everyone as they passed me into the more elite sections of the party. It was also where I’d told Aiden to look for me, since I probably wouldn’t be able to spot him in the throng. Not to mention the fact that he’d be all dressed up, and I’d never seen him in anything more fancy than a nice pair of breeches.

  Once every server was at attention, the orchestra was settled, and everything was in its proper place, trumpets sounded, announcing the start of the Masquerade. The grand doors were pulled open by two pages, and the Speaker I’d seen before entered first.

  She was beautiful, still in purple like before, though this time it was more of an indigo, with the shimmering blues occasionally overpowering the violets. Her skirts ballooned out from her tight bodice, and sheer sky blue material wrapped its way down her body. Her mask also matched the color scheme. It was studded with white pearls and featured gossamer silver threads hanging from each side to frame her strong face. The silver threads were also used to weave intricate patterns into the mask, across her face. It was truly beautiful, but it was only the beginning of what I would see tonight.

  She stepped to the side, making way for the king and queen, and announcing them to the room. It seemed a bit silly to me, since there were only servants now, but then they couldn’t exactly enter without being announced, even if rank meant less during a masquerade. Social standing could still be seen in the finery of the costumes, and royalty was still royalty, but at least at a masquerade, where society’s colors were free to anyone, the division between classes was more lax, and I could look at everything without fear of getting in trouble.

  The queen looked simply stunning, and the king was equally impressive. As tradition dictated, they were dressed in white from head to toe, with accents of blues and silvers. I couldn’t even begin to describe the elaborate designs or the rich materials of their clothing, but their masks were sim
ply to die for.

  I wasn’t surprised to discover the queen’s mask was lined in nothing but diamonds and sapphires. Blue jay and peacock feathers sprung up from the left side, with one towering white feather that I didn’t know the origin of. Silver threads woven into the mask were also threaded through her hair, creating a crisscross pattern that held her hair up in an elegant bun.

  The king’s mask was more masculine: predominately white in color and only splashed with blue in a striking feather arrangement. His stunning appearance was founded on the extremely intricate carvings and embossings designed into the mask. Impossible knots were his trimming of choice, and the material used to make his mask looked unforgiving. I wished I’d had a chance to watch the person who’d been able to create that.

  The royal couple took their seats on the opposite side of the staircase from where the Speaker stood, so they could stand and greet their guests.

  Then began the parade. Beautiful creation after beautiful creation walked through those doors, and I was glad the party had just begun and my services weren’t needed as much as they would be later in the evening, after I’d gotten a good look at most of the guests.

  However, I hadn’t found Aiden anywhere. And I also hadn’t seen anyone that really stood out as someone who could possibly be the Chameleon.

  I was keeping an eye out for both. And I didn’t really know what to do once I spotted either. With Aiden, that was probably for the better. I didn’t know what his father looked like or what kind of mask he wore, so I wouldn’t know who to keep my distance from and whom I could relax around.

  The Chameleon, though—I was sure it was a good thing I didn’t know who he was. It would tear me up to see him and not be able to do anything. I suppose I could pretend he was attacking me and call the guards on him.

  That actually wasn’t too bad an idea. It’d be worth the attention drawn to me and the commotion it’d cause, if it got the Chameleon caught.