What is Hidden (11 page)

“Charm?” I laughed, and something in the tension between us broke.

He smiled genuinely now. “I
am
sorry, Evie. If I could have had it any other way . . .”

“Why can’t you? Why do you have to keep so many secrets?”

The smile slipped from his face, and he sighed. His voice was sad when he answered, “I wish I didn’t have to. Especially from you.”

“And yet . . .”

“I’m sorry. They’re not . . .” He paused, his face twisting in pain as he searched for the right words. “It’s not just about me. I can’t tell you things without revealing secrets that belong to other people as well.”

“Just tell me what you can, all right? I don’t want to be serving again and suddenly see you in the main dining hall announcing your engagement to some beauty from another island or something,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. I was hurt and angry, but he was too dear to lose, especially now.

His laugh sounded forced, but he said nothing more on the subject. “It’s still so strange to see you in that mask,” he commented. “I don’t know which of us was more surprised in that room to see the other. I’m just really glad I saw you last night. If that had been the first time . . . ,” he trailed off.

“You would have done more than ignore me and then run away?” I prodded.

He groaned. “Almost definitely. And that would have been bad.”

I could feel my face flush and touched my mask absently, making sure it was sitting as it should. “Is it that odd?” I asked to turn the attention from me to my mask.

“Yeah.” He stepped forward and fingered it lightly, looking distracted. My breath caught. I wasn’t used to him standing so close. And his fingers were dangerously close to my Mark as they brushed my skin. “It’s different. And don’t take this the wrong way, but the palette suits you.”

I gave him a funny look, Mark forgotten. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m suited to work as a palace servant?”

He sighed and backed away. “See, that’s taking it the wrong way. I mean the silver suits you. I’d love to see you in a white mask.”

“Ha, yeah right! Only the royal family wears white, and the day I stand with them will be the day fish fly and birds swim. Besides, this is more gray than silver.”

He shrugged and began walking alongside me. “You never know,” he said. “I’ve heard tell of some birds that can swim.”

“You’re being ridiculous again.” I sighed as I ran a finger through my hair, catching a snag I’d missed earlier. I hadn’t been able to completely get rid of the cinnamon smell either, but at least that was pleasant.

I groaned at the memory, and Aiden asked what had happened.

“Nothing,” I was quick to answer. “Just remembering
one of the girls was being a nuisance this morning. You know. Making sure the new girl was up to standard.”

He frowned again and glanced at the way I was picking at my hair. “By doing what?”

I dropped my hand. “It’s not important.”

“What did you say her name was?”

“Oh no, I’m not telling you that. You’ll go find her and put her out of work. And as much as I might like that idea, I’m not going to be that mean.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. As much as I disliked Jeza and would enjoy striking back, she was a gossip, and that was bound to come in handy eventually.

“Well, you have a standing offer, then. Just say the word.”

“And you’ll pull your strings?” I teased.

“Call me your puppet master,” he said, laughing. “Will you at least tell me what she said?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know really. Just that the prince can choose from any girl in the country, and this is the year he’ll do it. But it would never be me because I’d have to actually meet the prince, and I’m not in any position to do so.”

“Oh, really?” The teasing glint was back in his eyes. “Suppose he’s riding on a procession through town and his horse shied and took off right toward you and you managed to calm it down—”

“Or get trampled by it,” I snorted.

“—and the prince was amazed by your
gentle
nature and whisks you away to be married that night.”

“I don’t go into town anymore,” I pointed out.

“Fine,” he continued on undeterred. “You’re serving
a meal to their majesties at some royal function or other and—oh no!—spill your whole jug on the prince’s least favorite dignitary. He proposes to you on the spot. As soon as the dignitary is gone, of course.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

He smiled back at me. “I aim to please.”

* * *

The next few days passed much more quietly. I fell into a routine: breakfast service in the morning, picking up various chores during the day, dinner service, then meeting with Aiden for a few moments at night.

Once I’d found my feet, I was determined to find out all I could about the Chameleon. As soon as I had time to explore the palace as only a servant could, it didn’t take me long to find where the news runners gathered.

They favored a large parlor near the back of the palace, one with a special entrance just for them; free of the crowds that used the servants’ entrance. I wasn’t the only non-runner who visited either; it seemed to be a popular spot for many of the maids.

The runners were all quite fit young men, after all.

I didn’t have the time or the energy for that sort of thing, but it didn’t hurt to have something nice to look at while doing such an unpleasant task as hunting down the Chameleon.

Once I knew where to go to hear the goings-on of the day, it took even less time to find someone willing to tell me all he knew. Unfortunately, all of them knew little. It seemed the Chameleon was keeping a low profile after his latest attack.

I tried not to let it get me down, and Aiden’s nightly visits did wonders at keeping my spirits up. When I asked how he managed to see me so late at night, he said he was staying at the palace while the business with the red tide was being sorted, so he didn’t have to worry about traveling at night.

Our meetings were short, but they quickly became the highlight of my day. While he still wasn’t exactly spilling out childhood secrets, he was a little more willing to tell me a little about his sister, Bianca, or his various exploits as an adventurous teenager.

One particular night about a week after I discovered him in the council room, he greeted me at my door with a wide grin and pulled me into a tight embrace before spinning me once around excitedly. I quickly wiggled out of his grasp and looked behind him, worried that someone would see. Nobility didn’t generally go around hugging the help. But it seemed the coast was clear and his expression was too warm to be anything but happy he was there.

“Let me guess. You brought me good news,” I said.

That put a great smile on his lips. “That I did, my Lady. That I did indeed.”

T
he next day, I was
still humming with excitement from Aiden’s news the night before as I cleaned up after breakfast. When I heard his familiar knock on my door, I wrenched it open, beaming up at him.

“You don’t even have to go to lunch. I’m here to take you straight up to the Masking Room,” he announced proudly in lieu of a greeting.

“You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about that,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “I know how much this means to you.”

“Yes. I’m going to owe you one huge favor.”

“I will certainly keep that in mind,” he said, laughing.

“So what do I need to do?”

“Well, like I said, we’re going to go to the workroom now. They wanted to send some official notice, but I thought this would be more fun.”

“I agree. Am I completely done with the kitchens, then?”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately not. Naturally you’ll still have to eat there, at the same times, and you’ll still have to assist in the evenings for dinner and for special occasions
when they need more servers. I couldn’t have you completely transferred without raising some suspicion, and I was pretty sure you didn’t want any of that.”

“You thought correctly, sir.”

“Sorry. I know you don’t really like it there.”

I shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I like watching people at dinner. And it’s not a hard job, aside from the constant standing and carrying heavy jugs.”

He laughed. “I’m sure people like watching you too. That might be part of why I couldn’t get you out. I wouldn’t want to deprive anyone of the chance to have you wait on them.”

I rolled my eyes, remembering the scene from my first night. “Sure.”

“All right, my Lady, let’s go. I’m surprised you haven’t already tried to drag me up there.”

“You’re too tall for me to drag. I wouldn’t want to stretch you out any further.” I stuck my tongue out at him childishly, and he laughed all the way down the hall.

We arrived at the Masking Room, and I stopped in my tracks, stunned. I’d been in many a mask-making workshop, particularly when first learning my trade, but the Masking Room was something else entirely. It was like someone had taken my workroom, enlarged it ten times, and upgraded the materials by twenty.

It was also buzzing with activity, but this kind of activity I understood. I could find the difference between the master workers and the assistants easily, not just by their masks, but also by how they handled the materials and carried themselves.

Mask makers fell under the artisan title and wore masks of green, though that wasn’t explicitly the case here. I felt a
pain as I missed my old mask, but I shoved that to the back of my mind. The assistants fell under the serving class of the castle, so they were in silvers and grays, like the mask I was already wearing. I would blend in easily, and should I actually rise to a higher level, I could wear my familiar greens. And even if I couldn’t wear them, I could see them. That thought alone was comforting. I always thought the greens were more warm and open than the stark grays and blacks of the kitchen’s serving class.

In my shop, when I was old enough to work, I was put in charge of making the molds and bases for the masks, as well as any business that took us away from the shop itself. My father preferred to stay with the shop, and always had more than enough work to keep himself busy and his mind distracted.

My beadwork was good enough to sell, but that was the only decorating technique in which I seemed to have any particular skill. And by beadwork, I mean designing the beads into the masks, not the manufacturing of the beads themselves. I’d tried my hand at blowing my own glass beads once, but it ended poorly. I wasn’t allowed another attempt. Beads were easy enough to buy, though, and I’d bought whatever I could afford from Iniga and whatever I couldn’t from the boats. I’d always preferred the design and to look of the big picture anyway.

I looked back to Aiden, who was standing just outside the door, for reassurance.

He leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “Here is where I have to leave you. Go ask for Milo—he’s the master you’ll be working under. I’d escort you, but I’m actually supposed to be somewhere else right now.”

As he stepped back, I placed one hand on my hip and looked at him, ignoring the sudden racing of my pulse. “I’m not getting you in trouble, am I?”

He waved my concerns aside. “No, not at all. They’re used to me being late or not showing up at all. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me at all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Now go show them what you can do, my lady.” With that farewell, he lightly pressed a kiss to the back of my hand and walked away.

I watched him go, then squared my shoulders and walked into the room, feeling as if I could take on the world. I would be in my element. I would be working in the Royal Masking. Nothing could make me happier, save seeing the Chameleon in the Square.

“Excuse me,” I said, using my most polite voice, “can you point me in the direction of Milo?”

The gray-masked, slender girl I had addressed looked me up and down, then pointed over to a surprisingly young man. “That’s him there, with the crow’s feather on the right.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you new?” she asked before I walked away. She didn’t sound threatening, just curious, which was a nice change. “My name is Emma,” she offered, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear.

“Evie.”

“Like I said, Milo is over there. I work for him too, so I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other.” She gave a tight smile and returned to her task of braiding yellow and blue ribbons together.

“Thanks.”

I watched for a moment; her work was good. The braiding was perfectly even and very small. It wasn’t difficult work, especially not with what I was used to, but it was something very familiar, and something I’d spent hours upon hours doing as a child. She could be talented someday.

I maneuvered through the packed room, dodging precariously stacked bolts of fabric and tables with loose beads that could fall and roll between the floorboards.

“Milo?”

“Yes, lady?” The man turned around.

Milo was a striking man, broad and muscular, with the look of a former soldier. He wore his dark, gray-streaked hair tied back in a low ponytail and would have been extremely intimidating if not for the errant threads stuck to his sleeve or the ribbons hanging out of his pocket.