Free A Wish Made Of Glass by Ashlee Willis Page A

healed it.
    Only one thing can do that.
    So it is now, in my coldest and loneliest of moments, that I fathom the emptiness that has been in me for so long. More so, I know at last the one way to fill it.
    In the same moment that I learn what I truly desire, I understand that it is too late. For I have already destroyed it.

CHAPTER TEN
    I cannot imagine a heavier silence than the one hovering between my sister and me as we rumble down the road to the ball. Within the walls of the coach, the atmosphere is so thick it is difficult to draw breath. We sit pressed against opposite corners of the coach like two hostile cats, prepared at any moment to bring out claws. Blessing’s eyes flash blue fury at me from behind her pearl-encrusted mask, and I do the best I can to stave off the roil of emotions washing over me. Guilt and shame are high among them.
    Lord Auren’s abode is more palace than house. We can see it shining, brimful of candlelight, from a mile away, as if the sun is preparing to rise in the west. Its tall stone towers and sweeping verandas are too grand for my taste. I would take a cottage in the heart of the wood before I would think of living in such a place as this. But from the corner of my eye I see Blessing grow still, and from the way her slender shoulders rise and fall I know she is breathless with awe.
    The wide front doors are thrown open and light spills from them and from the windows. It stretches its golden fingers down the stone steps and onto the frost-covered lawn. We enter the doors together and I melt into the crowd as soon as I can, with only a slight stab of guilt at leaving Blessing alone. Even with her mask in place, she is far and away the loveliest woman here tonight, and soon she is surrounded by men petitioning her to dance.
    Giving an inward scoff, I turn my attention to my surroundings. The ballroom is stunning on the merit of its size alone. Thick columns of marble rise so high that the light from themultitude of candles cannot find the top of them. Evergreen boughs and holly branches, bright with berries, are hung everywhere, giving the hall a festive, intimate quality I would not have thought possible in a room so vast.
    And everywhere, everywhere, are masked people. Couples hop and twirl past me in a galliard while the scent of perfume accosts my nose. Their masks are a wonder to see. I marvel at the intricacy of some and cringe at the ferocity of others. There is an owl with feathers poking out from every side and the slash of a sharp beak down the center. There is a man with a face of green leaves fanning out from his eyes. There are gilded masks and jeweled masks and masks of lace and ribbons and animal hide.
    As I stand among the crush of guests, wishing already for this night to be over, a strange feeling comes over me. Like the whisper of a breeze, it touches the base of my neck and the tips of my ears. A shiver creeps under my skin as I turn slowly around.
    It takes me a moment to pick him out. When I do, there is no doubt his gaze is fixed on me. A man is standing across the room. It is a wonder I can see him, for the crowd swarms thick between us. Beneath his mask I can see the angle of a pale, strong jaw. The mask itself is made of burnished metal, thin as parchment, and it angles gracefully around the sides of his face. The eye holes are filled with darkness, and only a glint of dancing light convinces me there are eyes behind them at all. Extending upward from the mask is a pronged diadem. It is a crown fit for a king, and I wonder at the boldness of any man who would wear such a thing in the house of a great lord. Unless …
    I tap the person next to me and the face of a wolf, fangs bared, looms above me. “Excuse me,” I say. “Where is Lord Auren?”
    “Young Auren? Hm, let’s see.” Though the mask is fierce, its wearer is nothing but a portly old man, his round belly poking out like a drum before him. He gives me a kind smile before he scans the crowd. “I saw