Free Masks by E. C. Blake Page B

head with a smile. “No. He won’t tell me anything about your Mask. Says he wants it to be a surprise. Well, let’s make
this
a surprise for
him
. The first time he sees you in it, let it be on your birthday.”
    Mara laughed. “I can’t wait to see his face.” She looked down at herself. “I wish I had a mirror.”
    “Milady has only to ask,” her mother said. Mara had been so taken with the dress she hadn’t even noticed the tall, cloth-covered object in the corner. Her mother pulled the cloth away, revealing the full-length mirror that normally stood in her parents’ room, a marvelously clear glass that had been a gift from a wealthy merchant in appreciation for a particularly fine Mask made for his Gifted daughter.
    Mara looked at herself, and her breath caught in her throat. “I look like a grown-up!”
Well, a very
skinny
grown-up
, she amended. She needed to fill out quite a bit more in certain crucial areas before she could
really
show off the dress to its best effect.
    “Wait until we have your hair done properly, and add a necklace and bracelets,” her mother said. “And then the Mask . . .” She paused. “You know that the Autarch will likely be present for your Masking.”
    Mara’s breath caught. “What?” She turned to look at her mother in wonder.
    Her mother nodded. “It’s true. For the last few months he has made a point of attending the Maskings of the Gifted. Your father attends many as well, of course, as a guest of the family, and in appreciation for his work. He has seen the Autarch many times.” She started to say something else; then stopped. “Many times,” she repeated after a moment.
    Mara stared at her. “I never dreamed . . .”
    “It is a great honor,” her mother said.
    In that moment, Mara’s fears about the upcoming Masking evaporated. And the next few days, passing in a whirlwind of preparation, left no time for doubt. There were visits to the hairdresser, the manicurist . . . after which she began wearing shoes; she didn’t want to damage her toenails, which suddenly looked prettier than she’d ever imagined toenails
could
look . . . and the caterers. Two other children would be Masked at the same ceremony, but each family would hold its own separate reception afterward: and since Mara was the daughter of Tamita’s Master Maskmaker,
her
reception had to be top-tier, indeed.
    Yet through all the planning, the decorating of the house with strings of silver sequins and garlands of preserved passionflowers of red and yellow and white, one person remained conspicuously absent: her father.
    “Are you
sure
Daddy is all right?” Mara asked her mother as they worked in the kitchen just two days before the Masking. “The last time I saw him, he looked so tired.”
    Her mother, polishing silver at the washbasin, remained silent for a moment. “I told you,” she finally said. “He’s not ill. He’s just . . . preoccupied.” She put aside a gleaming knife and picked up a tarnished fork. “And I think I know why.”
    “Really?” Mara had her own polishing task: to make sure none of the crystal goblets had even the tiniest water spot to mar their glittering perfection. She lifted the one she held up to her eyes, peering critically through it at the window. “Why?”
    Her mother moved on to a spoon. “It’s you.”
    “Me?” Mara put down the goblet and stared at her. “Huh?”
    “You’re his little girl,” her mother said. “But after the Masking . . . well, you’ll still be his daughter. But you won’t be a little girl anymore. You’ll be an adult. You’ll wear your Mask whenever you go out, and before you know it there’ll be some young man courting you, and then . . .” She sighed. “It’s the way of the world, and there’s nothing to be done about it. But it’s hard. Hard for me, too. But I think it’s even harder for your father. For
all
fathers.”
    Mara picked up the next goblet and rubbed it with her soft white