“Get the mask, dear. And stop being ridiculous. You said yourself that we were going to wait for this young man to return. Now he has. I don’t know what’s come over you.”
Celia spun on the woman, her eyes flashing. Then, she deflated, and nodded.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what…I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for, dear. Just go get the mask for Solomon.”
Celia rose to her feet and slowly walked from the room. Solomon watched her go, his anger fading. Her outburst had nothing to do with him. Not really. She was obviously exhausted and had been through the wringer.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, when she returned and handed him the white mask without a word.
He looked through it, the same way Celia had described. He could see the whole room as clearly as if eyeholes were cut into it, rather than being a solid, cold piece of porcelain. The view was different, though. The light was dimmer through it, and he could feel the wrongness of the thing.
It was like everything he saw was off. Celia’s beauty faded, her tiredness emphasized so that huge dark circles were around her eyes, her hair lay flat and her mouth twisted into a sullen frown.
He looked past the mask at her, not through it. Yes, she was still tired, but not to that extent. Looking through the mask again, that vision of her, beaten down and drawn, returned.
It was the same for all when he turned the mask to them. Friedrich’s anger came out in a massive scowl and blazing eyes. Greta’s sorrow turned her into a visage of silent wailing. The kids were terrified, lost, and hurt.
Yet, without the mask they all appeared normal. Sure, Friedrich was angry and Greta sad. Of course, they were. Celia was tired, but not to the point of total exhaustion.
It was as if the mask took all the darkness inside of them and brought it to the surface. Everyone had their dark places, their inner selves, that they didn’t want anyone else to see. The mask intensified it, made everything seen through it miserable. Made it all seem like the darkness was…
Solomon stopped and lowered the mask.
“What?” Friedrich asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Yah-Morah’s voice echoed in his mind. Use it when the darkness is closing in…
He reached to his belt, where he’d hung the sack of tea she’d given him.
“I might have something that will help, after all,” he said.
Chapter 67
The walk from Glittering Birch to Whispering Pines took more than three hours. Jocasta’s horse was nowhere to be found when she left the main tree of the compound, a fact that didn’t surprise her in the least.
But the time gave her an opportunity to think, something she felt she hadn’t been doing enough of over the last few days. She reviewed everything that occurred since getting Childress’s message.
She had been happy on the Southern Seas, in charge of her own ship, exploring the world and turning a healthy profit. The Greenweald and House Whispering Pines only entered her mind occasionally, usually when her height was commented on. It wasn’t that she had a bad childhood; it was that she was different. The trees, that everyone else claimed to be able to feel and communicate with, were silent to her. They were nice, sure, but they were only trees.
That difference made her stand out, and she had a hard time forming meaningful relationships with anyone. She never knew her father, a rarity in the Greenweald, but got the impression that he was from a lower class. Her mother, who raised her in the best way she could, never wanted to speak of him.
Her mother died when she was still young, so Jocasta left and never looked back. And when she got her first glimpse of the sea, she knew she’d made the right decision. Then, the message came. Florian was dead, and Celia, lost ever before Florian. Thaddeus, the only remaining member of their line other than her, was missing, presumed dead.
An alien feeling stole over her. One of familial duty. Her mother had never seen her accomplishments, even if she wouldn’t have totally understood them, or what was so appealing about the shipboard life she’d chosen for herself. Maybe it was that thought, that neither her mother, nor anyone else from the Greenweald, recognized what it was she had done, that drove her to return.
Or maybe it was simple greed at the thought of running House Whispering Pines the way she wanted. Being in charge of a ship was one thing. Ruling a Great House of the Greenweald, quite another.
Whatever the reason, she returned and took up the challenge of running the House, only to find constant interference from the pack of fools on the council. Childress included. No, she decided, striding along, she’d done the right thing. They needed to be replaced.
It was then, though, that things started to fall apart. Whispering Pines had never asserted its rightful place. It bowed to Glittering Birch, which everyone said was only right. Maybe she could have accepted that, if every House did it. Towering Oaks did not. And what was worse, Towering Oaks assumed it had the right to command fealty from Whispering Pines.
Yes, Florian and Jediah were childhood friends, but it was a lopsided relationship from what she could tell. Jediah spoke and Florian listened.
No, everything up to that point was as it should be. Jocasta had made hard choices to ensure the continuation of Whispering Pines. And if those plans had solidified her own position, what of it? Fortune favors the bold. Someone needed to do it.
Her mistake was in abandoning the House and going to Glittering Birch. There was no ally to be gained there, nothing that would help her House stand
