Masked

Chapter 7 HER

"Ouch!" I jump as the needle pierces my skin.

"Are you all right?" Mother asks while she rubs the side of my stomach.

"I'm fine. It didn't really hurt. It just startled me." I look out the open window. Several leaves on the trees outside are beginning their turn. It's hard to believe it's already autumn.

"Good. I'm sorry, but I did tell you to keep still. You're always fidgeting." She sighs and continues sewing the side of my dress.

I glance down at her and watch her work. The needle is pressed between her pursed lips as her blue eyes study the seam she's working on, her eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Several delicate braids wrap around her head, entwining her red curls in an elaborate spiral. Just imagining the time it took exhausts me.

Mother firmly grabs the light blue fabric of the dress with one hand and removes the needle from her mouth with the other.

"Now don't move, Addalynne. I'm going to sew the last few stitches. If you need to take a breath, now is the time to do it."

I laugh and take one last breath before letting it out and holding my body as still as a statue. After a few seconds, Mother pats me on the back.

"There. It's all done. Now take it off."

I watch as Mother flips it around, so that the seams are on the inside, before pulling it back over my head and walking me toward the mirror.

It really is beautiful. The color matches the blue of the sky and compliments my fair skin. The wide sleeves fall past my wrists, the material draping several inches beyond my hands. The fitted top has a square neckline that sits rather low and hugs my curves, displaying the fact that I'm no longer a little girl. The top leads down to my lower hips where the dress slightly billows out into a full skirt. Around my hips there's a thin, silver rope acting as a belt. A dagger would sit so nicely there.

"Thank you, Mother. It's beautiful."

"You're the one who makes it beautiful," she says with a smile. "Now tell me, which young men have caught your eye?"

I move away from the mirror and walk toward the window, feeling the early stirrings of agitation. Now that I'm sixteen, I'm near the proper marrying age, and Mother never fails to remind me.

"None, Mother." I reply curtly while staring toward the trees, counting the yellow and orange leaves that are dancing among the green. Anything is better than having my mind on this conversation.

"Addalynne, it's time you found yourself a potential husband."

A humorless chuckle escapes my lips. "I thought they were supposed to find me."

"They are, but I know you, and I wouldn't be surprised if many had already tried to get your attention, but you were too preoccupied to notice."

"What are you implying?" I spin around to face her. She's sitting on her bed, her hands folded calmly in her lap, one eyebrow raised in speculation. I cross my arms in front of me.

"Come now, Addalynne. Don't try to tell me that you don't spend every day with Drake."

Why does it matter if I do? "I do not! I spend plenty of time with Mary!" This isn't entirely true, but I won't give her the satisfaction of being right.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you were still spending time with the Bradlock girl," Mother replies, her face pinching with surprise. Good. Maybe now I can keep the conversation off me, and on the relationship between Gregory and Mary, which my mother is not yet aware of. I open my mouth to tell her, but she speaks first. "How does Drake feel about her diverting your time away from him?"