The mask was beautiful, but that was not why Jasmine's heart caught in her throat when she had first seen Lief wearing it. The mask had twisted his fine features into harsh parodies of what lay underneath. For a moment she had not seen the boy she loved, but a strange and terrible creature that wore his skin.
When the panic in the Masked One's camp began, Jasmine clasped Barda's large hand, unwilling to be separated from him, too. She swung around, desperate to find Lief. It was impossible to focus on anything amid the nightmare that had unfolded. Some people ran, screaming as poison rained down upon them. Others crumpled to the ground, too afflicted by the burning poison to do anything but wait to die. In the middle of the chaos stood Lief. The soft feathers on the edges of his mask fluttered with each person who ran by, and his lips were bared in a terrible grin that made Jasmine's heart ache.
"There, Barda!" she screamed, and together they ran to him. A moth aimed a stream of poison at them that singed a line through the hair on Jasmine's arm, but she did not pause. Barda let go of her hand and pushed Lief roughly off his feet. Lief's head hit the ground with a dull thud, and he cried out. Barda ignored this, and pressed Lief's shoulders harder into the muddy grass.
"Get the mask off of him!" Barda roared as Lief thrashed underneath him. "Get it off!"
Jasmine tugged at the feathered edges around Lief's hairline. It was useless, the mask clung to his skin as if it were part of his flesh. Agony twisted in her belly. She met Barda's dark eyes, and he nodded grimly. With shaking fingers, Jasmine slipped her fingernails under the mask's edge. It had not yet bonded with Lief's face the way it had for the true Masked Ones, and she managed to find her grip. Hardening her heart, she dug in her fingernails and tugged up. Lief's scream of pain and rage broke her heart. Sobs began to choke her, and hot tears fell in drops against the mask, but Jasmine did not stop.
"I am s-sorry," she sobbed, and tugged again. With a deeply nauseating tearing sound, the left half of the mask ripped away. Lief screamed with pain, his hands twisting into stiff claws. Patches of skin on his jawline and cheekbone and been torn off, and blood covered Jasmine's hands to her wrists. He lashed out and caught her lip with his fingernail. For a terrible moment his wild eyes met hers, burning with hate and pain. Then they rolled back into his head, as he— mercifully— blacked out. With another exhausted sob, Jasmine leaned over him and pressed her fingers to his cheek as she pulled the rest of the mask away. It came away easier that the first half, tearing only at the bridge of his nose and beside his lips. Panting heavily, Jasmine threw the mask into the dark, where it was lost under panicked feet.
The fire was dying, but Jasmine did not care to tend to it. Her face was stiff with mud and Lief's blood, but she could not bring herself to wash. Instead she gazed at Lief, who lay before the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across his face. He breathed heavily, his nose thick with tears and blood.
She and Barda had settled Lief and raised a small camp by the time the Happy Vale clock struck one o'clock. Before two bells they had realized with horror that the Belt was missing, and Barda had gone after the Masked Ones. It had not been a question as to who would stay behind with Lief. Jasmine listened as the clock struck three o'clock. The sun would not rise for several hours, and it would bring consequences with it. She was sick to her stomach with fear and uncertainty. Would Barda take back the Belt? Would Lief recover? Would he forgive her for what she had done?
She pressed her knuckles hard against her lips. The dull chime of the village clock echoed endlessly in her mind. She crawled on her hands and knees to Lief's side and laid a gentle hand on the curve of his cheek. The blood had finally dried, turning his face into yet another mask. She traced her hand just above one of the wounds. The places where the skin had been torn away were dark and angry, and there was no doubt they would scar. Jasmine's hand began to tremble, and she pulled away. By the light of the fire she could see his blood dried under her fingernails.
"Enough," she whispered, steeling herself. She reached into one of her many pockets and pulled a vial of healing paste she had prepared before they had left Del. It was based on one of her mother's recipes, only slightly changed, for some of the herbs could only be found in the Forests of Silence.
She waited for her fingers to still, and then dipped them into the paste, spreading the ointment across Lief's wounds with careful fingers. His skin was rough and sticky, and every time she touched him she remembered the way her fingernails had bit into his torn flesh. But she forced herself to swallow her revulsion and continue her work.
As she tended to a wound above his brow, Lief's eyes began to flicker and open. Jasmine gasped and pulled away as he blinked hazy eyes. His mouth twisted as if in agony and he let out a low groan.
"It is alright," Jasmine's eyes filled with tears again. His hands stiffly reached for his face, but she pushed them back down before he could disturb the wounds or the ointment.
"Jasmine?" his voice was raspy, as if it hurt to talk, and his words were laced with a confusion that made him sound painfully young.
"I am here," she promised, holding on tight to his hand. "You must rest now, Lief."
His unfocused eyes wandered to the cut on her lip. "Did I do that to you?"
"No," she said, half a truth, "it was not you."
"Jasmine?" he asked again, as if he could not hear her. His dark eyes glittered in the firelight. "I am sorry-"
"There is nothing to be sorry for," she whispered fiercely, tears rolling down her cheeks. I should be the one asking for your forgiveness.
"You are here with me," he slurred. His eyelids looked heavy, and finally they were dragged shut.
"I am," she told him still holding onto his hand, as he fell back to sleep. White-hot anger bubbled in her stomach. How cruel it was, that Lief offered the world nothing but light, and never received anything in return. She was glad that Bess was dead but wished only that the rest of the Masked Ones had shared her fate.
You cannot place the blame on them alone, a small voice in her head said. Although the Shadowlord had long since lost access to her mind, she could not hide from her own guilt and shame. You let them take him. And it was you who caused him this pain.
Jasmine pressed her hand against her lips and muffled a single, shaking sob. She breathed heavily until she collected herself, and picked up the vial of ointment. Her body felt heavy and her eyes treacherously threatened to close. She applied another layer of the poultice to the worst of Lief's wounds, and then brushed his dirty hair away from his forehead. His sleep looked a little less troubled, and although Jasmine's heart was heavy and her mind filled with worry, she lowered herself down to the ground. A moment of rest was all she sought, nothing more. But sleep dragged her down quickly, and in all her dreams she could feel the blood underneath her fingernails.
Years later, as they watched their young children play in the forge's wild garden, Jasmine turned to Lief and asked him if he remembered waking that night.
"No," Lief admitted after a long moment. "But I remember waking in the morning. I was confused, and in pain, but then I saw you sleeping on the ground beside me. I was frightened, but you were there, and I did not feel so afraid. You keep me safe, Jasmine. You always have."
She brushed her calloused thumb across the scar on his nose, and she smiled.