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edges of her lips. “But perhaps later.”

 
    3
    MASQUERADE
    Ellis set her jaw and started up the stairs. The treads were covered in a deep pile, crimson carpet held firmly in place by bright brass carpet runners. The mahogany railings on both sides were ornately carved and polished to a gleaming shine. The newel posts at the top of the railings each supported a golden candelabra, each of which was fitted with a plethora of small electric bulbs that filled the space with bright illumination. At the top of the stairs was a landing, the back wall of which was composed almost entirely of a stained glass window that rose nearly fifteen feet to the coffered ceiling overhead. It was a bright and inviting space that seemed to gently beckon her toward the upper rooms.
    Ellis took every step with dread.
    She wore the costume that Margaret had laid out for her. Despite Alicia’s repeated assurances that Ellis had chosen the costume herself, she had no memory of doing so.
    Ellis hesitated on the stairs and smiled grimly to herself. It would not have been the first thing that she had forgotten. Indeed, it seemed far more likely that she would have no memory of something than that she should recall it. Nevertheless, she felt certain that this would not have been a costume that she would have chosen for herself. The outfit was perfectly tailored to her form but there was something about this costume in particular—a black-on-white rendition of a clown—that she found distasteful and slightly obscene. But her own clothing was soaked and this was the only option that presented itself.
    Besides, she reminded herself, if one were to learn the rules of the game, one had to play the part.
    â€œEllis, are you all right?” Alicia, only a step or two behind her and slightly to her left, reached forward and took Ellis’s elbow in her hand as though to steady her.
    Ellis turned and smiled at Alicia, conveying a gentle humor that she did not feel. “Quite all right. Perhaps just a little overexcited.”
    Alicia, resplendent in her Egyptian accoutrements, smiled sweetly back at her in reply.
    I wonder if she is lying to me as much as I am lying to her, Ellis thought as she turned and continued up the staircase.
    Her eyes became fixed for a moment on the stained glass window. It was a beautiful design with an intricate, high level of detail. It was a curious depiction and yet somehow familiar. There were two figures: one each of a man and a woman. The man was shown wearing a powder-blue morning coat and pants while the woman was in a long gown of a matching color. They stood side by side with their arms extended slightly from their bodies, their palms facing outward. From their open hands, great swirling patterns of glass and color flowed, spiraling outward, forming patterns on either side of them that when taken together reminded Ellis of the wings of a lunar moth. As she reached the landing she could make out minute details embedded in the glass more clearly: ruins, castle towers, forests, jungles, desert dunes, schooners, along with buildings and towns of every era and description. One in particular caught her eye. It looked almost exactly like the home that she had occupied in Gamin with her cousin, Jenny, before the world had gone mad. Ellis leaned in closer as she thought she had seen figures moving in the glass depiction of her seaside home.
    â€œEllis, please hurry,” Alicia urged. “Everyone is waiting for you.”
    Ellis turned reluctantly away from the stained glass. The landing led to a pair of staircases on either side that doubled back to either side of a balustrade that overlooked the stairwell. Ellis could hear the loud clatter of her heels against the stone treads echoing about the stairwell. There seemed otherwise to be a terrible silence, as though the house itself were holding its breath.
    At the top of the stairs was a set of double doors with frosted glass into a pattern of leaded