She looked to the mask rather plaintively; now, more than ever, she needed her fierce face. She needed to imagine that her father was still there for her, ready to do things she couldn’t. In order to believe that, she needed to imagine his words as if the mask spoke them.
“How many sons never came home to their mothers because of Selene? And how many fathers never returned to their daughters? You know what Honorius told you. This woman doomed people to feel exactly how you felt, Alathea, yet did she not get to stay with her father to the end of his days?”
Alathea wept. It was good that she hadn’t yet dared to apply gold dust or makeup. She knew it would come to this. It all had to come out now, when the prisoner couldn’t witness the vulnerability for a second time.
“No parent, no child, no one in the world should ever have to feel that way. That world, that shining future, is what I always wished I could give you. Now I’ll never leave you alone, because you need me. Embody me once again. Remain clean of this evil; you’re too good for it. Wash the tears from your cheeks. Put on my face that never weeps.”
Alathea vigorously washed her face and glared at her reflection in the polished brass. She needed to be ready. A sinner needed to be punished.
“She thought you were her entertainment. Let’s show her how you play with dolls.”