Chapter 8
Clovia pressed her forehead to the red glass. “We should paint outside.”
I frowned. “But we never paint outside. That would make it obvious.”
“I don’t care. This is a poor choice for a paint parlor anyway.” Clovia left the window. “All you can see are stables and more tiresome roses.”
“Your taste in men concerns me,” Deedra said, swirling her brush across her canvas as though she were cleaning something.
Reclining over the leather divan, Clovia smiled at her sister. “And your lack of adventure concerns me.” She peered at me. “What say you about my taste, Ethel?”
Usually, I’d have plenty to say. However, usually Clovia wasn’t attempting to play with someone I wasn’t done playing with.
Of course, she didn’t know about Maxus and me. So being cruel wasn’t exactly fair.
Yet it took considerable effort to feign indifference. Shifting on the padded stool, I tilted my head and pretended to study the terrible sunset I’d started. “I say you are wasting expensive paint.”
Clovia huffed. “But painting is boring.”
“So is lying around,” I retorted, perhaps a tad too harshly.
“Rich,” she countered. “You adore lying around with those titillating books from your mother’s library.”
“Darling,” I said. “Reading is doing something.”
Clovia fluffed her layered pink skirts over her bent knees. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she let her arm drape toward the ground. “If Adythe were here, she’d be overflowing with excitement about my new liaison.”
That froze the blood in my veins.
“Liaison?” Deedra laughed out. “That guard has barely said ten words to you.”
“He’s a man of few words.” This time, Clovia’s sigh was genuine. Wistful. “Men in positions like his often are. They need to appear a certain way, you know,” she said. “Stoic, brusque, unfeeling…”
Her sister snorted.
Paint dribbled down the brush to my finger. I was too late to put it in the water pot, and cursed as a drop of bright blue fell onto my lacy lilac skirts.
Though it was futile, I quickly grabbed the cloth.
I’d yet to speak to Maxus. In the week since the betrothal ball, I’d hardly spoken to anyone. Last evening, my mother warned that it was time to quit sulking and leave my rooms—before my father began to ask questions I was in no mood to answer carefully.
Clovia and Deedra lived in the neighboring province, which made it rather easy to arrange visits on short notice. Adythe, on the other hand, lived closer to the city. With the exception of my father, of course, the king was the only one with the Pegasus at his disposal.
It took Adythe half an evening to visit. Not wanting her to stay, I’d been relieved when she’d sent a raven back, stating she had to decline.
Besides, without Adythe present, Clovia was less inclined to snap her fangs at me.
“Ethel.” Deedra laughed. “You’re going to scrub a hole in your skirts.”
“This gown is a favorite,” I said, and it was true.
But I ceased further rubbing the paint into the poor lace when I realized it wasn’t just that, nor my impending marriage, agitating me. I wasn’t sure what bothered me more—Clovia’s intent to pursue Maxus, or that she’d evidently only visited to see him.
One of the staff tapped on the parlor door.
“Ferla, thank goddess you’re here.” Deedra stuck her head out from behind her canvas. “Would you mind bringing us some more grapes?” Ducking back behind her painting of clouds, she said, “My sister has gobbled them all up.”
Frowning slightly, Ferla nodded. “Of course.” She then looked at me. “Ethelsia, you have a visitor.”
Confused, I set the cloth on the table beside me.
And nearly knocked a paint pot over when, not a moment after Ferla left the doorway, King Breyron filled it.
Clovia and Deedra immediately stood and scrambled into clumsy curtsies. After her sister had introduced herself to the vampire king, Clovia lifted her chin. “You do remember me, of course.”
Brey practically purred, “How does one ever forget the incomparable Lady Clovia Thaneton?”
Though Deedra blinked, as if she’d sensed the sarcasm in the king’s lilted tone, her sister’s smile only brightened.
Before Clovia could say anything more, Brey looked over at me. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
Clinging to her apricot and pink skirts, Deedra swayed side to side. “Nothing but leisure, Your Majesty.”
Elbowing Deedra, Clovia said, “Nothing at all.”
The king still looked only at me, yet he smirked as if noting their nervousness. “I fear you’re lying to me.”
Deedra gasped.
Clovia frowned.
I stayed seated and pretended to find my lackluster ocean sunset suddenly interesting.
“You are painting,” Brey explained. He swept a hand toward their abandoned easels. “The creation of art is exceedingly important.”
“Exceedingly, yes,” Deedra agreed, nodding vigorously.
Pursing her pink lips, Clovia looked at me. She then narrowed her eyes, a twinkle within, and gathered her wavy wheat-colored hair over one shoulder. “It’s just that…” Looking back at the king, she said demurely, “Well, I’m rather dreadful at it, I’m afraid.”
“She is,” Deedra said, still swaying slightly.
I bit my lips to keep from snorting.
Clovia sauntered close to the king. “I hear you create breathtaking art.” Her voice lowered as she added, “Majesty.”
Brey finally removed his gaze from me to raise a brow at my friend. “Do you now?”
Nodding, Clovia dared to stand a mere few inches from my betrothed. A calculated move. She was the tallest of my friends, which gave her the ability to block my view of the king. All I could see were his eyebrows, his forehead, and his unbound hair.
As if sharing a scandalous secret, Clovia whispered, “The way you dress that offering stone with limbs and such.”
Deedra blanched and looked at me with wide eyes.
I shook my head, just slightly, to let her know all was fine. I doubted Brey would verbally lash my bold friend for disclosing rumors about him and the offering stone.
Indeed, Brey chuckled. “It’s true that I like to make an effort for our great mother, yes, just as I should.
However…” As if he were also sharing a secret, his voice quietened.
“They are not body parts. I give those to the river serpent. Her name is Tulip, though I doubt she’s aware because I named her myself.
Probably for the best, as I’d wager she wouldn’t approve. ”
Clovia gave no response.
And oh, how I wished I could have heard one or seen her expression.
“But I digress.” Brey went on. “I place organs on the stone. Entrails are my favorite. You can do so much with them, you see. Especially with the seashells I like to collect and…” Trailing off, he said, “I apologize. I’ve given you a bit of a spiel, and I believe you might have been trying to tell or ask me something? ”
Deedra’s unblinking eyes continuously darted between the king and her sister and me.
But if Brey thought Clovia had lost interest in attempting to lure him into a trap, he was about to be very sorry he’d even endeavored to dissuade her.
So I finally spoke. “Clovia is hoping you might like to assist her with her painting, but she will need to wait, as I need some help with mine.”
She turned to glare at me.
Brey didn’t hesitate. He glided around my friend and the easels. This evening, he wore brown britches and boots. A cream shirt flowed over his forearms and torso. His enticing scent reached me before he did.
Panicked, I stood. I gestured to my stool and tried to steal Clovia’s.
“Where will I sit?” she asked, aghast.
She wasn’t interested in painting, and we both knew it. But I merely murmured, “Apologies, I wasn’t thinking,” then returned to the king.
Without looking, I lowered onto his lap.
Brey tensed.
So did I. Stiffly, I picked up my brush and inwardly berated myself. How I was going to escape this, I didn’t know.
Especially when he placed a hand on my waist and seemed to relax beneath me.
As if noticing my discomfort, Clovia smirked. “I think this is our sign to leave, Deedy.” Walking over, she gave my cheek a quick kiss before fluttering her lashes at the king. “A pleasure, as always, Majesty.”
Deedra did the same, but whispered before she drew away, “Clovia was only jesting, Ethel. You know that.”
She hadn’t been jesting at all. We both knew she was still irked about the king choosing me—choosing anyone—over her. We both knew that if Brey had decided to humor her, she would only have encouraged him to humor her more.
Still, I nodded and watched as they curtsied to their king again.
I waited until I was sure they were gone before turning to Brey. Amused, I said, “You look like you just survived a close encounter with the serpent you’ve named Tulip.”
“I believe I did.”
A laugh parted my pursed lips.
Sobering, I couldn’t resist noticing how his shirt’s undone ribbon ties revealed a smattering of raven chest hair and a glimpse of his firm pectoral. Averting my eyes to the easel, I set the paintbrush down and made to stand.
His hand dropped to my hip, stopping me. “You keep intriguing company.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, nor that I liked his tone. “They’ve been good friends of mine since I matured.”
Brey hummed.
And I forgot all about the hand at my hip, all about Deedra and Clovia, as he tilted his head to examine every horrid brushstroke I’d made on the canvas before us.
“That’s not mine,” I blurted.
“Oh?” Suppressed laughter drenched his voice. “I could have sworn you were sitting right here when I arrived.”
Instantly flushed, I looked across the parlor so he wouldn’t see the mortification rising up my neck into my cheeks. Too busy trying to hide my face, I didn’t know the king had taken my paintbrush until I heard the whisper of it meeting canvas.
“Now, if that were my painting, then you’ve just…” I fell quiet when I realized he wasn’t ruining it.
He was adding a darker blue where the ocean met the sun.