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“I’m taking care of it.” He let go of my hand and headed for the door.
I stepped forward, reaching for him. “Wait, where are you going?”
Caius paused, looking over his shoulder. “I have someone I need to see. Or rather I need to know what she sees.”
“What?” I was so confused.
He left without another word and Styx groaned, rolling her eyes. “Why he trusts the goat lady, I’ll never know.”
“What goat lady?”
Chapter29
Caius
“Are we there yet?” Reagan asked with a nervous laugh.
My hands cupped over her eyes to keep her from seeing where we were going. We walked awkwardly at a slow pace, her arms oscillating from outstretched to feel in front of her, to touching my arms and holding on for balance.
“Shhh, we’re almost there.”
She groaned, not truly frustrated, but impatient all the same. “Can I just look? I feel like I’m going to fall.”
“I won’t let you.”
“That’s not how that works.” Her protests were cute. They also had no impact. “You can’t control gravity ... unless there’s some god-power you possess, and you haven’t told me about it yet.”
I chuckled to myself.
She paused, turning her head as if she were able to look at me. “Wait, can you?”
“No. Now pay attention, or you’re going to fall,” I said, giving her a nudge forward.
“You literally just said you won’t let me!”
“I won’t but you gotta help out. I can’t do all the work,” I teased. I felt Reagan’s mouth lift in a smirk.
“Guess you’re not all that powerful.”
I snorted. “Nice try, but goading me won’t work either, mate.”
I led her through the propped open door and nudged the door stopper out of the way with my foot. It swung shut behind us, closing with a soft click. I navigated her to the center of the studio.
“Are we there?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, but keep them closed,” I said, removing my hands from her eyes. Taking a step back, I angled myself so that I could watch her face. “Okay, now.”
Reagan slowly opened her eyes and took in the room. A moment of awe struck her before a thousand-watt smile formed, and I knew in that moment it was all worth it.
In the tallest tower that we’d mostly used for storage, I’d had all the furniture taken out. In its place was an artist’s studio. Small tables filled with supplies sat near easels and rows of canvases I’d lined along the walls. A large cloth lined the floor beneath it all. Letting out a stuttered breath, she turned to me for an explanation.
“This room is yours. It has the best moonlight,” I said, pointing to a natural skylight in the rock. “Everything you need should be here, but if I missed something, just tell me.”
“Where did you get all this?”
“I had it all made. Clara said you liked painting, so I went to the best tradespersons in the nearest village. I don’t know at all what I’m doing, but I think you’ll find that they’re extremely high quality.”
“And the brushes? The canvases?” she asked, touching the bristles lightly.
