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“You can thank me later,” Talen said then bit into a muffin.
“I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“Anything for my queen.” He gestured to the canvas. “Any particular place you want me to send this? King Bastian’s, perhaps?” He grinned wickedly, and I thought of the note I’d tossed over the balcony.
“No.” I finished cleaning my brushes to begin a second painting. “I’d rather that particular king remain oblivious to my imprisonment.” I switched the finished piece with a blank canvas. Something about the beige fabric stirred excitement in me with its promise. While I’d painted many pieces before, I’d never envisioned their potential would be as dramatic as my chance of survival.
Talen opened the balcony doors again to let the crisp air in. “Little chance of that, my Queen. The entire realm is abuzz with news of your ill-fated chess match, leaving you no opportunity to hide your misfortune from the fae. They’ll know you were bested. Even King Bastian.”
I groaned as I leaned over in my seat, resting my forehead against my hand.
“But,” Talen continued, “no one will know your confinement has been reduced to three months, and those conditions will remain a secret. When you emerge three months sooner than expected, you will be a phoenix clothed in power and hungry for revenge, and redemption will be yours. I’ll make certain of it.”
To appear before the realm when no one expected me would be a sight, and that alone lifted my spirits. Talen was a miracle worker I didn’t deserve. I would fiercely guard the secret of my early release to make it as dramatic of a return as possible.
Then I’d pray Brock’s second favor was a kinder one.
“How?” I asked breathlessly.
Talen passed a finger by his lips. “Some things remain a secret, even from you, my Queen.”
I faced the easel once more to start the new piece. “Whatever that must have cost you, thank you.”
He sat off to one side as I worked, making content noises in the back of his throat when a new color graced the canvas or when they blended to form something unique. His sounds stopped after a while, and for the next half hour he sat in silence so still I almost forgot he was there until he bent down and took hold of my first painting.
“It might not be dry.” I quickly checked for smudged fingerprints along the edges of the starry sky or the bottom where the sand coated the island. Talen wiggled his fingers to prove they were clean.
“What was it like there?” He ran a thumb over the island that stared up at the fae realm. “It looks charming.”
I gave a short laugh. “On the other four islands, maybe. I’ll never know. But the center island was built for battle, and we were trained accordingly.”
“You’re a warrior?”
It pleased me that he’d think such a thing. But I shook my head. “No. I was going to leave the center island the day after the Choosing Ceremony. I didn’t belong on the center island.” I set my brush down to turn on my seat, sliding my feet back into my slippers. “Though, no matter where I’d go, there was one trait that ran true across all islands, and that was our love for this unknown place.” I tapped the fae realm, painted over the clouds. “We adore you.”
Talen soaked in the sight of the painting. “It’s odd. We adore our queens, just as you adore us.”
“Obsessed might be the better word,” I clarified. “We were wholly taken with the realm we knew nothing of, and every girl wanted to be chosen to live among creatures more beautiful than the night.”
Talen’s expression changed, and he lowered the painting. “And now?”
“Now?”
“You grew up adoring us. What do you think of our realm now?”
I shifted back to my painting, not answering until I’d found the right words. When they came, they were soft and wistful. “Now I wish I’d taken my brothers and run away to Ruen a long time ago.”
Either to give me space or to fulfill his claimed duties, Talen spent the week away while I filled my room with paintings until the canvases were alive with every color the realm had to offer—an array of my messages written over and over, hidden in the current of a river, tucked in the crest of a flower, or laced in the dark of the sky. Anything a Mortal Queen’s descendant might find.
I’d drawn both the fae and mortals over and over, but the next live being I saw came with a tap at the window.
Bash stood behind the glass with his face painted gold again. He tapped his foot.
I’d been in bed holding Antonio while channeling every memory of Cal and Malcom possible. Bash eyed the soldier toy as I set it aside. I tightened my thick robe and opened the door.
“Good evening,” I said cautiously. The last I’d seen of him, I’d forced him to bow before me in front of the realm. I searched his brown eyes for traces of animosity.
His chariot bobbed behind him in little circles, and his long cloak nearly touched the floor. The buckle on it was silver as was the ring in his nose. I hadn’t seen him wear that particular piece of jewelry yet.
