Page 88 of A Kingdom of Magic and Rain

The dove fluttered up and perched on the railing, patiently waiting for me to approach it. I reached for one of the twig legs and untied the note secured to it.

Good evening, Emelin, my beautiful queen, if you wish to see my handsome face (because who wouldn’t), meet me by the fountain.

“He’s so cheeky.” I chuckled.

The bird released a short chirp in response before flying away. Finn was so confident that I would come, he hadn’t even asked for a reply. He had still drawn a map to the fountain for me, and even though I was fairly confident that I remembered the way, I took the note with me anyway. I couldn’t leave it in my room where it could potentially be discovered by others.

Down the hallway, turn right, down another hallway, left, down the staircase to the first floor. I navigated the castle a few minutes later. When I had reached the first floor, I stepped outside into the gardens and started down the path that led to the fountain.

With my gaze not glued to a map, I was able to admire my surroundings as I walked in the warm night air under the silvery moonlight. I was almost to my destination when a copse of trees to my left caught my attention as a subtle orange glow cut through the trunks. The light was barely noticeable, and I would have missed it if I hadn’t turned my head to the left at the exact moment I was passing by it. I halted by the spot, unsure if I should investigate. Who knew what I would find in these woods. I looked in the direction of the fountain. Finn was waiting for me. But what lay behind the trees? Curiosity getting the best of me, I entered the tree line. The orange glow grew brighter as I carefully walked a few steps. As I was about to break through on the other side, I froze, hiding in the shadows as I took in the sight before me.

A massive sycamore tree sat in the middle of a glade, its broad, irregular crown reaching for the faint stars, that were being washed out by the nearly full moon. The tree’s sturdy, heavy branches spread out over the clearing, and from one of them—the one that was almost parallel to the ground—hung a rustic, wooden swing. It was illuminated from below by two oil lamps sitting nearby on the forest floor. The swing wasn’t empty as Adrian was occupying it, with an open book in his lap. His gaze was on the pages, his thick raven lashes shielding those striking silver eyes.

Stars, he was beautiful. Finn was beautiful, too, but his beauty had a superficial sheen. He knew that he was handsome and used his looks for his advantage. Adrian’s beauty was different. It was timeless. He didn’t need to flaunt it.

Beauty doesn’t have to be loud to be exquisite. He had spoken the words about me, but I could say the same about him.

Finn weaponized his looks, and I had no doubts that many girls fell for the shiny facade. I was on the verge of becoming one of those girls—I glanced at the note in my hand. But I had a choice to make. Did I want to be one of those girls, or did I want to be the one?

When I looked back at Adrian, one side of his mouth turned up, even though his gaze didn’t stray from the book. For a second I thought that what he was reading had caused the reaction until he said, “Are you going to join me? I would love it if you did.” He lifted his eyes from the pages and immediately found me in the shadows.

Give him a chance. My mother’s words floated up from the recesses of my mind. They guided me as I crumpled the note, hiding it in my palm, and stepped out of the trees. When I approached the swing, I realized that the lamps on the ground didn’t burn oil. Flickering fire orbs danced inside them instead.

A look of relief flitted across Adrian’s face before he schooled his features. “What are you doing out?” he asked as I perched beside him on the swing.

“Just getting fresh air,” I replied, the lie souring my throat. “You?”

Looking away from me, he lifted his left hand and wrapped his fingers around the thick worn rope holding up the swing, studying it for a moment. “I built this swing when I was fifteen. This part of the gardens became my sanctuary on the days when the world was too much.”

“Is that why you’re out here tonight? The world is too much?”

“No. The opposite. It’s not enough…without you in it.” He looked at me.

My chest constricted. “Adrian⁠—”

“I know I need to give you time, but I…I miss you.”

I missed him, too. I missed us from before. Sitting beside him, I could pretend that we were back in the library at Bradford Manor. And wasn’t it what my mother had advised that I do? Pretend?

“I’m here now,” I said with a soft smile. “Will you read to me?”

His face lit up. “Of course.” He cleared his throat before he looked down at the book and started reading.

Pretend. I turned toward him and rested my back against the rope. The sound of his measured voice took me back in time as if he had glimmered us to the library. Suppressing a contented sigh, I closed my eyes, picturing the cozy oversized sofa and the crackling fire in the hearth. I was comfortable and warm, Adrian’s presence soothing the hole in my chest that only I could see.

When my eyes snapped open, I was lying on a plush mattress. I blinked, slowly realizing that I was in my room, which was cast in shadows, a beam of moonlight crossing my bed. I must have drifted off to sleep, and Adrian must have brought me here… Finn’s note rested on the pillow next to me. I bolted upright as my heart sank.

My gaze shot to the door that led to Adrian’s room. He had seen the note, I was sure of it. I had to talk to him, to explain. I scrambled out of the bed and made my way to the door. My heart hammering in my chest, I reached for the handle. What if he had locked me out? I sucked in a breath and twisted the handle. A shuddering exhale left me when the door opened. The relief I felt was quickly replaced by crippling anxiety. What was I supposed to say? How could I explain? I suddenly felt sorry for myself, for being in this situation, but I only had myself to blame.

My bare feet pattering on the stone floor, I walked into Adrian’s bedroom. The place was bathed in a yellow glow from the lamp on the nightstand, but the four-poster bed was empty. I looked around the spacious room decorated in shades of gray and dark blue. The setup was similar to mine, with balcony doors to the left of the bed. The blue curtains were open, allowing for the moonlight to drift in, illuminating the easel in the corner. A painted canvas sat on the easel, and my curiosity rose as I stepped toward it. A portrait of a woman—step—blonde hair—step—golden eyes—step— My hand flew up to my mouth as I stopped breathing. The painting was a portrait of me.

“How do you see me?”

“To me, you are the brightest star, more luminous than the entire stellar sea above us. You are magnificent, inside and out, with a gentle heart that bleeds for your people. There is a light inside you that you don’t realize you possess, capable of guiding me out of the shadows even in the darkest hour.”

Tears spilled as I stood before the canvas, unable to look away. The painting wasn’t a reflection of my beauty, but rather the beauty of the one who had created it. Adrian had poured his feelings onto the canvas, transforming it into the highest form of praise. The portrait was a testament, an ode, a tribute, and my heart was so full I thought it might burst.

“I was going to give it to you on our wedding day,” came Adrian’s voice from behind me.