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“Of course.”
Stephen let him complete his exit, then let out a breath of relief. Whether or not he would be able to coax any useful information out of Kai remained to be seen. Thoughts of Liora accompanied the summery puffs of air drifting across his body and tousling his hair, and he committed to his next quest.
***
The indistinguishable blob of pitch-black paint gradually took on a more recognizable form. Stephen had spent time making a brief sketch before starting the portrait, but Kai chose to stay outside with him throughout more of the artistic process. He sat on a crumbling stone bench, his back straight and his sharp-clawed hands resting on his knees. The only sign of movement was the occasional blink, or a twitch of his tail to shoo away an unwanted insect.
The hard planes of his fur-covered body tested Stephen’s artistic prowess, yet he welcomed the change of pace from his more monotonous chores around the castle. The goal of eliciting more information from Thirvar’s closest confidant lingered between them, and he tried to make subtle small talk while he painted. Kai spoke of his many travels by Thirvar’s side. He described lands which pushed the boundaries of Stephen’s imagination and occasionally diverted his attention away from the paintbrush.
Liora fit into these tales, somehow; he was certain of it. Extracting her true role without revealing any hidden intentions would be risky. His curiosity had reached its limits, though, and he was ready to face any consequences that could stem from his investigation. Following one of the tales of adventure, Stephen took his chance. “You’ve seen so many things in your life,” he said, letting the awe creep into his words. “How long has it been since you first met Lord Thirvar?”
“Years. Decades. When they first found me, I was half the size I am now, no taller than the bush at the corner of the yard.”
He had difficulty imagining a cuddly cub in place of the fierce feline before him. Shaking his head, he moved on. “You told me before it wasn’t Thirvar who rescued you. I have to know…” His voice dropped to a low, pleading whisper. “Was it Liora? The woman who brought me here?”
The narrow tail stopped mid-flick. Stephen was sure he had committed a grave crime by mentioning his secret love and half-expected to be tossed back into the dungeon. “No,” the cat said. “It was not Liora.”
The brush stopped moving over the canvas again, a lull descending on the sun-drenched patio. Neither man spoke, and Stephen busied himself with mixing an appropriate combination of paints on his palette. When he next looked up, he saw a strange expression had shaded his subject’s face.
“The first time I saw our master, he was accompanied by a woman. Or, rather, he was following her.” He stared at the ground. “The storm had been raging for four days, and I had hidden in a rocky alcove. I was cold, hungry, and ready to give up when she found me.”
Upon closer inspection, he noticed Kai’s eyes were glossy with unfallen tears. Not wanting to call attention to his emotional state, he resumed painting. Still, he needed to know the rest of the story. “Who was she?”
“Thirvar’s wife.”
He stopped mid-stroke, barely regaining his composure before smearing errant pigment across the wrong place. “I didn’t—”
“We do not speak of her. Mentions of her name are forbidden in Marindal.”
The brush swished across the canvas in a soothing rhythm. He was unsure of what to say in fear of punishment for breaking this newly-learned rule. “I can tell she meant a lot to you.”
“She was the loveliest person I’ve ever met,” he whispered. “She was kind and compassionate. The way she gazed at Thirvar with love in her eyes would warm the hearts of everyone in the room.”
Stephen didn’t know how a woman fitting that description could be so enamored with the fearsome ruler, but he assumed there were more details. “What happened? Where is she now?”
“Gone. Not even Thirvar could save her.” Kai sniffled, a delicate, melancholy sound which didn’t seem natural coming from him.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence shrouded the patio, and Stephen painted on. When the sun dipped too far below the horizon to provide him with adequate lighting, he set down his tools. “It’s getting dark,” he said softly.
Without further comment, the other man stood up and slipped back into the castle, his padded feet making no sound on the fractured stones. Stephen stretched out the muscles in his back before gathering his materials. He’d gained some insight into the history of Marindal, but the little he’d learned only led to more questions.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Liora was halfway up the tree before Stephen made his entrance into the dream. Though she had been making progress with her daily climbs while awake, she sometimes chose to hone her skill within the safety of the illusion. Upon his arrival, she skittered back down to the ground and greeted him with a long-awaited kiss.
He smiled and brushed her hair away from her forehead. Sinking into the tall grass, he leaned against the trunk of the tree, where she joined him. She rested her head on his chest, welcoming the arm he draped around her to hold her close. Imagining a life without his sincere, unaffected companionship was difficult, but she owed it to him to get him back home.
“Did you know Thirvar once had a wife?” Stephen abruptly asked.
“No.” The concept of a caring, loving Thirvar was foreign to her. “Where did you hear that?”
“Kai told me.”
“Interesting. What else did he have to say?”
His shoulder twitched in a shrug. “Not much. It seems to be a sensitive subject.”
