“Go see him,” Rul whispered in her ear, goosebumps prickling along her skin. “Thank him for the painting supplies. He likes to feel appreciated.”
“Fine,” she huffed, getting out of the bed when she realized that he wouldn’t let it go. “I’ll say thank you. But I’m sure it will only upset him.”
“Nonsense!” he shouted dramatically, calling to her as she waved him off and walked out the door. “Good luck!”
Isabelle trembled as she stood outside the door, one of the mannequin servants–who had appeared out of nowhere to escort her to Bellinor’s study–giving her a final nod before turning the knob.
She stepped into the dark space, the door shutting swiftly behind her. She wished Rul was here as she examined the room, every nerve on edge.
It looked like a posh office, bookshelves filled with dusty tomes lining the walls, candlelight bathing everything in the same eerie glow that filled all of le Jardin. There was a small table with two chairs and a stone chess set eagerly awaiting players.
Bellinor sat at the large desk at the back of the space, eyes glued to a book on the tabletop, not even bothering to look at her.
He was as close to the beast in the forest as she’d seen since she’d been in le Voile, with light blue skin and feathery wings curled around him as he hunched over the desk. The eyes dotting the feathers stared at her, unblinking, and his hair was neat, not the wild tendrils she remembered from the chase. The only thing missing was the jagged smile carved into his face from when he had cornered her in the woods, and when he had visited her in her dreams.
“Do you need something, my dear?” he asked as she approached the desk.
“I wanted to thank you for the paints.”
Bellinor tore his attention from the book, eyeing her with suspicion.
“You don’t have to thank me for something you do not like.”
How had he come to that conclusion? Did heenjoybeing upset about everything?
“I do like them.”
He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“And yet you spend all of your time fucking Rul.”
Now it was her turn to scoff.
“If you stopped by to see me, you’d know that I’ve made progress on my painting. I got frustratedyesterday, and Rul offered to… help me relax. That’s all. I don’t usually paint still lifes.”
Bellinor nodded, though his eyes were narrowed as if he didn’t believe her.
“What do you normally like to paint?” he finally asked.
She could tell he was trying to look uninterested, flipping through the heavy book, but his eyes kept drawing to her like he was eagerly awaiting her answer.
“Landscapes, mostly. My forest,” she said, making her way up to the desk and sitting on the tabletop right next to his seat.
His gaze traced up her legs and body until it met her face, a strange expression overcoming him. She didn’t know what she was doing or what she wantedhimto do, but was perfectly aware of how much her body felt electrified when she was in his presence.
“I’m going to try to finish the painting, though,” she added, uncomfortable with the silence. “Rul said I just need more practice.”
Bellinor nodded, his mouth pursed in thought.
“You two seem to get along quite well,” he noted, again pulling his gaze away from her and trying to look busy by skimming the worn pages of the book.
The thought that she wasgetting alongwith a demon who was complicit in her kidnapping made her sick to her stomach, especially because it was true. She’d never really had a friend, someone to spend time with and talk to, one that didn’t revolve around her devotion to the temple.
“Does that make you jealous?” she asked, lamenting the words as soon as they left her mouth.
Well, she had his full attention again, his brows furrowed into a glare.
“If I’mjealous, it’s simply because he connects with all our playthings with such ease. You’re no different from the others.”
