I trained my eyes on hers.
“What do you see?”
I looked at the green orbs that made up her eyes, looked deeper for anything I could pick out. I couldn’t at first, but as I shifted my head it became clearer. There was a certain quiet resilience held within them, almost like she was waiting for something, or waiting for someone to decide her fate for her.
“Something’s coming for her,” Patrick said, his eyes on me.
I nodded, staring at Persephone. And when I held that stare I could see it.
“Heartbreak.”
“Good.” Patrick nodded, before fully turning to me. “Persephone is the prisoner, caught between two worlds and longing for something she knows she can’t return to. No matter how much she wants to let go, she can’t.”
I turned to him. “Why can’t she?”
His hum murdered the silence. “She knows she’s being tempted by something false. She knows whatever’s keeping her there won’t last forever.”
“Then why doesn’t she just leave?”
Instead of answering for me, as I looked to Patrick he nodded back at the canvas, telling me to find the answer myself. And so, I looked. I sank into the colours, into her look that almost made me want to cry the more I studied it. Instinct took hold of me when I felt the cogs in my head turning, and when I felt ready, I turned to him. “She’s in love.”
Patrick simply smiled, proudly. “And that alone can convince someone that even the underworld is the safest place to be.” Before I could let those thoughts sink in, Patrick fully turned to me. “Curiosity is a rare accessory, Cora. And you wear it well.” Recognition flickered in his eyes. “I think the Nouvelle Muse has been waiting for someone like you.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
The Nouvelle Muse.Waiting for me? Right. Sure.
My giggles doubled.
"How do you know I applied for that?" I snorted, as politely as I could.
"I told you," His palms flexed, clasped in front of him. "I'm here on committee business. As in the Nouvelle Muse committee."
My mouth tugged down as I nodded. "Right." Then the disbelief of this whole interaction caught up with me and I could help but laugh again. “Are you sure you didn’t mix up thenames? Maybe glanced at someone else’s painting and thought you saw mine scribbled in the corner?”
But he didn’t laugh. Didn’t even flinch. Just stared at me like he’d personally signed the invite.
My grin wavered. “Oh…” My throat went dry. “Oh, you’re serious.” My stomach dropped like a shot put had been flung there, welding me in place. I felt my eyes widen as he looked at me, as I realised what he’d said. “You saw my piece?”
He nodded as he guided us back to the bench just behind us. “I did, and I also took the liberty of heading to your professors and seeing what else you’d created this year.” My heart dropped. “But all she could show me was something you did your first semester back in the fall.”
My head sank, my hands twitching. “I haven’t exactly been the most inspired artist as of late.”
He sighed in a way that told me he knew. “For what it’s worth, I’m so truly sorry you had to go through that, dear.” My eyes locked with his. “But that doesn’t change that your piece you submitted for the committee completely took our breaths away.”
My smile widened, aching. “Really?”
His chin dipped, his white brows tugging slightly. “Don’t mistake me—you have room to improve, but that’s exactly what the scholarship is designed to give you.”
I looked to him. “Are you…“ I stuttered. “Wait, I don’t want to say it in case I actually did drink too much last night and now I’m trapped in my subconscious.”
His laugh was quiet but full of power, echoing in our corner of the gallery. “Cora, we’re inviting you to the Nouvelle competition.”
My mouth beat my mind, hand hovering over his. “Are you sure?”
His eyes softened as his smile morphed into something knowing, his warm palm covering mine. “First my manners, now my intelligence. My my, you really are a stickler.”
I shook my head as a smile bloomed across my mouth. “Just making sure.”
