The man shrugged again. “Robert knows best. He knows so many things about the world. Robert’s been everywhere. To the moon and the stars.”
Ooooo-kay.“So if you’re not Robert, then who am I talking to?”
He whistled, his eyes rolling toward Blake again. He reached out toward the tree beside Blake, his fingers scraping over the plaster. He blinked. When he spoke again, his voice had completely changed. Gone was the throaty rasp. Instead, his words were crisp, clear, bitter.
“I call him Rob, the other one. He gets more of a look in these days. There’s much to interest me in this place.”
I glanced at Corbin, then back to the man in front of me. Weirdly, even his face looked different. His skin was tighter, his lips forming a pout. He would have been so handsome when he was young. If my mother was anything like me, I could see what attracted her to him. “So, we’re speaking to Robert now?”
Robert Smithers gave a tiny wave and a mischievous grin. “Howdy. Rob and I don’t always get along, y’see. He’s not a fan of my artwork. Thinks it too bold, too daring. I think he’s pussywhipped.”
Corbin met my gaze, his eyes betraying his disappointment. He shook his head sadly. I knew he was thinking this was hopeless, but I wasn’t convinced. We knew from Robert’s letters that he had this split personality or whatever it was going on, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t get anything useful out of him.
I flipped to the page of the book that showed the portrait of my mother and laid down a photograph of the painting from Briarwood on top of it. “Do you remember this lady? Which one of you painted her?”
He stared at the page for a moment. “Aline was special. We both painted her. She’s the only one we had to both paint. Rob insisted.” He waved his hand in the air, like he was flapping at invisible mosquitoes, and picked up the photograph. “This was mine. She liked it best, that’s why she kept it close to her.”
“Why was she special?”
“Just look at her, a…” Robert’s eyes rolled back, and a moment later, he blinked. “What…did I fall asleep?”
“No, Mr Smithers. We were just talking to, er…Robert.”
“That bastard,” he swore. “What was he saying to you? What lies was he telling about me?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to know about this painting.” I touched the photograph again. “About the lady in it. You painted her, didn’t you? But not this image. This one in the book here that hung in the National Gallery, right? Why did you and Robert both paint her?”
He shoved the book away. “Don’t let her look at me.”
I snapped the book shut. “It’s okay. She’s not looking at you anymore. Can you tell me about her, about Aline?”
“I loved her,” he sniffed. “I loved her with my heart and soul and spleen and every other part of me, but she only loved Robert. She had no time for poor Rob. I poured everything I had into that portrait, I tried to show her what she meant to me, but she chose him instead.”
“How did she choose Robert? What did she say?”
“She wanted to go, go, go, up to the stars. He was always talking about his home in the stars, where he built a castle of stardust and a throne of skulls. I made her a writing desk, but she needed the skulls.”
Skulls…
That didn’t sound good. Why did my mother want skulls?
“Were you there that night, Rob? The night of the ritual? The night Aline died?”
His eyes fluttered shut. “She didn’t tell me anything,” he whispered. “She only shared with Robert. Only Robert was inside the circle.”
“But did you see what happened inside the circle? Did Aline stab her child?”
“So much blood…” Rob’s eyes closed. He opened them again and burst out laughing. Robert was back, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he laughed at my pain.
“You were there, weren’t you, Robert?”
He only laughed harder. I balled my hands into fists. Desperation clawed at my veins. I needed answers, but talking to this guy was worse than talking to Flynn.
I tried a different line of questioning. “Do you remember my father? He was a fae named Daigh and he would never have come inside the castle. He might have been disguised. Did Aline speak of the man who made her pregnant?”
Robert’s whole body convulsed with laughter. “She fucked a fae?” He choked out. “Oh, you’re full of wild stories, girl. Aline spread her legs for me, wrapped those silky gams of hers around my head. Her cunt was like?—”
“Hey, Princess…”
