“Aren’t they allowed to marry for love?” Amaris was startled by her own question.
“Of course, people do. It happens every day. But as the duke, he’s expected to fill a certain role.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t have such a burden as my father or Luther.”
“Do you plan to marry someday then, or are you like Adelaide?”
“She says that now, but we’ll see.” His laughter was short-lived as it shifted the muscles in his back.
Amaris rather enjoyed the sound of his laugh, its warmth. “Looks like you’re the one evading questions now.”
“As you so often do.” He sighed. “I have no plans to marry anytime soon. My stepmother, however, sees the Conjugation as a fine occasion to find me a suitable wife.”
“You’d let her?” She couldn’t imagine marrying someone she didn’tpick and love.
“I don’t have a choice in the matter,” he whispered. “I live to serve my family.” He closed his eyes. They squished tighter at the slight feathering of his back muscles.
“I can brew you more cudweed.”
“Please,” he said, not meeting her gaze. Instead, his eyes lingered on her boots.
She pressed from the chair, kicking herhighly futuristicshoes under her chair. She hadn’t come across a zipper here and likely wouldn’t. To keep her heart steady, she set to brewing the tea. Theodoric’s eyes still bored holes into her shoes. Amaris bit her lip, her hands moving mindlessly. He couldn’t have noticed the zippers. No one had said a word about the jingly little things yet.
She crossed between him and her boots to set the kettle over the fire. She watched the steam build around the spout and counted the seconds and then the minutes, praying he wasn’t about to ask where she’d gotten such shoes. As she turned back, her blood ran cold. He wasn’t staring at her shoes at all, rather the drawing and plastic bag poking out from their hidden pocket.
“You said you used to draw.”
“Yes.” She jumped as the kettle whistled behind her. Pouring his tea, her eyes pinned themselves to the single picture poking out and its crinkled corner.
“Can I see?”
“You want to see my work?” She snapped her attention to him, spilling the scalding water across the counter. She yanked back her hand, sucking the burn on her thumb.
She strode over to her boots, shielding them from his prying eyes. She pulled out the picture she’d drawn so long ago from the plastic bag. The small picture had only ever seen two pairs of eyes. Hers and Viv’s. She blew out a short breath and offered it to him.
“Is this your family?” he asked, his fingers tracing the image.
Luckily, Amaris had been feeling artsy and sketched it on a decorative piece of paper that was meant to look like old parchment.
“Yeah.” She kneeled beside him, grasping the other side as she pointed. “That’s my mom and dad, and that’s Gran and Grandad.”
“Were you raised by your grandparents then?”
“Yep.” She sniffled, wiping the corner of her eye. “But it’s only me now.”
“You’re incredibly talented. You even captured the single-dimple smile you share with your mother.”
She blushed, grabbing at the picture. “Really?” The flush spread down her chest and stirred a small laugh. “I drew that so long ago, I forgot.”
“These are the people you’ve lost?”
Wow, way to put it like that. Filed away in old boxes in her attic were thousands of pictures of her with her parents and grandparents, but her drawing had always been special. She even had several pictures from birthdays growing up of Gran and Grandad visiting Ivory Beach in North Carolina, but she was always center on the page. The drawing was of them.
“Is my pouch up here?”
“The leather one around your belt? I think Esaias brought it up with your stuff.” Amaris moved to the other side of the cot and rifled through his belongings. She unraveled his shirt, and his belt clanked to the ground. After untying the strap, she handed him the pouch. He rummaged through it, coins pinging off one another. A small painting was in his hand. It was well done enough that it could’ve been a photograph. “Is that Adelaide?”
