Karwyn’s cheeks were bright red like Amira’s had been a few minutes ago. In the corner of her eye, she noticed that Varsha was hiding a laugh. When she caught Amira’s eyes on her, the painter put on a serious face but still winked at her.
“Varsha, always a vision. I’m a bit sad you’re not wearing your famouspaint dresstoday,” Rhay said with a mischievous smile.
“I save it for your parties, dear,” she teasingly replied.
Visibly annoyed by their flirty exchange, Karwyn removed Rhay’s arm and turned to Varsha. “Shall we start? I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Let’s place you, princess, on this chair,” Varsha said as she gestured for Rhay to bring the chair in front of the easel. Amira sat, not really sure about how to hold herself. But Varsha was focused on Karwyn. “Your Majesty, could you stand next to her with maybe a hand on her shoulder?” Amira felt Karwyn moving closer but she noticed that his hand didn’t touch her. Instead, it hovered over her shoulder. Varsha was about to add something, but looking at Karwyn’s face, she closed her mouth.
The painter lowered herself to Amira’s feet and started fluffing out the bottom of her dress. The movement made Amira shiver. Or was it because of Varsha’s warm breath on her ankles? She wrestled to stop her thoughts. Satisfied with the placement of the dress, Varsha went to her easel.
“Perfect. Now if you could avoid switching positions until I at least get the sketch done.” She started scratching at the canvas with her pencil. The sound of her drawing was soon the only noise in the room.
Amira sat completely still. She could sense Karwyn behind her, doing the same. On the other hand, Rhay had curled up on an armchair and was reading his book. She wondered what it was about. The book Rhay had gifted her was still hidden in her wardrobe, the strange cover drawing her attention every time she opened the door to look for an outfit.
Now she could feel Rhay’s intense eyes on her. He was watching her as if he was on the other side of a two-way mirror, with such carelessness and confused feelings. No man had ever looked at her like that. All the men she had encountered, the men who had lusted after her, had looked at her as if she was nothing more than a desirable body. A lifeless puppet they could control to their satisfaction.
Rhay’s look was softer and respectful. He was truly embracing her as a person. At this moment, she felt like she could ask him anything and he would do it. Sensing Karwyn’s hand above her, she wondered if her fiancé threatened her life, would Rhay come to her rescue?
She could sense the tension in Karwyn’s body. She felt an urge to raise her head to see what had made Karwyn so mad, but her tendency to follow the rules stopped her. He couldn’t have read her mind, could he?
Amira focused her attention on the painter. Varsha’s face was twisted with concentration yet it remained beautiful. Amira was completely puzzled by the painter. A strong light in her eyes indicated that she was probably a level four, and still she was just a painter? Most painters were from Allamyst and they usually were only level twos. You didn’t really need a high power level to be a good painter. An observant eye, a feel for colours, and a creative spirit were the most common traits Amira had encountered in the painters of Allamyst’s court.
Varsha seemed to be finally satisfied with her sketch and she started mixing colours with a precise hand. Amira had always been impressed by some painters’ capacity to represent fae with such vivacity. Fae, especially powerful ones, radiated a pure and raw energy that was hard to replicate on a canvas.
Amira had tried her hand at painting when she was younger following her father’s encouragement for the art. She had failed so miserably at replicating a portrait of her father that he wasn’t even able to lie convincingly.
Karwyn sighed, drawing Rhay’s attention. But the young fae’s intense eyes slowly drifted to Amira again. The air from her lungs escaped her and she went into a coughing fit.
“Are you all right, princess?” Rhay and Varsha asked at the same time. Finally able to take a deep breath, Amira gestured that she was fine.
“Always looking for attention,” she heard Karwyn mumble under his breath. She pretended not to care but her body still tensed up. Why couldn’t he at least try to be nice?
She could feel him growing restless. Karwyn’s hand was twitching above her shoulder, sometimes even grazing the delicate fabric. Varsha was too focused on her painting to notice anything. On the contrary, Rhay had noted his friend’s strange attitude and was visibly trying to communicate with him through gestures and eye contact. But his best efforts failed.
“I am taking a break,” said Karwyn and without waiting for Varsha’s reaction, he stormed out of the room. Rhay quickly followed him.
“What in Caelo’s name are you doing?” Amira heard Rhay say before the door closed behind them.
And then it was just the painter and her, back to their awkward silence. Varsha smiled at her. “Do you want to see how it looks?”
“Aren’t we supposed to only see it when it’s done?”
“Come on, I won’t tell anyone,” said Varsha playfully.
Amira hesitated. She was curious to see the painting, but that would mean interacting with Varsha.
She stood up, happy to be able to stretch her legs on her short walk to the easel. An explosion of colours welcomed her when she saw the canvas was no longer blank. At first, she wasn’t able to see the whole picture. It looked like pools of vibrant colours intertwined with each other.
“Take a step back,” whispered Varsha. Amira did what she was told and she could finally see it. A strange feeling overcame her when she looked at herself in the painting. She could recognise the traits she had seen multiple times in the mirror, but something was different—special.
Her hand moved towards the painting and she almost touched it, but Varsha stopped her.
“It’s not dry yet,” Varsha said. Amira stayed still.
Varsha grabbed one of her brushes and applied some paint to the canvas. That’s when Amira realised Varsha’s power. The water she was using with the paint created perfectly mixed colours. When she applied it on the canvas, the strokes were precise and vivid, blending perfectly with the rest of the paint already on the portrait.
“You have water power, right?” Amira asked.
