And nothing.
Disappointed, her gaze flickered over the canvases again as Mihr joined her. One would think being royalty, they’d have family portraits. She studied the painting of the beach where she’d fought Aerén not too long ago.
“This captures the shore perfectly.” Her gaze drifted back to the lit, stained glass wall portraying people…people with blue hair. But she couldn’t make out their features in the fragmented pieces. “No family portraits?”
“On the lower floor, in the gallery there,” a quiet voice said from behind them.
She spun around and met Aerén’s dark stare as he fastened his hair into a ponytail, causing the sleeves of his tunic to tighten over his powerful biceps. Her face grew hot, recalling their heated kiss in the living room. “I thought you left?” she blurted.
“I’m about to.” He inclined his head for her to proceed with him. “I’ll show you.”
On the third floor, he led her not to a private gallery but to the opposite side of the circular balcony and the grand staircase. The flowing wall sported a range of canvases, from clusters of little paintings to massive ones several feet tall.
Curious, Leya stopped at a large painting, studying the males in a living room.
She picked out Aerén easily. He was much younger, slouching in an armchair, bracing the tip of a dagger and the hilt end between his index fingers. The elyon she’d met recently relaxed in an armchair, reading, and a third guy hunkered down on the carpet, likely talking to a little girl with inky black hair. His blue hair was tied in a ponytail.
He must be the banished brother, with their sister who died. The rapt attention on the little girl’s face made Leya want to reach out and stroke her hair.
Her gaze lit on a fourth male with streaky, darker blue hair staring out the window, his expression contemplative.
Another brother?
She wasn’t sure since she hadn’t asked Aerén how many siblings he had.
They all had blue hair except for the little girl.
“Wow, these are beautiful. The artist has a good eye and has captured your likeness perfectly.”
“Mymateri. She painted them in the early years.”
So, she no longer did after his sister died?
Leya didn’t say anything as she studied each one again. She frowned and went back to the male, staring through the window.
That beautiful profile… But then they all bore similar features.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Aerén said from her side. “I have to go.”
Leya barely heard him as he walked away, her heart clocking like a racehorse. She peered at the image. The hair was slightly darker…could be because of the shadows, but that profile—
She froze. “It’s him!” she rasped, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch the canvas, tracing his hair, shades darker than Aerén’s.
Oh, crap!
“Aerén!” She darted to the balustrade, gripping the railing, blood pounding in her head.
He stopped halfway down, glancing up.
“The man in my dreams, it’s not you, it’s him—” She flung her hand toward the huge painting.
Then he was sprinting up the stairs to her side. “Which male?”
She pointed a shaky finger at the man looking out through the window. “Him! His face, the agony!”
“Leya.” He grasped her by her biceps. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
“I told you, but you wouldn’t listen—”
