I soften my tone. “Whatever they sacrificed so you could get the right education and work at a bank doesn’t justify burying a talent like this.”
Her lips press into a thin line.
Again, I push past her defensiveness. “Laura, their expectations are holding you back. Can’t you see that?”
“They only ever wanted what’s best for me,” she says with an edge to her voice. “You make it sound like they’ve been terrible.”
“I didn’t say that. But sometimes the people who love us most can’t see past their own dreams for us.”
Her gaze sharpens. “And what about you, Antoine Bellay? If you didn’t have to fulfill your parents’ expectations, what would you do?”
To say that I was completely unprepared for the question would be an understatement. My mind scrambles for a witty retort, but nothing comes. Fine. Then I should just answer that my choices are my own, and that I do what I do in life because I’m good at it and I enjoy it. It’s the truth. I know it. What puzzles me is why I feel so… exposed.
“I wouldn’t change a thing,” I finally say, before picking up the sketchbook. “Can I see the rest?”
“Yes, of course.”
She doesn’t ask any more personal questions, and I’m relieved. As we work our way through the sketchbook, I observe carefully and comment, though my thoughts remain muddled.Laura turns a page. My gaze locks on a design. It’s a brooch depicting a blooming rose entwined with two ribbons.
At first glance, it looks like a simple floral motif, rendered in Laura’s unique style. It isn’t particularly original. But something about it makes me focus on the details. The unusual shape of the petals… The elaborately asymmetric way in which the ribbons wrap around the stem… These elements look suspiciously familiar.
I’ll be damned!I’m looking at the sigil of the Order of the Brassiere, Mount Evor’s oldest and most prestigious chivalric order. My pulse quickens.
“Where did you get the idea for this design?” I ask.
Laura looks startled. “The rose? Oh, it’s just something I remember. Why?”
“Remember from where?”
She tilts her head, visibly perplexed. “My grandma’s house.”
“Where?”
“In Chengdu,” she replies. “I was sixteen when my parents, Aunt Mei, and I went there. It was for a big family reunion with the grandparents, my uncle, and my cousins.”
I lean forward. “What exactly do you remember about that pattern?”
“Not much.” She frowns, tracing the edge of the page. “I saw it somewhere in her house. It stuck with me because it didn’t fit.”
“How do you mean?”
“Everything else was so traditionally Chinese—the furniture, porcelain vases, calligraphy scrolls. And then this… this random European-looking design.”
“Was it on an object?” I ask, hoping to jog her memory. “Like a… music box, maybe?”
Laura blinks at me, her confusion deepening. “A music box? I don’t know. Maybe? Why?”
It’s a bloody shame I’m not allowed to reveal the truth to her!
Her eyes widen. “Don’t tell me you’re still trying to solve Pedro’s secret challenge?”
“I am.”
“But why?”
“I’m dogged like that.” I shrug. “And so, I’d like to see if this leads anywhere. Do you find that annoying?”
“No, it’s just weird how much you’re still into it.”
