“Either that, or the crown prince himself is supposed to be that hope.”
Onric bristled. Of course, the theme of the event would make his brother the hope of the kingdom. Well, enough talk of that, then. “Have you found anything interesting?”
“I’m not sure... Do you think this counts as interesting?” She lifted a small painting from the crate and held it out for his inspection.
The chipped and faded image depicted a sallow old man, whose nose looked more like the beak of an eagle than the appendage of a human. The Iseldis crown rested upon his brow, but Onric did not recognize him from all his lessons on genealogy. Ian probably would, though. He pushed that thought from his mind.
“I do hope that is not one of my ancestors.” He shuddered. “If it is, then there is no hope for my already large nose.” He grinned at her over the portrait.
She smiled back. Warmth spread through his body. He stepped to her side to peer down into the crate she was unpacking.
“What other monstrosities have you uncovered?”
She reached to her side and unwrapped an object that was covered in canvas. “This one is actually rather lovely,” she offered. It was a glass sculpture in the shape of a rose. A clear glass stem complete with thorns twisted up into blood-red petals. “I can’t imagine how they created something so intricate so long ago.”
“They say the Majis were skilled in crystal work.”
At the word Majis, she quickly put the figurine back on the pile of canvas. “Do you think it might be spelled?”
“No, it’s not likely. All those objects were confiscated seasons ago.”
Without reaching back down to touch it, she tilted her head, admiring the rose from all angles. “It’s hard to believe someone so evil could produce something so beautiful.”
“I know, right?” He picked it up, twisting it in his hands to admire it for himself. “Most of the things they created were used for destruction or torture.”
“But this is so graceful and elegant.” She reached out and ran her finger around the edge of a petal. Maybe she was emboldened by the fact that he himself was touching it without fear. “Perhaps this was not made by a Majis,” she added.
“Mhhh. If it’s old enough to be stuffed away in this tower, then it was likely created before a quotidian craftsman would have this kind of skill. They still don’t have this type of skill. They say that all figurines were created by the Majis.” Onric was rambling, but his mind was trying to work out what she had said. He had always been fascinated by the stories of the horrifying creations made by magic, but he had never stopped to consider beautiful or mundane creations as well.
“All glass figurines?”
He pulled his gaze from the rose to focus on the true beauty in the room. This was the first time he had seen her in the daylight, he realized, and she did not need the soft flickering of a candle to make her skin glow. What had they been talking about? Right, the figurine she had found. He placed it down on the canvas. “This would be a perfect addition to the decor for Ian’s ball,” he reassured her.
She smiled, “Thank you. I’ll take it down to the steward and see if he wants me to continue exploring this room.” She carefully wrapped the canvas around it.
He did not want her to leave.
She picked it up and turned towards him. He was blocking her way to the door, but he could not come up with an excuse for her to stay. His mind was clearly not working. He stepped aside to let her pass, his heart skipping a beat as her shoulder brushed his chest when she moved past him in the narrow space. She stopped a few paces later, looking over towards the pile of canvas and the forgotten needle. “Do you need help sewing something, my Lord?”
“Yes, actually—yes!” Finally, he had a good excuse to continue talking to her for a few moments. “I quite forgot that you are an excellent seamstress.”
She set the figurine down and met him at his canvas. “What exactly are you making?”
He could not think of any reasonable answer that involved a giant piece of canvas with a single stitch made in the corner. “Uhh... I’m testing out this needle to see if it would make a good gift for my sister, Meena. It didn’t look very sharp, so I just wanted to test it...” He stopped talking before he worked himself into a deeper hole.
“Does the princess like to sew?” She was standing right next to him now, fingering the corner of the canvas and reaching for the needle.
“Not really,” he said, answering honestly.
She looked up at him. “Should you not get her something she would enjoy, then?”
“Good point.” He scratched the back of his neck.
She reached back down for the needle and situated the fabric between her fingers. He couldn’t tell her he was testing out a spelled item. And since he didn’t know how to sew, he didn’t know if he would be able tell if it was spelled himself. He didn’t know what it would do. Wait! What if it was spelled to harm the user?
“Stop!” he cried. The point of the needle was pressing against the fabric but had not broken through yet. She pulled it back, shrinking away from him again.
He reached out, wanting to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but refrained from touching her. “No, you are fine. I just... I did not tell you the whole truth.”
