Evelina nodded her thanks, walking on the paint-splattered floors all the way to the back storage room. She rifled through the paintings, waiting.
Lawrence walked in with a crate. “You know, you could always commission a painting.”
Evelina looked up, her brow furrowing.
“Instead of digging through the backroom every time,” he said, almost teasing. “You can just ask for what you want, and I’m sure the painter would be open to your suggestions.”
Her heart thrummed. She had, of course, considered it before, but it felt intimate—like she was revealing too much of herself by asking for it.
“There’s a waterfall near the border,” she said without looking up. “A place I used to visit during the war.”
Lawrence hummed. “The painter usually doesn’t go that far, but if you describe it for me, I can pass it along.”
She smiled as she described the waterfall that flowed into a small pond. She remembered every detail she could: how it was nestled behind the old war camp, the rocks that rose high around it, the trees that hung over the edges with the conelike fruits used for cleansing hair.
Lawrence nodded his head and promised to pass the message along to the painter. She had an inkling that thepainterwas actually him—based on his paint-streaked hands and the way his eyes lit up discussing the art.
But if he signed his paintings as someone else, she wouldn’t press it.
Still, she had come to enjoy spending time with him. He was someone she could be friends with, and that was something she very much missed. Even if he was still a little shy around the fae queen, she could sense him warming up.
That is, until he didn’t show up the next week—or the week after that.
“Said he needed a break,” was all Clara said.
Evelina grew restless when the weeks turned into a month. She even searched the refugee camp nearby on her next visit, worried something had happened to him. When she asked around for Lawrence, people shrugged, saying they hadn’t seen him.
She started to get more and more worried until one morning, her maid, Lila, came into her room holding something wrapped in thick parchment.
“This was left for you,” Lila said brightly. “A note is attached to the back of it.” She smiled and slipped out of the room.
Evelina stood, still in her night robes, and walked over to the rectangular package. She flipped it over, grabbing the note.
Dear Queen Evelina,
I hope it is the way you imagined it to be.
Sincerely,
R.R.
She gasped and dropped the note. Carefully, she ripped the parchment off.
Tears gathered in her eyes. It wasjustas she had remembered it. The painter had even chosen to depict it at night, with a crescent moon in the sky and little stars dotting the upper portion.
It was the same place she had learned about Daimon’s bloodline and his reason for leaving when they were younger. The place she had finally let her guard down and let him in.
She smiled. It was perfect.
Evelina changed into a simple pale blue gown, glancing at the painting every few seconds. She couldn’t look away.
Even as she floated to the throne room to meet Leda, Annora, and Ellerry, she thought about it. They discussed the upcoming Harvest Moon trial happening in a couple of months, but her mind drifted back to the painting that sat in her room. The trial was the same every year, though Leda seemed intent on making it more perfect than the last.
As they wrapped up the meeting, Annora turned to Evelina. “Isn’t that good news, Eve? Iris had her firstborn this morning. A boy.”
Evelina recovered quickly and smiled. “He came late.”
“Seems he’ll be stubborn,” Leda muttered. “They named him Graylen. Odd name.”
