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She looked up. "You have talent too."

Soren walked across the room until he stood beside her. "I disagree."

She laughed softly. "No, I see your talent in these,” she said, holding up a handful of drawings. “They're incredible."

"They're merely observations,” he countered.

"They're art,” she said.

"They're—” He searched for the right word. "You."

Her heart squeezed as she looked through another stack of sketches. One showed her asleep in front of the fireplace, and another captured her laughing with Maria in the garden. There was even one from breakfast that morning, complete with the little smear of jam she'd somehow managed to get on the corner of her mouth.

"You notice everything,” she breathed.

"I've told you that already,” he said.

"I know, I just didn't realize—” Her voice trailed away. "That you were paying this much attention."

Soren's gaze never left her face. "I pay attention to things that matter to me." The words settled deep inside her, and she looked down at another drawing. This one was unfinished. It was just the outline of her face. One eye was completed, and the other was only lightly sketched.

"When did you draw this?" she asked.

"Last night,” he said.

"While I was sleeping?"

He nodded. "I couldn't sleep."

"So—” She smiled. "You drew me instead?"

"I did,” he admitted.

"Why?" she asked.

Soren was quiet for several moments. "Because drawing you is peaceful for me." Tears immediately stung her eyes. No one had ever described her as peaceful before. She'd been called difficult, too emotional, too sensitive, and too much work—but never peaceful.

She carefully set the sketches aside before standing. Soren watched her with that same unwavering intensity that always made her feel as though she were the only person in the world. "I owe you an apology."

His forehead creased. "For what?"

"I judged you,” she said.

"Lily—"

"No." She shook her head. "I saw you kill Richard and I decided I knew exactly what kind of man you were." Soren remained silent. "I never bothered looking any deeper." She took another step toward him. "But these—” She glanced toward the drawings. "Those aren't something a cruel man creates."

He looked away. "They're only sketches."

"They're pieces of your heart."

His eyes snapped back to hers.

"You hid them, the same way I hid mine." Neither of them spoke as the realization hung quietly between them. "We're more alike than I thought."

Soren gave a slow nod. "Yes, we are."

She smiled sadly. "I think we're both really good at pretending we don't need people."