The Painting

I stared at the painting in front of me, trying not to snap the brush in my hands. The sketch had turned out great after two days of staring at the pile of bread behind the canvas. After devouring it almost singlehandedly—Anhelina, Kasi, and Fedir grabbed a few pieces beforehand—I set to painting. But after mixing the paint, I couldn’t even begin to figure out where to start.

There was a small knock on the door before Anhelina poked her head in. “My lord? Oh, good I found you.” She walked in, fixing her apron. From the flushed look on her face, she’d spent a while running around trying to find me. “I thought you would be asleep. Lord Muin gave this to me before he left on his morning walk.”

She set down the letter and looked around at the art supplies scattered around the room. When I first moved all of my stuff in here it had been organized. I used the shelves to store paint and the drawers to store the canvas. Anhelina had an eye for space, so she set up all the paintings I brought with me and hadn’t put up anywhere else.

“Are you alright, my lord? You look… stressed.”

“Stressed is putting it mildly. I remembered everything about what it looked like, but I feel like a novice since I can’t translate it well enough. Every time I go to paint it, I can feel that it’ll turn out wrong.” I sighed, turning away from it, and looking out the window. The sun just barely touched the tops of the trees, wind winding its way through the canopy, shaking the leaves.

I looked at the letter and said, “I’ll wash up and be down for breakfast soon.”

Anhelina bowed and backed out while I grabbed a cloth, dipping it in the bucket of water I kept in the corner to wash off whatever paint, chalk, or charcoal stuck to me.

I looked out the window again, and I caught a glimpse of someone at the tree line. The wind blew their hair and they turned to face the wind and for the first time since the wedding, I saw Muin. His eyes met mine and I blushed, suddenly embarrassed to be caught underdressed and covered in paint. I ducked down, wishing we had seen each other at any other point.

I finished wiping myself down and when I looked out again, he was gone. I grabbed his letter on my way out, reading as I walked.

> October 23

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> Lady Hyran,

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> I hear you’ve taken over the east facing room near the greenhouse for your work. I’m glad you’re getting some use out of the space we have and I look forward to seeing your finished product hanging in my office. I likely won’t be there to accept it, so pick where you think it fits best. Perhaps, if you would indulge me, you could put more paintings in there if you see fit. The ones you don’t wish to see or the ones you’ve run out of steam to finish.

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> As for hobbies, I don’t believe I really have many. I enjoy taking walks in the forest when I have the time. Being surrounded by nature has always calmed me, especially since I’ve become a marquis. Playing cello was something I enjoyed as a child so I’m sure I would still enjoy it, though I would be rusty after not playing for so long.

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> In a week, you’ll begin working alongside Jurek to learn the ins and outs of becoming the marquess of Datura. While the town is small and well established, there are still many reports, contracts, requests, etc. from the people, and the infrastructure always needs to be watched closely.

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> I don’t visit the town often myself, but they know who I am. In these first few months, I ask that you take the time to be there and introduce yourself. To integrate as much as you are able to make sure that they are comfortable coming to you with any problems they may have.

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> I believe in your ability to excel.

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> Lord Muin

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> Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

When I reached the dining room, I was frowning. I had been avoiding thinking too hard about my duties, but I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad. Paperwork and interacting with the people wouldn’t be the worst and it would give me something to do during the day. Small as the town may be, I was sure there was always something that needed attention.

“You alright, Hyran?” Putra tapped my shoulder as I sat, looking over the letter again.

“Yeah, just thinking about next week. Everything starts then.” I sat down, eating without thinking as I stared at the wall. The trellis was halfway done and if I was allowed, I would stop eating now and finish. The only reason it wasn’t was because I was pushing myself to finish Muin’s painting before starting anything else.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he said. “Jurek was walking me through some of your daily tasks and it’s nothing more than what you’ve been training to do since you were a kid.”

“Have such mind-blowing sex he won’t care that I’m a terrible person?”

Anhelina coughed, turning away as she started to laugh, but Putra rolled with it, used to my antics. “No, that’s what your mom was teaching Liza and she’s doing a great job it seems, since Jiro seems as happy as ever.”

It was Jurek’s turn to look away, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “Got me there. Whatever she’s doing, she’s gotta give me some tips.”

“I’ll be sure to write to her for you. No, you’ve been trained to deal with and defuse people. To mediate and compromise with them. Half of your work seems to be that, and the other half is coming up with solutions to problems.”

“That is a good portion of what I was taught. Jurek, when you’re done laughing, can you write down a few history teachers for me? I want to be familiar with everything about Datura and the region as a whole.” Datura, compared to the nine other cities in the Solance region, was more like a village than a town. With populations almost double that of Wisteria, the other cities were sights to behold, with the capital city Capsi the biggest and grandest. It was also where the rest of Muin’s family lived, miles and miles away from us.

Jurek coughed one last time, composing herself. “I can give you those history lessons, if you would have me.”

“You aren’t going to be too busy with everything else? I don’t want you to be overworked.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’ve been here for a long time. I know how to balance my time well and I’m sure I know the minutiae of Datura far better than someone from any of the other cities.”

I laughed. “Fair enough. I look forward to you teaching me.”

<><><><><>

I should have been in bed. I held my breath as I snuck past Putra’s room, trying to keep my feet light as I felt my way down the hall. Tomorrow was my first day as the Marquess of Datura and I was incapable of falling asleep. I tossed and turned; hummed to myself and even tried walking around my room to expend the nervous energy that buzzed through me.

Instead of flopping around my bed all night, I got up and made my way to my studio. If there was anything I could do, it was to keep painting Muin’s gift. Inspiration hadn’t stuck and earlier in the day I spent at least three hours staring at it, trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

This wasn’t the first time I’d gone through a creative block and definitely wouldn’t be the last. Usually when I had a hard time painting, it was because I was stressed about something. The last time was right before the wedding when I couldn’t think about anything other than how I wished I had at least met him once.

I gently pushed open the door, taking in the mess, my eyes landing on Muin’s letter I hadn’t responded to yet. I had hoped I could get it done and have it delivered with the painting. Instead, I had neither.

I hopped onto the dresser, pulling my feet up as I looked out the window. The trees were swaying again, this time from the dragon’s wingbeats as she made her way over the treetops, and I shivered as the wind hit the window. There was no telling her color or build, only her massive size over the trees. It was the first time I’d seen her, and I was hoping I would never get closer to find out the details.

The reason I couldn’t pick up the brush was still centered around Muin. I wanted him to like it, but more than that, I wanted him to acknowledge it as more than just a painting. To realize I was putting all of my effort into making something he could be proud of. My art was a reflection of myself, and he never asked for me, but he asked for my painting.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see him at the tree line. Tall and thick limbed, his hair whipping in the wind, and his eyes finally on mine again. I took a breath, focusing on all the details. The way the sun hit his face and the way he stood tall as if someone was instructing him to. The way his brows were raised when he saw me, as if surprised. The walking stick tucked under his arm as he looked around and the slight upturn of his mouth.

I couldn’t remember what he looked like at the altar. Not much came to me except for his freckles and bright eyes in the light, but I was determined to remember this one. To think of this until I managed to see him again.

I opened my eyes to the empty trees and felt the familiar itch of inspiration working its way through me. Dropping down, I found a candle to light and hustled to get my paints and brushes. I needed to get moving before the urge left.

In front of the canvas for the millionth time, I finally felt like I knew where to start. I opened my paints and began to pour.