Painting Rain (Books of Dalthia Book 4) Page 3

  I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. Perhaps this was precisely what I needed.

  “Come along,” she said, standing and holding out a hand to me. “I have a gift for you, but we will need to search for it.”

  I let her pull me up and we went to her old bedchamber, where her and her husband’s trunks littered the floor. Marilee’s lady’s maid was already going through one.

  “Cecily dear, do you know where the gift is that I brought for Raina?”

  It still took me by surprise to hear her speak with such familiarity with her maid and the other servants who had come with her from Winberg, despite the fact that she had done so for the four months she had been at home before her marriage.

  Cecily considered for a moment and then crossed to a pile of boxes. “I believe it’s with these.” As she and Marilee sifted through the packages, James came in. He smiled at the sight of his wife and Cecily chatting while they searched. He caught sight of me, giving me a smile and a bow. “A pleasure to see you again, Lorraina.”

  I greeted him with a curtsey, returning his smile. I would forever be grateful to this man for what he had done for Marilee. A year ago I would not have approved of him. A year ago, the idea of my sister marrying someone without even a title would have chafed my sensibilities. I would have scoffed at such a union, the way I had scoffed at Ella’s marriage and disapproved of Kalina’s. I had always known I would marry well—marry someone with wealth, position and a title. I had been jealous of Marilee’s marriage to her first husband, Lord Rockwell. But I had been confident that the marriage I had asked my parents to arrange for me would be successful.

  My neat little plan crumbling and being scattered to the wind had been a blow to my pride, but it wasn’t until I learned of the reality of Marilee’s marriage that I had truly questioned my ideals for a husband. She had claimed her life was difficult, but I’d thought she was exaggerating, expecting too much. It was only after her husband’s death that I’d realized the hell she had been living in. Watching my vibrant, full-of-life sister try to rebuild herself after being torn down and manipulated by her husband had left me helpless.

  Even more than that, watching the way that James had helped to heal her broken spirit had made me want to change.

  Marilee looked up when she heard James’s voice. “Hello, darling. Are the horses all taken care of?” Her teasing tone made it clear that she adored his obsession with the creatures.

  “They’re all tucked in safe and sound,” he said as he crossed to her. She tipped her head back with a smile and he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “What are you digging for?” he asked as he straightened.

  “Raina’s gift.”

  “Here it is!” Cecily said with a triumphant flourish, pulling out a large package.

  Marilee took it with both hands and crossed to me with a broad smile. “I figured this would help with the havoc that’s befallen the sitting room.” She set it on a table and gestured for me to open it.

  I gave her a curious look, wondering how she expected to do anything about the mess of painting supplies that had overtaken our sitting room, then turned my attention to her package. It was wrapped in rough fabric and secured with twine. I untied it and pulled back the fabric to reveal a large wooden box. The top was inlaid with gold filigree, and sturdy handles were affixed to both sides. My face split into a grin. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever been given.

  “Look in the drawers,” Marilee prompted.

  I pulled one open and found it divided into neat squares.

  “It’s for your paints!” Marilee explained. “They’re the perfect size for your jars, and this way they won’t bump into each other and slide around. You’ll be able to take them outside.”

  “It’s perfect,” I told her, on the verge of a laugh. My heart gave a little squeeze at the thoughtfulness of such a gift. It really would be perfect, especially if I was going to be traveling in the near future. There were three drawers that pulled open, and a fourth compartment was revealed when I opened the hinged top. The wood was light but seemed sturdy, and I was excited to fill it with all my jars. I reached for Marilee and gave her a hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I pulled back and noticed James looking at the pile of other packages. “Remind me what the rest of these are, love.”

  Marilee laughed and crossed over to him.

  “I’ll put this away and let you two get settled,” I said, skimming my fingers over the exquisite filigree before picking up my box. I carried it down the hall to the sitting room, which I had converted to a workspace for my art. Marilee considered the room chaotic, but the way I had arranged it made sense to me. Granted, my supplies did tend to end up everywhere.

  I set my new box on the floor and immediately set about filling it, brushes in the top compartment, the few shades of leftover paint from yesterday stowed away in the drawers, ready to be used.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  Though Marilee had made her intentions perfectly clear, I was still caught off guard when she broached the subject in the middle of breakfast the next morning. She gave an impassioned and exuberant speech about my need to be challenged and given the chance for an adventure. My parents agreed, with some reluctance, to allow me to seek a position with a master. Before I knew it, a letter of inquiry had been sent to a master painter who lived in Faria. He had visited the castle several times and had earned my parents’ notice. I found my days filled with a mixture of excitement and dread as I waited for the reply. When my father told me that I had been accepted under Master Sterrino’s tutelage, I was overjoyed, not having realized before then how much I longed for this chance.

  My mother contacted several couples in Faria who were patrons of the arts and might be willing to open their homes to me. Lord and Lady Brook were selected to host me. I was excited, truly excited, and wonderfully anxious to start this new path.

  Now that it was a real possibility, I wanted nothing more than to be gone from here, to be in Faria—the artistic center of our kingdom—around people who thought as I did, who saw the world in shades of color and brush strokes. Many times I had wondered if the reason I so often stumbled through conversation was because I simply wasn’t meant to communicate through words, but through images.

  Of course, that had never gotten me out of innumerable uncomfortable conversations over the years. I had a tendency to either be too quiet or say too much when I should have kept my mouth shut.

  That was one of the reasons I’d been drawn to Tobias. He spoke his mind and I always knew where I stood with him. Our honesty led to a good deal of arguing—more than arguing. I couldn’t count the number of times we had met in a ballroom, then snuck away to some secluded corner, flirting and whispering until either I or he would take offense. Yet, despite the number of times I had looked on him with disdain and told him how much I hated him, he always came back. And despite his countless proclamations that I was spoiled and pretentious, I was always relieved when he returned—until he was gone for good. I discovered a deep well of passion because of him. But that unfettered passion that made me love him was also the source of a hateful and vindictive streak within myself that I despised.

  Tobias brought both out of me and even seemed to find my anger amusing, sometimes provoking me on purpose. We were a terrible match, but at least I could claim with some confidence that he knew me.

  Now I would be going somewhere new, a place where no one knew me, and I was half elated and half terrified at the prospect.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  As I waited for my day of departure, I spent more and more time in my sitting-room-turned-studio, studying my paintings, finishing the ones I’d recently started, and wondering how I could improve the ones that left me unsatisfied.

  Sarah found me there late one night.

  “May I be of any help, Highness?” she asked.

  I rubbed my hands on my dress, trying to warm them. “I don’t know if I’m more exc
ited, or more terrified,” I admitted.

  “Then it’s sure to be an adventure.”

  I smiled at her assessment. I had no doubt it would be exactly that. What I did doubt was my ability to cope with the uncertainty of such an adventure. “I hope my skill is sufficient. There is so much more I need to learn.”

  “Perhaps what you need is to stop staring at your paintings and get out of the castle.”

  I looked at her, confused. “It’s dark out.”

  She tried to hide her smile. “I wasn’t suggesting you go now, Highness. But perhaps tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep.” She motioned toward the door that led to my bedchamber.

  I blew the air from my lungs. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” I conceded, giving one more long glance at the painting that seemed not quite right before retiring to my room. “You should come with me tomorrow,” I suggested to Sarah as she unwound my hair.

  She smiled. “T’would be a pleasure, Highness.”

  The next morning, I called the carriage and asked Stephen to return to a meadow I had found several weeks earlier. He handed me and then Sarah into the carriage, then climbed onto the seat as West mounted his horse.

  The meadow was across the river, near Gavin and Ella’s home. When we arrived, I settled myself on the ground, in the middle of the open space with my sketching supplies strewn about me, but I didn’t pick them up yet. First I merely sat in the dappled sunlight, enjoying the distance from the paintings that sat in my little studio, with all their imperfections.

  Sarah wandered the field, gathering flowers as Stephen and West stood by the coach, conversing. My guards made an imposing pair. Stephen was Sarah’s father, and spared her a wink before setting out to walk the perimeter. He and Sarah joked about my welfare being their family business, and I was glad they were able to see one another so often since Sarah’s mother had died several years ago.

  West stood tall and confident, youth and strength compared to Stephen’s age and wisdom. He gave me a quick deferential nod as his gaze skimmed over me, then returned to our surroundings. It made me smile to have them around me.

  Eventually I pulled my paper and pencils close, catching the way the trees hung overhead, the way the grasses bent to accommodate the breeze.

  I acknowledged the relief of being away from the castle, of working on something new instead of rehashing my own dissatisfaction.

  After working for several hours, I had run out of paper, so I allowed myself to relax, leaning back on my hands as I looked for Sarah. She was sitting on the bench of the carriage, talking with her father as he stood beside it, on constant lookout.

  I spotted West on the other side of the meadow, walking the perimeter. He caught my eye and headed over.

  “Have you finished for the day?” he asked.

  I nodded, but didn’t get up. I wanted to simply sit for a while longer. He seemed to realize as much and lowered himself to sit beside me. We rested in the quiet for a few moments before I felt like talking.

  “How’s your mother?” I asked.

  A deep furrow creased his brow. “She is…steady for the time being.”

  “She hasn’t improved?”

  He shook his head. “I’m trying to be grateful that she hasn’t declined more.”

  I admired his positive outlook. Once I was able to see him as a person instead of merely a guard, I had been impressed by his steady character, his ability to smile. “Is there anything I can do?” I asked, though I didn’t have a clue what I could offer him.

  “I’ll tell her you were asking after her and that itself will brighten her day.”

  I looked down, undeserving of such a compliment, but glad that something about me could brighten anyone’s day.

  “She’s impressed with you, you know.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never even had a chance to meet her.”

  “She’s heard plenty about you from me.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me that.” I shut my eyes against the idea that anyone was speaking about me, though as a member of the royal family I knew it was inevitable.

  He chuckled. “What do you expect? My days unavoidably revolve around you. When she asks to hear about my day, I can’t exactly leave you out.”

  I rubbed my hands together, trying to brush off my nervousness. “Sometimes I think it was easier when I was oblivious to what you thought of me.”

  He looked at me, as though trying to puzzle me out. “Can I ask you something?”

  I clasped my hands together. “Of course.”

  “Were you truly oblivious, or did you simply not care?”

  I laughed, though it was devoid of amusement. “It wasn’t simple, but I was determined not to care, about a great many things.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought it would make it easier to be me.”

  “To be yourself?”

  “No, to be…royalty. To be who I thought I was born to become.”

  “You let your title define you?”

  I nodded. “And I let it define everyone around me.”

  “Did that work?”

  I shrugged in self-deprecation. “It turns out that people are far more difficult to stuff in a box than I would have liked.”

  “Were they at least decorative boxes?” he asked, his face straight. I sputtered a laugh as he kept going, gesturing as though handling a box in front of him. “Inlaid with designs and spotted with gems…?”

  “You have a way of making me seem ridiculous.” I threw a pencil at him, which he easily caught.

  “And yet you’re laughing.” He pointed the pencil at me before tossing it back.

  “Because you’re right.”

  “I bet that rankles,” he said, hopping to his feet.

  “Not really,” I murmured as I watched him walk away, his eyes fixed on the trees.

  Chapter Four

  I STOOD ON the front step of my home, watching as trunks and cases were loaded onto the carriage. My hair was done up in two braids that coiled around my head to keep it out of the way. Sarah had taken on the task of directing the footmen to be sure that my luggage was handled with care. I watched her for several moments, smiling at the way she took command of the situation. West and Stephen rode up at the same time, dismounting to speak with the coachman, no doubt discussing routes and timetables and possible dangers.

  Though Stephen usually drove the carriage when I went about the countryside, this time a coachman would take the reins. With a long journey, both of my guards would need to be outriders, available to watch for danger and be on the defensive. Once I had safely arrived in Faria, the coachman would return the carriage to Dalthia. There was no need to have my own carriage when Lord and Lady Brook had been so excited to offer anything that I might need.

  I was grateful that my servants would be coming with me. I would be independent from my family while still having the comfort of familiar faces.

  I let my gaze slip beyond the conveyance and horses, beyond the drive and down the sloping lawn to the town below. This was my home; it was everything I knew, and in no time at all I would be leaving it all behind.

  “Highness?” A steward stood at my elbow.

  “Yes?”

  “Your mother and father would like you to join them in the drawing room.”

  I nodded and entered the castle, removing my traveling hat, but keeping it in my hands instead of handing it off.

  Entering the drawing room, I found my parents standing together, Father’s arm around her shoulders while Mother laid her head against his chest. I stopped to observe them before they noticed me. It was a rare thing to catch my parents looking so much like a couple in love, and it made my heart squeeze with the reminder that I was alone.

  My mother was teary as she bid me farewell and I was surprised at how difficult it was to keep my own composure. “Faria is not so very far,” I reminded my mother as she hugged me for the third time.

  “It’s far enough.”

  “And remember, I may be bac
k in a month if he doesn’t approve of my skills.” If he did approve, then I would stay for six months, or even longer if the master invited me to continue.

  She pulled back to look me in the eye. “Never,” she said.

  My father went over the travel details with me once more before we all walked out the front doors, back onto the scene of carriage preparations. This time my mother stood with me on the top step, her arms holding onto mine as we both watched my father approach my guards and the coachman, no doubt to go over the details once more.

  Only a few moments later, I stepped up into the carriage. Sarah was already situated on the bench across from me, her eyes bright. She’d never been outside of the town that surrounded the castle, had never seen any other portion of our kingdom. She looked forward to our adventure, which helped me to quiet my fears and give a genuine smile to my parents as we pulled away from my home.

  As we drove, not even the jostling of ruts and uneven roads could interrupt my harried thoughts. Would I like Lord and Lady Brook? Would Master Sterrino see my talent, or would he see every flaw and declare me incompetent? Would I meet other painters who understood the way my thoughts translated nearly every scene to color combinations and brush strokes? Would I find someone I could consider a friend?

  That last question sent me into memories of growing up with my sisters, watching as they played and whispered while I sat just outside the friendliness and wondered why I couldn’t have that. Then came the memories of Ella and the anger I’d felt when she so easily discarded her responsibilities as a princess in exchange for running wild in the gardens. I hadn’t understood how she could set aside something that I’d felt a keen responsibility to embrace, living up to every expectation set on us. How could I be a satisfactory member of the royal family if my sisters—those I was with constantly—didn’t embrace the same sense of propriety that our position demanded?

  It wasn’t until later that I realized that my anger had less to do with Ella’s setting aside her royal duty, and much more to do with my inability to do the same. I had exhausted myself with living up to my own too-lofty expectations, never letting my guard down, never letting my want of friendship or fun override my determination to be all that was royalty.