The paintbrush was too wet.
Pigment concentrated through the boar-hair bristles, sluicing out in irregular blots and smudging the line I’d wanted crisp.
“Hold still,” I murmured, barely moving my lips as I dabbed the brush on a rag, lest I somehow jar the moment before me and lose its magic forever. “Just one minute more.”
The corner of Artie’s lips trembled as if fighting the urge to break into a grin.
“I’m almost finished,” I promised. “Just…” I flicked the brush across the canvas, capturing the gleam of impish merriment brightening my nephew’s eyes. “There. It’s perfect.”
“I want to see! I want to see!” Artie exclaimed, falling out of his carefully arranged pose and tumbling over himself as he dashed behind the easel. His eyebrows fell. “That’s not what I look like. Is it?”
I studied the rendering with a critical eye before glancing back to the little boy before me. Thick waves of dark hair like mine, like most Thaumases, but with his father’s button nose. “I think it’s a fine likeness.”
“Very fine,” a voice affirmed from the doorway behind us.
“Mama!” he cried, racing off to give his mother a hug. “Am Idone now?”
Camille raised an eyebrow at me, seeking confirmation. I set down my palette and nodded.
“All done.” Camille pressed a swift kiss to the top of his head before he was off, racing down the hall, breathless with pent-up energy.
“How was he?” she asked, entering the Blue Room to study the portrait more closely. Her amber eyes missed nothing. “This arrived for you this morning,” she said, handing me a thick envelope. It was marked with several palace seals.
Mercy.
“A little squirmy but that’s to be expected.” I ran my thumb under the flap, ready to rip open the envelope and dig out my sister’s letter, but I paused, watching Camille take in the painting.
“It’s a lovely painting,” she complimented. “I can’t believe he’s five now. Where have the years gone?” My sister brushed a strand of burnished auburn hair from her face and her fingers fluttered over the corner of one eye, feeling at the nonexistent lines she worried were beginning to creep in.
“Mybirthday is coming up, you know,” I mentioned, keeping my voice as light and casual as I could.
She frowned as though I’d accused her of something. “I wouldn’t forget that, Verity.”
“I didn’t mean— Only…maybe we could talk about what we should do this year?” I turned on my stool, looking up. “I thought perhaps we could go to the mainland? To the capital? Mercy said—”
“It’s not Mercy’s place to say anything,” Camille said, glancingat the envelope in my lap. I could see she wanted to snatch it up and read the missive for herself but instead she stepped forward, squinting at a brushstroke.
“She said that Icouldstill be presented at court, if we wanted to. Eighteen is a little older than most girls, but—”
Her sigh stopped me short. “I would have loved to take you at sixteen. You know that.”
“Only I was at Hesperus, helping Annaleigh with the baby,” I supplied, knowing her excuses by heart. “But last year—”
“Last year we were in the middle of the east wing renovations. It was hardly the time for a long, extravagant trip.”
“I know,” I said, tucking a bit of hair behind my ear. She was bristling for a fight, and if she started snapping, I knew it would be impossible to sway her. “I know, I know, I know. But now…the house is all done. The children are old enough to travel. I’m sure they’d all love to see Arcannus.”
Camille shook her head, backing away from the canvas, her eyes drifting around the room as if looking for something to improve. She approached a chaise and plumped a down pillow until it stood on its own like a tuft of meringue. “Oh no. The children would never come with us to court. They’d stay behind with their governess, of course.”
I took a quick breath, hope reaching high into my chest like a man drowning at sea and grasping for a life raft. “But we…we could go? Oh, Camille, think of how fun it will be! We haven’t been to the mainland since Mercy moved to court. Annaleigh could come, too, and I’m sure Honor would join us. Foresia isn’t that far from the capital, and perhaps even Lenore…” I stumbled to a halt as I always did whenever Lenore came up.
My third oldest sister was a complete mystery to me.
“Lenore is Lenore. I doubt she’d…” Camille ran a quick hand over her hair again, as if assuring herself that everything was still in place. “All of that does sound…It could be quite agreeable,” she allowed. “But your birthday is next week. There’s no possible way we could have everything ready by then. The travel alone is a full day by our fastest clipper. Perhaps we could arrange something this fall? Before Churning.”
My face fell.
We wouldn’t.
