“Agreed.”
Roman stood and walked to the far wall, pulling down a large, cream-colored slab of wood. He slapped it onto his workbench, sending a cloud of sawdust into the air that dusted his midnight hair and feathers with sandy particles. He found the chisel where it had landed and flipped it in his hand. The sharp edge bit into the wood, peeling back layer after layer. His muscles flexed under his rolled-up sleeves.
I settled into the rocking chair, eventually pulling the quilt from behind me and wrapping myself in it. It was fascinating to watch him work, the intense focus he brought to each movement. We spent most of the remaining day in silence. I didn’t mind; the silence around Roman was comfortable.
Chapter 14
ESTRELLA
It had been nearly a week since I awoke to find the room next to mine completely transformed. The desk Roman had crafted for me was central, its surface adorned with stars and swirling patterns of ozone intricately carved into the polished wood. The walls were draped in a kaleidoscope of colorful fabric rolls, arranged in a vibrant rainbow that seemed to dance with life. I immediately secluded myself, immersing myself in the creation of a gown for the Levis party—the first time I would present myself to the world as the tsar’s acolyte.
Roman and Isabella had shown me nothing but kindness and respect. They included me in their conversations during meals and teatime, never scolding me when I accidentally spilled tea on the tablecloth or spoke my mind. Adjusting to being treated as a person rather than a pet had been a peculiar shift, but now the thought of returning to my previous existence made my skin crawl. I had made an agreement, and I intended to honor it. It seemed only fair after all that Roman had done for me.
This dress would undoubtedly fit the role of the devoted acolyte. If this was all I could offer the man who had given me a chance, I would do it well. The gown was sleeveless, with a corset bodice plunging intoa daring V at the bust. The skirts were tucked at the hip to reveal my thigh before cascading into a full bustle that flowed elegantly to the floor. The gown was far too revealing for a proper corset or even a chemise, so I had built them into the gown itself.
It took me a few hours to adjust to the sewing machine, but now the fabric molded effortlessly under my touch. The Kulta seamstress at the academy had one, but I had never been allowed to use it. Now, I understood how she managed to create gowns so swiftly; it had quickly become my new favorite invention.
There was still a chance for me, however slim. If I could build my own income and establish a business, I could seize control of my future. Perhaps I could even buy a small, safe haven for girls like me. It was a feeble hope, but it was all I had. Roman didn’t need to know that I still planned on leaving.
This was another reason I had secluded myself. If this gown was meant to attract potential customers, it had to be perfect. It had to make a statement, and with so much skin exposed, I would certainly draw attention. I hoped people would notice the intricate pleating and the graceful flow of the fabric around the bodice rather than focusing solely on its revealing nature. Being on the tsar’s arm would hopefully help minimize wandering eyes.
Yet nothing I did felt sufficient. I kept ripping out seams that were slightly misplaced or folds that didn’t lay right. I changed fabrics three times, but the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach never faded. It would have to do, though. Tomorrow, we were heading to the Levis House estate, and time was no longer on my side. This morning, I tidied up and ventured into the garden early, hoping to find some solitude before the castle became a flurry of activity.
It was a pleasant day. The early morning sun cast pink streaks across a periwinkle sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds too smallto hold any rain. The oppressive castle walls encircling the gardens blocked any uncomfortable wind, leaving only the crisp, dew-laden air of morning. I walked along the gravel path, listening to the last of the crickets and the first chirps of awakening birds.
The fountain came into view. Perched along its rim was a slender vampire, positioned before a massive easel and canvas. A soft blue aura radiated from him, reminiscent of the sky on a warm summer's day. His long white hair was swept back in a bun, with loose strands framing his face and nape. Though he was gangly, he possessed a feminine beauty, with angular features that held an otherworldly allure. He wore an ivory sweater and trousers, smudged with years of paint. His eyes were a subdued pink. When he looked up and smiled, even the dark circles under his eyes and the sharp angles of his face softened.
“I apologize if I’ve taken your seat, but I hope you understand, I rarely have time to paint,” he said, his voice airy and lilting. I nodded in understanding.
“Please, come sit beside me,” he offered, patting the space next to him.
As I approached, his painting came into focus. Although he used a nearby bush as a reference, calling his art realistic would be a disservice. Instead of the expected greens and light pinks, his canvas burst forth with electric purples and shocking yellows that seemed to leap off the surface. It was surreal and beautiful. His nimble, skeletal fingers placed the well-worn paintbrush on the palette beside him.
“You are the acolyte, right? You must cherish being outside after all you’ve endured.”
I nodded. “You have no idea.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “You might be surprised. Like you, I spent most of my life indoors. That’s why I find such joy out here. Being surrounded by greenery is refreshing.”
“I’m sorry. Few understand the dread of being trapped inside all the time,” I replied.
“Indeed. But there’s no need for pity. We’re here now, aren’t we? That’s reason enough to be happy. Besides, I’ve filled my room with plants. Now, I never feel confined indoors.” He winked at me, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
“Plants… indoors?” The concept seemed absurd. Surely, soil would need to be everywhere to keep them alive, and how would they be watered?
His lips pursed in disappointment. “You’ve never seen a houseplant before? How unfortunate. Allow me to show you.”
His hand hovered between us, palm up. A light blue aura gathered in the crevices of his slender hand, spreading up his fingers. Pieces of ceramic seemed to assemble from the aura, clicking together like a puzzle as they grew from his palm. A small bud sprouted and quickly surged upward, leaves unfurling as it reached for the sky. Within seconds, a full-sized plant sat in his palm, complete with a ceramic container of sage and white. It was stunning and surreal, just like his painting. The jagged leaves were deep burgundy, adorned with clusters of delicate pink flowers. He extended the small pot toward me, and I accepted it in awestruck silence.
“You can… create things?”
A melodic laugh bubbled from him, bright and airy. “Yes, mostly plants, but I’ve also become quite skilled at making pots. A plant in a pile of dirt doesn’t make for a good gift.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, marveling at the beautiful plant and its container. Roman’s gifts had been extravagant and immensely kind in his quest to help me, but this felt different—like he had gone out of his way just to be kind, simply because it was in his nature.
“What’s your name?” I realized, with a twinge of embarrassment,that I hadn’t asked sooner.
The vampire smiled at me, then turned back to his canvas. “Razvan, general of external affairs to the tsar. And you are Estrella, correct?”
