Painting Rain (Books of Dalthia Book 4)

by Annette K. Larsen

  Ingrid’s visits became commonplace. She even brought her mother once, who seemed more than a little bit surprised to find herself having tea with me. However, Lady Brook was there to smooth the way and make everyone comfortable, while Ingrid and I shared looks that clearly communicated our amusement over the entire situation.

  I would have never expected to reach a point in my life where I could smile at the way that people perceived me—whether good or bad—but Ingrid had a gift for laughing at life, no matter the circumstance, and it was a trait I admired the more I knew her.

  I also found myself more apt to acknowledge those I passed on the street. Instead of keeping my eyes straight ahead, I enjoyed watching those around me and was more willing to stop and greet those who tried to approach. It seemed to increase my guards’ stress when I did this, but it also made them smile.

  The most surprising moment came when a little girl appeared beside me and, instead of saying hello, simply took my hand and walked alongside me. She reminded me so much of Ella’s daughter Guin that I allowed it after being sure to catch the mother’s eye.

  The little girl didn’t say anything, just walked, or skipped or jumped beside me until we reached the gate leading to the Brooks’ home. Then I leaned down to look her in the face as I spoke to her. “This is where I must stop, my dear. Will you run back to your mama?”

  Her response was a toothy smile before she scampered back to her mother’s arms. I waved and turned into the gate.

  Just before we reached the door, West grabbed my hand before leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I have news. Will you meet me in the garden?”

  I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile before he stepped back.

  His request intrigued me, since he’d never really asked for a meeting before. When I went out, I brought my drawing supplies with me, still mindful of the need for discretion despite my excitement.

  He did not show up right away, which was odd, and I ended up pacing beneath an arbor while rolling my pencil between my hands. As I turned to pace once again, I ran into West, who scooped me into an embrace. I laughed as he nearly squashed the breath out of me then left me completely breathless after a sound kiss.

  “I’m sorry I am late. It took me a while to convince Stephen that I should come out. I ended up telling him that I wished for the exercise because I was anxious over the letter I received today.”

  “What letter?” I asked, still trying to gain my bearings after his kiss left me wanting more.

  “It’s just as you said. Nadine wrote to me and said that her pains had subsided. She hadn’t experienced them for three entire days at the time she wrote the letter. And she continues to feel the little one moving.”

  “Oh West, I’m so relieved for you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, surprised at how affected I was by his happiness, by the opportunity to share in it.

  He sighed into my hair. “Thank you for not thinking I am a weakling.”

  “Why would I ever think that?”

  He drew back and shrugged. “Some people believe it’s a woman’s place to worry about babes.”

  “Anyone who does not believe a child’s welfare should be their concern is not someone I wish to know.”

  “Then we agree.” He sounded glad to find such agreement.

  “Besides, I don’t believe any man who serves in the royal guard could be considered a weakling. Far from it.”

  He dipped his head in humble acknowledgment.

  “Last week you mentioned that your desire had been to serve my father.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “Is that still your desire?”

  He gave a curious tilt of his head. “Didn’t I mention that I had given up on that endeavor?”

  “But why? You’re a knight, and you are certainly skilled enough.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  My brow pinched. Should it be obvious? “Not to me.”

  He wound my hand around his forearm and encouraged me to sit on a nearby bench. “I was an ambitious young man. I had squired for Lord Felwin for six years and he seemed impressed with my drive. Enough so that when I told him my desire to rise to the position of one of the king’s knights, he approved and agreed to help me in my quest.”

  I nodded when he looked at me, encouraging him to continue.

  “He helped me to secure a position with the royal guard, advising me on the importance of not only continually improving my skills with a sword, but also to live a moral life. Too many guards take their turn at their post and then gamble or drink their wages away. Those men never become more than infantry. I followed his advice and was surprised by how quickly I was knighted and asked to join Stephen in watching over one of the princesses.” He cut his eyes over to me with a grin. “But while I was surprised, it also made sense. Lord Felwin had been more correct than I would have imagined. Soldiers are not a particularly civil crowd. We are taught all the propriety and civility in the world as squires, but as soon as those young men are turned loose, a great many of them will sell their freedom to the nearest alehouse or the closest game of chance.”

  “It sounds as though you were perfectly positioned to keep rising in rank. Why didn’t you?”

  “As it turns out,” he tilted his head toward me as if sharing a secret. “I ended up quite captivated with my charge. Even as young as fifteen and sixteen, she was her very own exacting master, demanding more of herself than any master has a right to. But I also saw her in vulnerable moments. She became a mystery I needed to solve. A puzzle I wished to untangle. My ambition fell to the wayside and I wanted to continue knowing and protecting the young daughter of the king.”

  I sat speechless for a moment, awed that he would sacrifice what he wanted because of me. “You make me sound so much better than I am.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. “And yet I speak the truth.”

  I tried not to show how much that small gesture affected me.

  “Now, we’d best find some place within sight of the house for you to work.”

  I took a breath to calm my swelling heart, then tilted my head toward the veranda. “This way.”

  I settled into my work with the comfort of his familiar presence, basking in the joy of sharing his happiness.

  Over the next few weeks, I was able to work steadily, even joyfully, without any of Dante’s jealous comments, without Ingrid catching us off guard or Lady Brook seeming suspicious. My paintings progressed under the careful guidance of Master Sterrino and the encouragement of West. For perhaps the first time, I felt a balance settle into my life and each day I awoke excited for what was to come.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  It had taken weeks, but finally I stepped back, sinking onto the stool that I had abandoned what seemed like hours before. It was finished. Or was it? I looked over the painting, scrutinizing each brushstroke. The joy radiating from the girl’s face was unrestrained. Originally I had intended to keep her hair simple and tidy, but it had felt more truthful to have it windblown, almost creating a halo about her head. The light that danced off the water was lovely, and the entire background enhanced the subject instead of detracting from it.

  The sun was setting at my back, and had changed the light enough that everyone else had abandoned their easels. But I had been so close to finishing, and I knew that if I left those few details unfinished, it would be ten times harder to get them right tomorrow.

  Now I sat, rolling my shoulders and stretching my arm, grateful to be able to enjoy this sense of accomplishment without my fellow students close by. Instead I looked over to West, who sat as if already preparing to rush to my side. I reached a hand toward him. “Come and see.”

  He joined me, bending so that he could look over my shoulder and see what I saw. I turned toward him, his face so close, his stubbled jaw tempting. My elation was such that I gave in to that temptation and leaned forward, placing a little kiss on the underside of his jaw. He fought a smile. “Raina,” h
e scolded. “What if someone sees you?”

  “There’s no one here,” I said, my lips still close to his chin.

  “Yes, but any number of people could walk up those stairs at any moment.”

  “And yet, you’re not moving away,” I said with a little laugh and kissed the corner of his mouth.

  He allowed a grin to conquer his mouth before turning to press his lips to mine, making me smile in triumph. “You are a minx,” he said between kisses, which only served to make me smile again.

  I pushed myself to my feet so that he wouldn’t have to stoop over so much and slipped my hands beneath his jacket and around his back. I don’t know that I had ever kissed him quite like this before, holding nothing back.

  “West!”

  The shout made us jump apart, dousing our flirtatious kisses like cold rain. I covered my lips, embarrassed to be caught and riddled with guilt.

  Stephen stalked toward us, past the other workspaces, in and out of the rectangles of light that checkered the floor from the windows.

  “Stephen.” West fell back a step, his ears red. “I swear, this isn’t—we weren’t—”

  “I kept telling myself that I was being ridiculous, that I’d turned into a suspicious old man, letting my imagination get the better of me.” His face was a mottled red, his eyes searing as he stopped in front of us and looked at us both in turn. I’d never seen Stephen in such a fury.

  “It’s not his fault,” I said, but it was barely more than a whisper.

  He spared me a glance. “Of course it’s his fault. He knows better.” He turned his anger on West. “You can’t do this, West. You know that. You can’t protect her if you’re distracted by her all the time.”

  “My awareness of her makes me better at my job, not worse.”

  “I was just able to sneak up on you.” His voice rose another degree. “How do you explain that?”

  West’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “You’re right. I let my guard down for a moment, but normally—”

  “How do you suppose her father will react to this development?”

  “There’s no need to involve him,” West said, but his voice was less confident.

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed and he took a menacing step forward. “No need? To involve the king in his own daughter’s safety? Have you lost your mind?” His voice rose. “King Forrester is a good man and a fair one. But even he would object to having his daughter constantly going off alone with a guard who has already crossed the line of professional conduct. Either you end it, or I’ll be sure you are sent home and reassigned.”

  I stepped forward, pleading. “Stephen, please don’t—” I fell silent when his steely gaze fell on me.

  “I answer to your father, Princess. You know that.” He looked from me to West. “Now, fix this.” He yanked my cloak from a nearby table and thrust it at me. “We’re going back to the Brooks’ home now.”

  I didn’t argue, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it was. So I took the cloak and worked one-handed to put my supplies away as quickly as possible, West working silently to help. Then I threw the cloak around me and walked to the stairs, attempting to wrap myself in dignity as I led the way home without looking behind me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE NEXT FEW days were full of awkward avoidances and guilty glances. Stephen insisted on being the one to remain with me while I was in the studio. Walking to and from the villa, West always took the lead, while Stephen and I followed.

  I tried to bury my anger and disappointment in my painting, tried to put my creativity at the forefront and let that pull me along. But I must have been more angry than I thought, because I couldn’t simply set it aside. I finally knew what I wanted and it was something good. West was good. He would be good for me, and heaven willing, I would be good for him. But I couldn’t have it. I couldn’t even have a few stolen moments throughout the day.

  What if I gave up and went home? I could, but then what? I would be defeating myself and the purpose of this entire escapade. I had just found my balance and my determination. I had finally fallen into a confidence that I’d been lacking, and it was because of West’s support as much as Sterrino’s teaching. If I had one and not the other, or if I had neither, where would that leave me?

  I could write to my father, tell him my feelings and ask that he understand and that he allow West to stay; but I knew he wouldn’t stand for such impropriety. As it was, I worried that Stephen would come to the conclusion that it was not worth the risk and decide to send West off anyway. We would simply have to bide our time.

  When I returned to the Brooks’ home eight days after Stephen discovered us, it was to find a man standing in the sitting room, in the livery of a royal guard.

  I was brought up short. “Sir Jonas. What are you doing here?” My mind quickly skipped through the most likely reasons for his arrival. “Has something happened? Are my parents well?”

  “Yes, Highness. All is well.”

  I let out a sigh and allowed a smile to cross my face. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

  His eyes moved to West, then to Stephen before returning to me. “I’m to be in your service now, Princess.”

  My brow furrowed. “I thought my father agreed that two guards would be sufficient.”

  Jonas cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, but before he could say more, Stephen spoke up.

  “Sir Jonas is here as Sir West’s replacement, Princess Lorraina.”

  My mind had a difficult time processing his words. “I beg your pardon?”

  “He’s here to take over Sir West’s duties. Since you are familiar with Sir Jonas, it should be an easy enough transition.”

  “And why does Sir West need to be replaced?” I so seldom called him Sir West that it felt odd coming from my mouth, even wrong.

  “Because he will be returning to Dalthia castle.”

  I blanched. “He’s being dismissed?” I asked, wondering how such a drastic decision had been made without my knowing anything about it.

  “No, this was his decision.”

  I turned to look at West. He stood tall and confidently met my gaze. He didn’t contradict Stephen’s words or even look sorry for what they meant. Was it true, then? He was leaving? I couldn’t comprehend it. He would abandon me altogether because…because…why?

  I had to get out of this room.

  I think I murmured an “excuse me” before I quit the room and pushed my way through the outer doors. I paid no attention to where in the gardens I went, only kept walking and thinking and arguing with myself and with West in my head. I had probably pounded my way through every garden path by the time West came to find me.

  “Raina?”

  I jerked to a stop and spun to look at him. He still looked confident, almost defiant.

  “Are you allowed to be here, talking to me?” I asked, my voice crisp.

  “Stephen did not object to me bidding you farewell.”

  “This is farewell, is it? You’re leaving, just like that? You don’t think I deserved a say in the matter? You don’t think I would have appreciated knowing you would be leaving before I met your replacement?”

  “I could not risk you swaying my decision.”

  “It doesn’t only affect you!”

  “Believe me, I know that. You are the entire reason I made this decision.”

  “Because you’re afraid of breaking the rules? You’re afraid of the consequences?” I asked, desperate to understand, to undo whatever was happening. “I understand that, and I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn and unwilling to do more about it. I can write to my father. I can ask for his permission for you to court me. He would understand. I could make him understand.”

  “It’s not about permission, Raina. This is wrong.”

  I fought down my panic, trying to dredge up a solution. “You’re right. You wouldn’t be able to be my guard, but you could be reassigned. We could leave. We could go back tomorrow for all I care. Then
you could get a new assignment and I would no longer be your responsibility. My father would give his blessing and—”

  “And you could resent me in a few months’ time.”

  I pulled back. “I wouldn’t resent you.”

  “Of course you would. Because you love being here. When you paint you come alive. You need this. You deserve this. I won’t let you give it up for me.”

  “It’s my choice to make! And if you leave, I won’t be able to paint anything good anyway.”

  “That’s exactly why I have to go.” He stepped toward me, his voice earnest. “I can’t be responsible for your happiness or your success, Raina.”

  “So you would leave me here?”

  “I am doing the right thing.” His voice rose.

  “If you’re going to leave, then go! But we both know that calling something right doesn’t make it right.”

  He pinched his mouth shut and his nostrils flared. Then he shook his head. “I’m not going to fight with you,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m not Tobias.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I asked, disgusted by the idea. “You think I want you to be Tobias? I hate him! I hate what he did to me, what he turned me into. I hate that I trusted him, that I thought for even a moment that what we had was real, because now I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know if I can trust my own passions. Sometimes I don’t know if the thoughts going through my head are my own, or if it’s Tobias, his twisted ideas, his cutting cruelty. He didn’t want me, not really, not the way I was. He wanted only his version of me. The version that would fight about the stupidest things imaginable. So now I’m trying to be me, I’m trying to get him out of my head, but even being me, I’m not wanted.”

  “I want you.”

  “You’re leaving!” Because I wasn’t enough. I was never enough.

  He looked as though I’d punched him in the stomach. “That’s not fair, Raina.”

  I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth. “You have no right to ask me to be fair right now.”

  He took a step closer, his eyes tight. “You just told me that Tobias is still in your head. That he tried to turn you into something that wasn’t you.” He stepped forward again, his body tensed. “If you leave here, if you give up your painting, then you’ll be turning yourself into something for me. Is that really what you want? Do you think that’s what I want?”