“How dare you strike the king’s councilor!”
I pointed at Cedric, my hands trembling with anger.
“He insulted me and tried to slander my reputation. What should be done about that?”
At that moment, Edric appeared from the crowd.
He looked up at me, his voice loud and clear.
“Didn’t Father say it correctly? What else could you be if not a mistress?”
I looked at him coldly, no longer feeling any affection for my son.
“Edric, kneel.”
Mariette stepped forward, forcing him to kneel.
Her movements were far from gentle, and Edric winced in pain.
He was stubborn, still defiant as he asked, “Why should I kneel to you?”
My voice was cold and unyielding.
–
“First, by blood – for I am the mother who carried you. Second, by crown – for I am Prince Reynard’s chosen consort, the Princess–Consort of Aquitaine.”
I didn’t want to use Reynard ‘s power to force people into submission.
That’s why, when I returned to the capital, I kept my entourage small and didn’t reveal my true status.
Cedric stared at me for a long while, his face one of disbelief:
Edric froze. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.
Only Rosamund, supported by a maid, stood up and looked at me calmly, her smile still intact.
“The Princess of Verdantia is beautiful and accomplished. She is the perfect match for the Prince. She cannot possibly be someone like you. There are no outsiders here. If you change your story now, this matter will not be spread.”
Cedric seemed to come to his senses. His voice was hoarse.
“Let’s not even discuss how you entered the royal house. The Prince of Verdantia is a man of the highest choose a woman of unknown origins who is older than him?”
Mariette couldn’t help but laugh.
“Still lying to yourself,
my lord?”
I didn’t feel like explaining any further or creating more trouble.
“I’m sure he doesn’t have the blind eyes and foolish heart that you have.”
The steward had finished counting the dowry, and the servants began to carry it out.
I stepped across the threshold, not caring about the commotion behind me.
Edric must have finally understood my leaving, as he stumbled after me, hesitation in his voice.
“Mother, are you truly leaving?”
I looked back, glancing at Rosamund.
“Your mother is standing right there.”
He was silent.
I climbed into the carriage without a second glance.
status. He could have anyone, so why would he
I did not wish to speak of it to anyone else.
Reynard’s treatment of me had never been concerned with my age or status.
When I first arrived in Verdantia, I sold the only heirloom I had left–a single earring–to buy paper and ink, and made a living by selling my paintings. The Duchess of Verdantia took notice of my work and, despite objections, brought me into her household to tutor her sons and daughters.
The following year, at a gathering of scholars, the second son’s painting stirred the entire province, earning him a summons to the court of Duke Alaric. That same day, the Duke demanded to see me.
At the time, my face still bore the scars from a fall I had taken, and I wore a veil to cover them.
Reynard sat at the high table, as pure and elegant as a fine statue. He slowly turned the ring on his finger and asked softly, “Who was your master?”
I had no memory of such things and could only respond vaguely, “I taught myself.”
He sighed, but said no more. He stood up and walked over to present me with a damaged painting scroll.
“Can you copy this painting and complete it?”
The brushwork was familiar to me, though more immature than my current style.
I thought for a moment before answering, “Yes, but it will take some time.”
w x 27 cm Www.
Thus, I entered the Duke’s household and became his artist. In truth, I could have finished the painting in two days, but the longer I took, the more I
was paid.
Reynard was in no hurry. Occasionally, he would come to check on Arch My AN ILLI
“There’s no need to rush. She is exceptionally talented,” he would
As time passed, I began to feel more comfortable speaking.
my
progress and casually speak with me.
say, it’s o
only natural for you to take a little longer.”
“Where did you acquire this painting, Your Grace?”
Reynard’s eyes grew dim.
“I obtained it from my mother.”
I said “oh,” in understanding, as I knew nothing of affairs in the capital, and he trusted më
enough
to tell me more.
“In the twenty–third year of King Wyvernguard’s reign, my mother held a banquet for her –she was among them. This was her offering.”
name
day.
The noblewomen and their daughters were invited
I looked at the painting’s inscription: the winter of the year I came of age. That year, I was seventeen, and Reynard was only twelve.
“Who is she?” I murmured.
“She is someone I deeply admire,” Reynard replied. “More than love, it was admiration.”
Reynard was willing to tell me all about her. As night fell, I continued painting.
He sat on a stone bench in the garden, bathed in moonlight, sipping his wine in small sips.
“I only met her a few times,” he said.
I perked up, setting my brush down as I slowly ground the ink, fearing I might miss a word.
“I only saw her once through the curtain. Her features were unclear, but even then, she seemed like an angel.”
I was utterly captivated.
Reynard set his wine cup down and frowned. “You’ve been grinding ink for half an hour now.”
He had repeated these small stories for the better part of the hour, but I didn’t dare interrupt him. I quickly took up my brush.
After a long silence, he softly continued, “But three years later, she married, the year before I left for my duchy..”
I turned to look at him, my eyes wide, but he leaned back slightly, his hand covering his eyes.
The garden was silent, save for his sigh.
Open
“Ah…If she was happy, then it was enough…”
I waited for him to say more, but he fell quiet. After a moment, he dropped his hand and pretended to be annoyed.
“Keep painting.”
.
