Pale Painter Ch. 01

Both women complied immediately. Two servants pulled out their chairs for them, and they took their seats. Everyone was served the first course, hot chicken with macaroni and cheese. Rosanda had to pinch the cloth covering her mouth and hold it a certain way, carefully putting her utensil under the veil. She didn't want to stain the fabric.

Kutberth I took on a merrier tone. "What does the lovely Rosanda do when she isn't modeling for her step-mother?" Kosette started to say something, but the king's hand rose. Then he made a short, smooth gesture towards Rosanda, and said, "I'd like to hear your own words, Miss."

Rosanda nudged her glasses up a little bit. The temples of the spectacles were tucked into the hole that exposed her eyes. "Your Majesty, I'm humbled to know that you've taken an interest in my affairs." She hesitated, but when she saw the king nod, she continued. "I have some hobbies, I suppose, but I haven't dedicated much time to them. I've been preoccupied with ... studying under my step-mother." Her voice was muffled, but otherwise audible.

Kosette rushed to say, "She's been a patient student."

Kutberth I's eyes seem to brighten with inquisitiveness. His admittedly pleasant lips framed a charming smile.

Rosanda tried to ignore the warmth in her face.

"Have you enjoyed painting, Miss Lunai?" His voice was so relaxed, yet earnest, that Rosanda almost believed he wanted to know about her as a person.

"Yes, Sire."

"Do you suppose you might become as skilled as your step-mother one day?"

A stinging, shivering pain went through her heart. Rosanda tried not to flinch, but she did hear her gloves crinkle as her fingers tightened around her fork. "I can only hope, Sire."

"What other activities have you enjoyed?"

Rosanda pushed her glasses up again. It really was becoming a bad habit. "I suppose, when the sun is hidden, I might walk about."

"When the sun is hidden?" His head tilted. For a moment, Rosanda could smell his cologne; it smelled like spiced liquor and leather. The king went on with his polite, yet strong voice. "Is your skin delicate?"

"Very delicate, Sire." Rosanda shrugged.

"What are your other hobbies?"

"I do love an exciting novel." Rosanda was starting to get bored with the conversation, despite the fact that she was talking to a handsome king. She imagined that this conversation was pointless. He was a married man.

Then she remembered a proposition a wealthy married man once gave her, years ago, back when she was barely an adult.

And then she realized that kings were probably the same, probably worse, because they had more power.

Well ... shit.

"I'm terribly sorry, Sire, but I believe I've lost my appetite."

Kosette gave her a mildly concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Rosanda nodded, and then she asked the king, "Sire, may I please be excused?"

The king's eyelids flinched, but he gave his permission. "I'd hate to strain the beautiful model. Go on, then."

Rosanda rose, curtsied, and left the dining room.

She thought a nap would clear the anxiety from her mind.

After the nap, she was able to paint later in the day. She was actually a little bit proud of herself. Being one's own muse had its benefits.

And as she tried to sleep that night, she wondered about something. What if somebody commissioned a portrait of themselves? How was Rosanda meant to paint an image of a customer without letting them know she was the artist?

Rosanda decided to tell her step-mother that as soon as this pornography problem was finished, they needed to go home.

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