Pale Painter Ch. 08

Rosanda sighed. "He was a child, a little boy. He had only just been breeched. Papa was so proud."

"What were some of his favorite activities?"

"He loved to run around in the local park. I used to chase him."

Alex's smile was rather innocent. "Did he have any favorite toys?"

"He loved his hobby horse."

"I used to have one. I gave it to my brother, though." Alex nodded, seemingly to himself, and then he asked, "What happened to your father?"

Rosanda stretched out her legs and wiggled her pale little toes. "He died of a weak heart. Kosette was heartbroken for a long while."

"What of your mother?"

"She died a long time ago. She was coughing up blood and couldn't breathe correctly. Papa kept her separated from us, for our own safety."

"Were your parents good to you?"

"Yes, Sir. I still keep my love for them in my heart. My mother was gentle and loving. My father was my teacher. He was a fine painter."

Alex opened his mouth wide, revealing all of his teeth. Then he made a smacking noise with his lips. "I'm glad to know you were raised well."

"What was it like to be raised by monarchs?"

His shoulder quirked up. "I wasn't. I had a nanny, then a governess, then a governess with additional private tutors."

"Do you at least know your parents, as people, not as your rulers?"

"Yes." His eyes shifted a bit too much. "I know them."

"Do you care about them?"

"Why wouldn't I?" His smile was too uncomfortable looking, as if someone pulled his lips with wires.

"I suppose that was a ridiculous question." Rosanda scratched at her nape and shifted up a little on the mattress.

"I have an offer for you."

"Excuse me?" She turned her head to look at him.

His smile seemed much more natural, even warm. "I could purchase a house for you, close to the palace. I'd visit you there, and you wouldn't have to rely on the king."

Her heart fluttered. "Would you be willing to go through so much trouble for someone as common as me?"

"Certainly. I'll benefit from it immensely." He turned to her, and he put his arms around her in a mild hug. His lips brushed her cheek, and then he whispered, "All you have to do is accept my offer, and the king will have no choice but to admit defeat."

"I don't understand."

"If you refuse the king's offer to be your patron, and you accept mine to be my lover, then the moment you are settled into your new house is the moment where you will be out of the king's reach, according to common decency, at least."

Her fingers shot up to his arm. She pressed into the firm, warm muscles there. "How would I be out of his reach?"

"You'd be recognized as mine, not his, and he'll have no right to summon you to the palace. You'll be able to refuse him all you like."

"But ... Alex ... I don't want to be known as someone's lover." Her lip pouted for a bit. "I want to only be a painter."

His arms squeezed her a bit tighter. "Put aside your pride, Rosanda. If you simply refuse both of us, then my father will continue to pester you."

"Why?" She pried his arms off of her body, giving him a sad expression. "Why won't he let me be?"

Alex leaned back against the headboard, combing his brown hair with nervous fingers. His jaw was tightening for a moment. His eyes were darting one way and then another.

"Alex?"

He looked back at her. "It's because ... it's because I want you. That's the only reason."

A very uncomfortable moment of silence formed an invisible, temporary wall between them.

Then Rosanda broke the silence. "That doesn't seem logical to me."

Alex's fingers went to his temple and massaged the flesh there in small circles. "Why did your step-mother demand that you paint for her?"

With a casual shrug, Rosanda said, "I accidentally wounded her hand years ago. She claimed that she couldn't paint anymore, and it was all my fault. I owed her all the glory possible."

"Regardless, it's still an unreasonable demand." He looked away from her. "I imagine that she was jealous of you, and she wanted what you had. It's irrational, but a few parents have that sort of inclination."

Rosanda found the conclusion easily. Her white eyebrows rose. "Do you mean to say that your father is jealous of you?"

"The only woman I've ever wanted that he didn't steal away from me was my wife. I'm not including courtesans, by the by. My father never seemed interested in competing for them."

"Oh." Rosanda thought back on all the attention she had received from the king, and when she remembered the fondness she had felt for him, a sickening, chalky feeling scraped around in her stomach. "I ... I should confess that I've never had any ill will towards your father. In fact, I thought he seemed to be an honest, pleasant man, and quite handsome too. I can't call you handsome without saying the same of him."

"That's understandable. He has his charm."

"I'd rather not start a relationship with him, though. You seem much safer," she smiled then, and she patted his shoulder as she went on, "and I think you're much more honest."

His eyes were relaxed as he looked at her. "You've decided to accept my offer?"

She adjusted her spectacles. Then she shuffled closer to his body. She loved his warmth. "I have."

They embraced each other, then. It was a more innocent embrace.

Alex's voice rustled against her ear. "You could pack your things and hurry to the nearest hotel. Right now. I'll give you some money so you won't have need of anything. When I've secured the house, I'll send you there."

"How am I to refuse the king?"

"Write a letter for him."

That seemed nice, somewhat cowardly, but nice.

Alex kissed her ear, and he said, "I'll help you escape without detection. Don't fret, Rosanda. I'll keep you safe."

***