Page 12 of Oracle's Reign
Four
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Two days afterthe feast, Yslie stood outside the prince’s studio. She hadn’t realized when Pianti first mentioned the portraits that the prince would be the one doing the painting. She had assumed he’d be posing with each oracle, the sessions nothing more than an excuse for the women to have an hour of relative privacy with him every other morning. Yslie had been relieved that they’d have a chance to talk without the weight of the court or the Assembly pressing on them.
Now, she suspected she had the reasoning for the unconventional socializing backward. The time was certainly about allowing the prince to get to know each of his potential brides, but the painting was to make him comfortable, not them.
After the feast and performance, Yslie felt like she had a good sense of the prince. What she knew should have made it easier to knock on the door and dive into this next hour of private conversation. Unfortunately, hope was a terrifying emotion for her. Drexlir had taught her how much worse a fall could be when she let hope lift her up first.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she hadn’t come all the way to Kalitalo to give up. Maybe she couldn’t beat Triese at her own games, but Yslie wasn’t playing a game. No one should play when it came to such important matters. Not only the empire, but the prince himself deserved better.
She knocked on the door.
The prince welcomed her inside, standing back as she looked over the studio.
It was a medium-sized room, with several windows along the back wall and an arched doorway, covered only by a beaded curtain, to the side. A folding screen hid one corner next to a washbasin with a chipped and stained bowl. Near the center of the room, the prince’s collection of art supplies was arrayed neatly on several tables, with a padded stool in front of an easel.
Several instruments, from the commongohtadar, flute, and drums to more exotic instruments she couldn’t name, lined one side wall. The room was comfortable, with the air of frequent use rather than display. Yslie took it all in, breathing easier as the serenity of the space sank into her.
She turned to face the prince and realized he was nervous. The last of her own nerves disappeared. She reached up and unhooked the veil that still caused her problems, allowing it to dangle on one side of her face. “Your studio is lovely.”
He stared at the veil for a long moment. No, Yslie corrected herself, her cheeks growing warm. He was staring at her lips.
“Dyela?”
He startled, as if he hadn’t even noticed he was staring. “Sorry, I was imagining how I could paint you. I know the space is a bit bare, but there are plenty of props in the next room we can use to set the scene.” He gestured at the curtained doorway. “If you want something I don’t already have, I’ll get it before our next session.”
“I assumed you would choose the pose,dyela.”
He shook his head. “No, this portrait is to highlight your personality.”
“I’m not an artist. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Yslie’s heart pounded. It felt like a trap—a test she was doomed to fail.Yet she didn’t think the prince wanted to trick her. “It sounded like you already had an idea. Why don’t we do that?”
He frowned. “You are the person the portrait is meant to portray. I don’t want to paint my version of you, but the true you.”
Yslie doubted either would make for much of a portrait. The more she thought about it, the less she liked the idea of any portrait altogether. The prince might be more comfortable with a paintbrush in hand, but she’d never relax while she posed for him. What she needed was a way to rekindle the ease with which they had spoken before their identities were revealed.
“Will the painting be shown to anyone else?” she asked.
“Not unless you wish it.”
“Then I don’t want to pose at all.”
His shoulders drooped. “While no one plans to check on the portrait, I think people will notice if we don’t meet.”
“I’ll still come,” Yslie reassured him. She couldn’t decide if he was worried about getting in trouble or disappointed by the thought of not painting her. Surely he couldn’t care that much about having her as a subject? “If we stay in your studio, no one has to know you aren’t painting my portrait.”
“If we still meet, I don’t think they’ll care. The portraits were my idea. I thought it would be better than playingphanover and over. I’m afraid I’m not the most riveting of conversationalists.”
Yslie raised a brow. “You could talk about paint drying and it would still be more interesting to me than posing for a portrait.” She smiled as the perfect solution to make them both comfortable came to her. “Actually, that’s what we should do.”
“Talk about paint drying?”
“In part. But I meant talk about painting in general. You could teach me. I’d much rather join you behind the easel.”
“You want me to teach you how to paint?”
Her excitement waned. “Unless you object,dyela?”
