"What is it?" Darius said in a solemn voice.
Livia stood at the door as thought she was a stranger, she held onto the door frame and blinked slowly. "You are painting again?"
Darius set the paintbrush down with more force than he intended, the soft clatter against the edge of the table a sharp punctuation in the quiet room. The morning light spilled in from the tall windows, catching the unfinished canvas in gold, the face half-rendered in strokes of ochre and carmine.
Livia remained in the doorway, her hand still resting lightly against the carved wooden frame. "You are painting again?" she repeated, her voice gentler now, tempered with a careful wonder.
Darius did not answer right away. He stared at the canvas, at the likeness of Serena in profile, her expression contemplative, her gaze caught on something beyond the frame. It was far from finished, but the emotion had poured out of him in such a rush that it startled him.
He turned his head, jaw taut. "Is that such a surprise?"
Livia blinked. "Yes," she said plainly. "You haven’t touched a brush since..."
"Since Mother died. I know," he snapped.
She stiffened, her lips parting in surprise. For a moment, silence swelled between them, thick and brittle.
Darius exhaled and closed his eyes briefly. "Forgive me. That was uncalled for."
Livia’s hand fell to her side as she stepped into the room at last. "You act as though someone stole a prized possession from you. Angry are we today?"
He took a seat on the low bench before the easel, running a hand through his red hair, now streaked faintly with grey at the temples. "Elder Iris brought concerns to the council this morning. There is unrest brewing in the river towns. Prices for grain have surged again, and Ironshade’s coffers cannot stretch to patch every hole left by the past two decades of isolation."
Livia drew nearer, her expression thoughtful. "Iris has always worried for the commonfolk. But if she brought it to you now, it must be pressing."
"It is," he murmured. "And there is the matter of these trade talks. They are going better than expected, but I fear Dawnbreak’s offer will come with snares. And Serena..." He stopped, catching himself.
Livia quirked a brow. "Yes? Serena?"
He shook his head, tone evasive. "Never mind. These are not matters for this hour. Not when I have barely held my temper in check all day."
Livia glanced at the canvas again, her gaze softening. "So, you chose to paint."
He gave a wry smile. "I needed the quiet. And something to remind me that I am not simply an heir to trouble and treasuries. She encouraged me once... said perhaps the gods gave me this gift so I wouldn’t forget I had a soul." Latest content published on NoveI(F)ire.net
"She?" Livia asked knowingly.
Instead, he stood and made his way to the small side table where a pitcher of wine and two goblets sat untouched. He poured a modest measure into each and handed one to Livia.
"Thank you," she murmured, accepting it.
They stood in companionable silence for a few heartbeats, the sunlight warm and soft around them.
"Have I told you lately that I’m grateful for you?" Darius said suddenly. "You’ve carried your share of this burden better than I had a right to expect. Mother would have been proud of you."
Livia’s throat bobbed slightly, and she looked away, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That’s kind of you to say. I... I wasn’t sure if I was truly helping or simply standing in the background."
"You’ve done more than you know," he said. "And besides, you’ll have someone else to fuss over soon."
Livia turned to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
He grinned faintly. "Nathan returned last night."
Her eyes widened. "Nathan? Truly?"
He nodded, his mood visibly lightening. "Apparently he finished his work at the border towns earlier than expected. Rode through half a storm to get here. He was asking after you, actually."
Livia flushed slightly and rolled her eyes. "I’m sure he was only being polite."
Darius chuckled. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. You know how he is. I told him he’d find you at tomorrow’s gathering."
"Nathan always did prefer the company of chaos," she muttered. "He must’ve missed us terribly."
Darius gave a slow nod and set his cup aside. He returned to the canvas and stood before it, arms crossed. "I missed him too, if I’m honest. There are few who understand what we’ve all been through."
"Then you should make time to see him properly," Livia said. "And rest. You look like you’ve fought a battle today."
He offered a tired smile. "Feels like I did."
She paused, then took a step closer. "Would you mind if I stayed with you a while?"
He looked over at her, one brow raised. "Here?"
She gave a sheepish smile. "You’re not the only one who needed the quiet today."
He gestured toward the cushioned bench near the hearth. "Then by all means. I’ll clean my brushes while you plot your silent conquest of the world."
Livia gave a theatrical curtsy and settled down gracefully. "Only the parts that matter."
Darius returned to his paints, the corners of his mouth still curled in a faint, rare smile. For a little while, the burdens of Ironshade receded, just long enough to remember what still tethered him to hope.
Livia tucked her legs beneath her as she settled onto the cushioned bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She watched Darius clean his brushes with slow, practiced movements.
"You’ve improved," she remarked.
"Perhaps," he said, glancing at the canvas. "She makes it easier to remember how."
Livia smiled faintly, then added, "Do you think you’ll show her?"
Darius didn’t answer. Instead, he wrung out the brush and set it aside before turning toward her. "I meant to ask, how is Charlotte adjusting to-"
"I do not know anyone named Charlotte," Livia said quickly, interrupting him.