Sesse’s eyebrows rose into a knowing look. Rielle decided to ignore it. She needed to focus. And relax. When she’d made the mistake she’d been thinking about Dahli, and that was bound to ruin her concentration.
That his loyalty was to Valhan first was no surprise. He had never shown anything but dedication to the leader of worlds. What had been a revelation, other than his suspicions concerning her and everything about Baluka, was that he loved Valhan. Though Valhan did not return his feelings, Dahli’s were still strong. What a sad, frustrating situation to be in.
She had to admit, she felt like a fool. To think that I’d hoped Dahli and I might grow to be more than friends! She was glad she’d never said anything. Though… would he have read it from her mind while she was learning to become ageless? She thought back and was relieved to find that she hadn’t progressed beyond thinking of him as a friend at that point. It was only on the way back to the Arrival Hall that she’d considered it.
I wasn’t completely taken with the idea, anyway, she told herself. He was much older than her–not just a few cycles, but hundreds. He would always place Valhan’s needs and desires before hers, and she hadn’t truly considered what that would be like. It was probably better that she wasn’t the gender, or the person, he was attracted to.
It could be worse. She could have fancied Dahli while he yearned for Valhan, and Valhan desired… No. Valhan doesn’t regard me that way. He said as much when he took me from the Travellers.
Noises outside the room drew her attention, and she was glad of the distraction. Somewhere down the corridor people were cheering. She resisted the temptation to scan for minds. The last time she had, she’d read some very unflattering thoughts about herself.
Her attempts to befriend the artists had been a great failure so far. They saw her as one of the Raen’s sorcerers, and nothing more. One he’d left to keep his house in order when he wasn’t around–which was most of the time. When she had explained that he had brought her here because she was an artist they’d smiled and nodded, silently groaning at the prospect of flattering her, no matter how awful her art. To convince them she was truly an artist, she needed proof of her skills.
The trouble was, her skills seemed to have deserted her.
She stepped back to regard her efforts. The nose was more nose-like, but not Sesse’s nose. Tired of fussing, she decided to leave it as it was for now. She took a step back, examining the whole painting, and felt her heart sink.
“What are you afraid of?” Sesse asked.
Rielle turned away and began cleaning the brushes. Now that Sesse, at Rielle’s urging, had abandoned formality, a confident, outspoken woman had emerged. She could be very perceptive. Which reminded Rielle of… Sadness welled up inside her as she realised who. Betzi. Memories of the weaving workshop and her old friend stirred, and while she had no longing to return there she did miss her friend. I hope you are happy with your Captain, Betzi, she thought. You’d never guess what became of me.
She looked up at Sesse. The servant was watching her, and raised an eyebrow in expectation.
“Only that I’ve lost all ability to paint,” Rielle admitted.
“Because you’re ageless?”
“Yes.” She paused in surprise. “That was a very good guess.”
Sesse shrugged. “I overheard what Dahli said to you in the dining room. I don’t know about being ageless and a Maker, but I do know there have been and still are ageless who are painters. Amazing painters. Does making magic mean a lot to you?”
Rielle set down the brushes. “No. Not really.”
“Then stop worrying. You’re out of practice. But you have all the time in the worlds to get your skills back.”
She’s right, Rielle thought. I do have all the time I need. I may never be a Maker again, but all it will take to regain my skills is work. Lots of work. She straightened. I can do it. I will do it.
A sound dragged her attention away. Hurried footsteps in the corridor grew louder, then a head appeared in the doorway. A young servant, Penney, flushed with exertion and excitement, dropped to his knees.
“Sorcerer Rielle,” he said. “The rebels sent out the call.” His head was lowered, but his eyes watched her anxiously from under his brows.
Sesse sucked in a breath, grimacing in sympathy as Rielle glanced at her. “Oh, Rielle. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“How long ago?” Rielle asked Penney.
“Hours ago, I guess,” he replied. “This world is a long way from where they were planning to gather.” It was likely a battle was well underway, he was thinking. Or already over. He braced himself for her anger.
Interesting how everyone is concerned that I’ll be angry or worried, Rielle thought, yet I heard cheering before. Was it at this news?
“Thank you, Penney,” she said. “You may go.” He bowed, climbed to his feet and hurried away.
Pausing to regard the painting critically, she considered what to tackle next. Fix Sesse’s nose or start an easier painting?