The Way Back (Champions of the Crystal Book 4)

Chapter 14.6

It was not part of the Zarn tradition to watch the burial itself, and most of the mourners were leaving, streaming toward the other side of the villa to their parked flyers. Ford and Sabrina paused as Reese came up to them.

"That was beautiful," Reese said, hugging Sabrina. "Grandfather would have loved it. And your highness, thank you so much for coming. It was a great honor."

Ford's smile was rather rueful, and he made no reply. Sabrina couldn't speak at all. Reese waited a moment, then said, "If you'd still like to pick up your paintings, Lady Sabrina, I have them ready for you."

"Thank you, yes," Sabrina managed to choke out.

Reese led them into the house, to a small room in its center. "They are in there," she said, opening the door. "Grandfather left specific instructions that no one else was to be present when you first looked at them. They're all sealed in preservation boxes."

Sabrina frowned, puzzled, and glanced at Ford. He said, "Perhaps they're personal. I'll wait out here, but if you want me, just call."

She nodded and went inside, closing the door behind her. Five boxes awaited her; one a short, wide one, as if it contained a landscape; one a normal portrait size; and three smaller ones, perhaps 11 x 14. Sabrina decided to start with the small ones and work her way up.

The first was a close-up of her face, her hair hanging loose around it, and Sabrina instantly recognized why Tassan had not deemed it suitable for public display: her expression was quite definitely a come-hither look. She put it back in its preservation box, opening the next to find a similar theme. But this time, instead of leaning forward, she was leaning back against a cushion, one arm thrown up around her head. The painting ended just below her collarbone, but no clothes were in evidence. The third small painting showed her leaning up on her crossed arms on a cushion, laughing. No clothes in that one either, and quite a display of cleavage, she noted, biting her lip.

She wasn't sure what she felt about this collection. It certainly was not suitable for decorating her apartment at Palace Royal. And yet she recognized them for what they were: some of Tassan's fondest memories of her, during the time they spent hidden away together from the rest of the world. If they were erotic, well, passion had been a large part of their relationship. She knew she would not have been pleased to find he had forgotten it.

The larger portrait was one she remembered posing for. She recalled the occasion clearly: they had spent the night in her conservatory apartments, and she had decided to pose for him, but only on her terms, and only if he promised never to show either the hologram or the finished result to anyone else. She'd been feeling playful that night, she remembered. There had been too few of those moments in their brief, intense relationship. She smiled as she remembered his expression when she grabbed the sheet off the bed—made of very fine, almost transparent linen—and wrapped it around her naked body, then posed with her arms raised, tucking a red rose behind her ear. Tassan had preserved some degree of modesty by ending the portrait at her waist, but the sheet seemed to reveal far more than it concealed. This was definitely not for display, she thought.

Inside the largest box was a note, and she paused to read it before looking at the painting. It was from Tassan: "Dearest Sabrina, I've left these to you with instructions that no one else look at them. I hope they do not offend you. If they do, destroy them with my blessing. If not, I hope they will remind you of what I regard as the best part of my life. You were with me in my dreams throughout my life and gave me more pleasure than I ever deserved. Forgive me for needing to put some of that on canvas, to remember. With all my love, Tassan."

Sabrina paused to wipe tears from her eyes and looked at the last box with trepidation, pretty sure of what she would find there. Sure enough, it was a full-length picture of her reclining against a pile of cushions, nude. She was holding a peace rose to her face to smell and smiling rather mischievously; Tassan had caught that expression perfectly. The rest of it... She smiled and shook her head. She had never looked like that, she was sure. She knew she'd been thin and pale from stress, overwork, and poor rations during the Regency, not at all like this voluptuous figure with glowing skin. This was Tassan's fantasy memory of her, not the true one.