The Heir of Night

41

Theia had spent two weeks in Velaris. After the first few days, she began growing more comfortable with being around Nyx's family alone. Her interest, piqued by the visit the the Rainbow, had her asking to join Feyre in her studio. The High Lady happily obliged, and Theia had spent the better half of a week sat beside the female as she taught her brush strokes and technique.

Today, on a particularly sunny afternoon, Theia sat on a chair, legs crossed, studying Feyre's hand as she painted the thin strokes of grass. The High Lady's art held more realism than Theia's. Each detail was precise and exact, where Theia's was blurred. Her other two canvases were proof that the landscape was only decipherable from a distance.

"Like this," Feyre murmured, flicking her wrist up, brush pinched between two fingers and her thumb, as she added blades of grass. Theia bit down on her tongue, turning her focus to her own canvas and mimicking her movement. The blades turned to splotches.

"Cauldron," Theia grumbled, dropping her hands to her knees.

"Use less paint. Coat the brush only enough for one thin line, then use the remainder to map out your other blades," Feyre instructed. Theia watched as she took the brush from her hand and wiped it on her already messy pants. Feyre twisted the brush in the edge of the paint, leaving very little on the brush. Theia took the brush and brought it back to the canvas, flicking her wrist up. Indeed, a perfectly thin blade of grass emerged. Feyre clapped, nodding her head in encouragement before returning to her painting.

It was of the Sidra in the spring, she had explained. Theia wondered how she could do something so perfectly from memory. There were very few things that Theia remembered the details of, but when she thought of it, Maia's face came to mind.

"How long did it take for you to perfect portraits?" Theia asked, glancing at the High Lady as she dipped her brush into the faint green again.

"Portraits are difficult, depending on how much you wish to add in details. My first ones were awful, I had to repaint them a decade ago. If you want it to resemble the person perfectly, you'll have to first practice your shading. I'd say that is the most important piece when it comes to a person," Feyre explained, eye twitching as she studied her blades of grass and then moved to clean her brush.

"How do I perfect shading?" Theia asked, sitting back against the chair to stare at her painting.

"The best way is to set an object beside the window and try and match the shadows. Azriel helped me with it when I needed to practice; he added shadows to objects and I copied them," Feyre answered, shooting Theia a quick grin before adding another orange flower to the bush she had painted.

Theia contemplated that, wondering if she had enough time here to perfect her artistic skills. She had none to start with, but Feyre was a wonderful teacher. Theia had begun to miss the village a few days before. She missed her home, despite the changes made to it, but then Nyx climbed into her bed and held her to his chest and she realized she didn't need to return to the village.

He hadn't left her to sleep alone since they've arrived, yet he hasn't made another move to seduce her. It was as though Nyx sensed that Theia needed to establish herself in this new life before letting him in again. He stayed by her side, talking and walking with her when he wasn't training, and slept beside her each night. He gave her the space she needed some days, and never overstepped her boundaries. Theia was grateful for the change in him, but she still didn't feel whole.

Even though the Inner Circle, as Rhys called them, were entertaining, Theia hadn't joined in on their glee and laughs. She still felt swallowed by grief and the abyss that haunted her. The best Theia could do was distract herself, like she was with the painting lessons. Each night, when Nyx fell asleep too quickly beside her, she stayed awake and dwelled on the life that was slipping through her fingers. It was as if she expected herself to grow accustomed to this new life too quickly, and her mind was falling back each step slowly.