The Nine Princesses Revised Edition (Volume One)

Chapter 72: Questions

Ivy had never been a fast thinker. Nor did she know how to deceive. She could think of no way to respond to Uncle Jarrod other than to say, "Yes. I'm doing a painting."

Uncle Jarrod remained in the doorway, confused. His eyes strayed again to the drawing, and he took a few slow steps into the room. "Which one are you?"

"Ivy." She sat calmly, hands in her lap. Though his sudden appearance had startled her, she didn't feel afraid. He wasn't angry-she would have sensed it if he were. He looked only puzzled and curious.

"I like to paint things." Ivy realized this was probably the first time in her life she was speaking directly to Uncle Jarrod. Other than 'hello' and 'farewell,' they had never shared a conversation. She'd never desired or sought out his attention.

He stopped by her side, glancing around the room. "Any other sort of chair in here?"

"There's one at my writing desk."

"Ah yes. I see it." Uncle Jarrod picked up the thin wooden chair and positioned it by Ivy in front of the drawing. With a heavy grunt, he sank into it and stared at the image with a thoughtful frown.

Ivy felt some embarrassment, but she wasn't dying. She gestured lightly at the image. "I never really know what's going to inspire me. I just paint whatever comes to mind. You like it?"

Uncle Jarrod pointed at the etched line of Roald's profile. "That is exactly how he looks. Which is astonishing, considering he's not here to sit for you. When did you see him last?"

"At your wedding. He's always been very kind to me."

"I'm sure he was." To her surprise, Uncle Jarrod smiled and his tone took on the pleasant conversational style he used when in company. "Do you know I used to paint a little myself? In my younger years. I had a classical education and was required to learn. For one season, I was really taken with it, especially with painting trees in autumn colors. I was heavy-handed with the reds, I remember." He chuckled. "But then I moved on to other things."

Ivy nodded. "It was a passing interest. It wasn't your passion."

"No. But I can see it's yours. I would very much like to watch the progress of this painting."

"Sure! I'll show it to you as I work on it."

Uncle Jarrod smiled at her, eyes crinkling with friendliness. Ivy sensed he was starting to like her a little. He probably found her cute-most people did. But Ivy didn't want to be cute. She wanted to be impressive and respectable.

"If all goes well, would you consider gifting this to the palace of Grunwold? My wife would probably love it. She's taken such a liking to Roald, treating him as her own son. She never had children of her own, you see."

"Oh. Well, if you think she'd like the painting, I would be honored. I like it when people want my paintings."

Uncle Jarrod laughed. "Most artists do." He studied the drawing again and his dense eyebrows drew together. "Wherever did you see a palm tree?"

"Pardon?"

He pointed to the strange tree she had drawn growing out of the sand. "That's a palm tree. They grow in hot realms such as Bella Reino. Have you been to Bella Reino?"

Ivy shook her head, fearing difficult questions. "No... but I've heard about them. And I think some of our books have pictures." She hoped that explanation would suffice. She had seen a few in paintings before, though she didn't know they were called palm trees.

"It's accurate." Uncle Jarrod sounded impressed. "My wife is from Bella Reino. Wasn't born there, but lived there many years. I met her when I took a long holiday."

"I see. Is that how Roald met... his future wife?" She felt chills because she'd almost said 'Teresina.' Uncle Jarrod would not expect her to know the name of Roald's betrothed, and it might alert his suspicions. He could not know about her correspondence with his son.

"No. I don't know how he met her."

He said it casually, but Ivy thought an attentive father would know something like that. Had he never even bothered to ask Roald? Since his manner still did not feel hostile, she thought she could chance another cautious remark.

"He must be very happy about the coming wedding."

Uncle Jarrod snorted. "Happy as Roald ever is. The boy's always been a sad-eyed pup."

"Do you think... do you think...." Ivy struggled to control her heart rate. She felt this line of questioning was risky, but maybe-just maybe-she could do some good for Roald. Plant a seed of doubt, however small, in his father's heart. "Do you think the marriage will make him happier?"

Uncle Jarrod drew a deep breath. "At this point, it can do no worse. He's broken off too many engagements; he needs to show commitment. The girl will keep him steady. She knows what she wants."

Ivy heard it. Beneath the pleasant tenor of his talk, she heard that one strained note when he talked about the girl, out of tune with the rest of his melody.

Uncle Jarrod didn't like Teresina.

Ivy carefully hid her excitement. This was hope. He probably just tolerated Teresina because he wanted to see Roald married and settled. But if he wasn't fond of her, he might be willing to see her go, even if it meant a fifth broken engagement. She wondered if Roald knew.

Uncle Jarrod stood, grunting again. "Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself. I'll let you work. Remarkable image, though-almost as if you have second sight." He patted Ivy's shoulder and headed out of her room.

Ivy blew the air out of her lungs as if she'd been holding her breath throughout his visit. Holy ankles, Giles! No-she didn't want Giles. She dragged the chair Uncle Jarrod had used back to her writing desk and pulled her letter to Roald out of a narrow drawer.

She still had space at the bottom of the page. But her pen hovered in uncertainty. This letter would be sitting in the palace of Grunwold, waiting for Roald's return. Anyone might come and read it. The lighthearted stories she had shared were safe enough, but not her thoughts on Uncle Jarrod. It wouldn't be wise to write those down.

She bit her lip and looked at her window, at the ruffled green tops of Lumen trees in the distance. Somehow, she needed to see Roald in person.