Hidden in the Castle

Part 7

Chapter 6

Freezing, she felt horror claw at the edge of her mind.  This could not be happening.  As she stood there, in a mix of shock and dismay, her canvases were on fire.  She took a step closer to her borrowed bedchamber, feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest.  This could not be, she thought with a small whimper.  All her work, all the time she had spent in this blasted castle was burning. 

Another step forward brought her attention to the other parts of her room.  Nothing else seemed to be damaged, but if she did not act quickly, her entire bedchamber would be ruined.  Still, she could not seem to make her feet move an inch.  She could not do anything but stare at her works in horror.  They were the ones of William, the ones that she had been able to capture the light in.  They were her only proof that she could do something worthwhile, that she could paint things other than an apple.

“Pardon me,” a calm voice said.  Still, she stood still.  Hands grabbed her arms, easing her out of the way.  With a sigh, the man walked passed her, mumbling things about mindless women.  Even as he threw water onto her canvases, muttering things beneath his breath that she should be scandalized by, she could not move.  Who would do this to her paintings?  Who would be so malicious as to ruin the only things that kept her sanity intact?

The man, whose face she still had not looked at, finally turned towards her.  Now, with the danger out of his path, he stared at her with an unimpressed expression.  “You could have been killed, standing there.  What were you thinking?” he asked, bending down to pick up a candle cradled in its holder.  “Setting a candle so close to things so easily caught on fire.”  He placed the candle back on the stand where it once was and stared at her as if he were waiting for an answer. 

It was then that Annabelle allowed herself to study the man.  He was not someone she had seen before during her short stay.  His brown eyes held no emotion in them as he stared at her.  She was used to seeing that light, the spark that set everyone apart, but he held nothing but blankness in his eyes.  She took a step forward, this time not for her paintings but for the man who had saved what was left of them. 

He frowned at her, taking a step back.  Reaching up, he brushed a piece of brown hair from his face, showing off his features more.  He was a handsome man, closer to her age than any other she had come across, except for Zachary.  “You are odd,” she mumbled, snapping a hand over her mouth as she realized the words had escaped her lips.  A flush stole across her cheeks, even as her eyes widened in apology. 

To her surprise, the strange man did not lash out.  He simply bowed his head slightly, glancing up at her through thick eyelashes, and then he did the strangest thing, he smiled.  Her breath caught in her throat and a chuckle escaped his mouth.  “If I may say, you are quite odd yourself.”

Her hand dropped from her mouth, and the words she had been thinking escaped.  “May I draw you?”

“Ah,” he said with an understand nod, “that was why you wouldn’t move when I asked you to.  You’re an artist.”  He glanced towards the charred paintings and a semblance of emotion flickered in his eyes.  “I know how harsh it feels to lose something that you have spent time trying to perfect.”  Looking back at her, he shook his head.  “But I must decline your offer.  You may believe I would be an interesting model, but believe me, I can be very boring.”