Shatter (The Daevas #1)

23 • Revealed

"Here it is, my dear."

Matteo D'Onofrio and I stood at the doorway of his gallery, opened, as usual, by two liveried footmen in their dark blue and gold uniform. I looked at him and he tilted his head to the side, giving me a little nod as he brought up a hand with a flourished wave, signaling me to go on and roam around.

The room was so large and grand that I felt so small in it, like a little ant in a cave. I did feel small, but there was something soaring inside me that made me want to stay in this room and never get out of it. The walls were of cream, and large marble posts were each placed on each side of the room, its width so thick and its height so tall -- about a hundred feet above. That was because the ceiling was so high above, forming a cone at the top with paintings of angels up the clouds. I felt like I was in the Renaissance era. There were life-sized portraits hanging on each corners of the wall; from the very first D'Onofrio and his family, to the very last one, which was the man standing a few feet behind me as I walked on.

Most of the D'Onofrios had glossy titian hair, more to the gold than the red in colour, and their eyes were far different from a normal shade. Every one of them had light, cat-like eyes. Even if their eyes did all have the same colour, the hues were the same shade of light.

"So you and your ancestors were long ago Daevas?" I asked lightly, my eyes still moving from an ancestor named Livenio (as said on the gold plate) to the next one, and the next one.

I could sense him nodding. "Yes," he replied in his deep voice. Yet, it held some grace when he was talking, his English hinting strongly of his accent. "My family had been Daevas starting from the Norman began, as I might say."

I turned to look at him over my shoulder, my eyes wide as they always were. Matteo smiled at me and placed his hands behind his back, standing tall and proud behind me.

"Around the thirteenth century, Lucca D'Onofrio painted Livenio's portrait . He captured his ancestor in his mind and began painting him. It was his skill," he explained.

"Wow." I was gaping, but I just couldn't seem to control stopping it. His family were, like, the total royalties of the Daevas!

Matteo gave me a smile, his eyes twinkling. "My dear, we weren't royalty. Our titles were merely grand and extravagant, declared by the king and queen back in the day. The D'Onofrios came second from the very first family -- royalty -- of the Daevas, who binded the people in safety and strength. Then the Van Allens came after."

I forgot he could read minds.

"You mean," I mused, "there's another family who were the very first to be in this world than yours?"

"The very first," he confirmed.

My head turned back to the paintings once again, and I simply skipped generations and began to find Matteo's painting. I finally saw him, his face still perfectly the same. His eyes scintillated as always, and his hair was shiny titian colour. His frame was clad in elegant clothing, with hues of black, blue, and white. His cape was slung on one shoulder with diamonds spilled all over it, with a black hat connected to a yellow feather and diamonds on it was held in one hand, the other wrapped around the golden handle of his sword, his feet clad in dark shiny boots.

He was smiling with pleasantness as he always seemed to wear, and he looked handsome as ever. Something flashed a microsecond in my mind, but then it was gone, and I was left off with nothing but a little jolt in the head. No pain, certainly, but it was still pretty weird. I ignored it for a while, then I skipped the painting moving on to the next, asking with curiosity, "And which family would turn out to be royalty?"

I went on looking at the painting of Matteo sitting on a grand oak chair with his head bent low and eyes cast down on a thick book, a feathered quill in his elegant hand.