Delicate Oath

Thirteen | Creative Minds

Odette Sinclair

"Lilian?" I ask, curiously walking into a room, noticing a canvas towards the big window in the middle of the room.  Everything is covered by a white silk sheet. Why?

"Uncover it your highness" she smiles. I do and when I do I'm to stunned to speak.

"Your highness required there to be a painting area for you. Said to keep you busy but I think it's a wedding gift though." She smiled and started taking the silk off the furniture.

How could a man like him do something like this? Did my father tell him about it? Did he force him to do something like this so that this marriage won't be half as bad?

I caressed my fingers against the blank canvas, along the table there are thousands of colors containing all different shades of hues. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"I think Mr. Cyrus has taken a liking you. Maybe some sort of bond in particular?" She gives me that look.

"Y-you know?"

"Odette, of course I know. It's not that hard to tell. The way he looks at you sometimes at supper. Same goes with you. Why are you keeping it a secret?" She nods and goes back to fixing the pillows along the couch and chairs on the left side of the room.

"He wants to keep it a secret and I don't want to upset him so please don't say anything. I think my existence in his life already pisses him off." I look around at the room.

"Your secret is safe with me Odette but I don't 100% think he gets upset with you in his life. I think he's at an internal battle with himself and his past. I would give it time." She smiles and leaves the room.

Him? Have an internal battle with himself? I never thought that the scariest man alive could be scary for reasons of the unknown. What was going on to cause it? I shrug it off and grab my palette. I plop white, green, blue, grey and some red to start.

Normally when I paint my mind goes blank but all I think about is him. I was getting married in three days. Three days, if you think about it is not nearly enough time to mentally prepare someone for their life to change drastically. Not enough time to prepare yourself to spend the rest of your life in a loveless marriage with a husband you hates your existence.

I stayed in the painting room, ignoring life as best as I could; ignoring him. As much as I hate to say it, his words hurt.

I dabbed the white paint on my brush along the vacant canvas. It helped the rest of the paint blend together.

Grabbing a mix of a morally grey- blue, I smudge it upon the top making the brush stokes give it some texture.

"What are you painting?" A deep husky voice says.
I didn't even hear his steps this time.

Looking up towards the direction of the voice, I find a calm Augusto at the doorway. Is this a relaxed Augusto Cyrus in front of me?

"I don't know," I don't take my eyes off him for some reason, "any suggestions?"

He lets out a chuckle walking closer to me.

"I'm not creative. You're asking the wrong person."

"Who said?" I mutter, still holding the brush in my hands.