Dawn of Destiny (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 1)

Chapter Ten

Ashton stayed locked away in his studio for most of the day, absorbed in his latest piece. Misty came along around noon to keep him company and hadn't left since. The grown feline now lounged on the windowsill, fast asleep in yet another nap.

Unfortunately for her, the knocks that came at the door interrupted her.

Ashton cocked his head, looking over his painting of his mother's shop. He'd always loved the way it stood in its corner space near the entrance of the town. It had to be one of the most beautiful buildings in town. A true sight to see thanks to its white sign and pink curly painted words (courtesy of his six-year-old self) that told everyone the place belonged to Malina Ward, its tiny balcony littered with potted plants, and dark green shutters.

Perhaps he was slightly biased, though.

"Come in," he called over his shoulder.

His mother entered, her usual soft smile forming on her youthful face. Her hands were behind her back, too. 

He shifted uncomfortably on his stool and turned his focus on the canvas again. Earlier, when he had stepped out to join them downstairs for lunch, his mother opted against bringing up the situation. He knew his sisters told her. It'd been so dreadfully awkward that he almost wished she would say something about it to break the tension.

"Why do you want your father's old formal clothes?" she asked, no sign of any negative emotions. Somehow, that made him feel worse about everything. "We could always get your own set."

"I thought... well, I suppose I thought it would be easier this way," he murmured. He heard her footsteps approaching, and he stiffened, bracing himself.

"I am glad, Ashton, because I think you will look ravishing in his clothes. Just as he did."

Finally, Ashton looked at her, and she pulled forward the folded set from behind her. A dark blue velvet doublet with silver buttons, black undershirt, and black slacks.

All these years, he'd either worn causal clothing or the standard trainee uniform. He almost feared ruining these clothes.

He glanced down at his hands and chuckled. "I'd take them from you, but..." His fingers were coated in pinks and greens.

His mother grinned and nodded. "I hope they fit well. I made just a few adjustments, since you are nearly his height and weight now."

"Thank you, Mother."

"But before you take them back with you, be honest with me: why do you want these?" she raised an eyebrow, yet her features showed no trace of malice. "It has nothing to do with the royal ball tonight, does it?"

Ashton shook his head. "Trainees are not invited. I, I merely wanted these in case I ever needed them."

Curiously, his mother beamed at this. "Has my little boy found someone special? Someone to impress?"

Ashton sighed, ducking his head and mentally scolding himself when he felt his cheeks burn. "It is nothing like that either, Mother."

"Oh, not yet, anyway." She walked to the nearest table that was clear of any paints and set the clothes down. She remained perfectly still for a moment, and he stared at her, wondering if she wanted to say more. He couldn't shake his anxiety. What if she asked him to stay?

If she did, he wouldn't say no.

"I love you, Ashton," she said instead. "Come join us downstairs for supper." She turned away, and he frowned.

"Mother, actually, I have to get going," he shamefully admitted. "I've stayed longer than I was supposed to. My, um, my friends are waiting."

"Ah, yes... yes, of course."