"Going somewhere?" Andrew asked, dropping his hands from where he'd caught my shoulders. I looked up at him through a haze of tears and his expression changed from amused to alarmed. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing, but if you'll excuse me," I said, ducking around him as I dabbed at my eyes to keep the tears from ruining my makeup. I exited the ballroom, hurrying down the side hallway until I turned the corner towards the little library. Barely able to breathe thanks to the corset I'd squeezed into for the sake of my new dress, I sagged against the wall, pressing my hands to my face as I forced the tears back into my eyes. I couldn't believe Edward. I'd known he was frightfully sneaky, but for him to marry rich and then completely abandon us in a time of need was downright indecent. Suddenly it made so much more sense why Xavier had abandoned his studies at Oxford to pursue them at the much less expensive Royal Conservatory here in Highcastle. I shook my head to clear it, gritting my teeth. When I finally opened my eyes, I let out a shriek. Andrew was standing across the hall from me, similarly leaning on the wall, his arms crossed and his expression worried. "I wasn't about to let you run away before you gave me an answer," he said, reaching into his pocket to produce a handkerchief. I gratefully accepted it, dabbing at my face. "My brothers came to visit," I said, my voice thick from the tears. "Yes, I'd noticed that," Andrew said. I inhaled shakily, fighting back the sob that threatened to escape. "I take it you're not very close with them," Andrew said gently as I stared at the hem of my skirt. I snorted. "Edward is an ass," I said, "But Xavier's my best friend," "Then I take it Edward was the one who upset you," Andrew said. I looked up at him, his brow still knit with concern. "Honestly, it's nothing. Just petty family drama that caught me by surprise," I lied, "I was running away so I wouldn't make a scene, and yet here I am making a scene in front of royalty," "I have something to show you that might cheer you up," he said, pushing off the wall and extending a hand to me. I watched him for a beat until he cocked his eyebrow. "I owe you a surprise for that dance, you know," he urged. I sighed and took his hand, my skin icy compared to his. "I'm hoping you read up on Alistair and Mysthena," he said, leading me back towards the entrance hall, "For we're about to test your theory about books and art," I stopped, digging my heels in when we reached the hall, in no mood to return to the ball. "It's just beyond the dining room," Andrew said, giving my hand a little tug to urge me on. I shot a worried look towards the ballroom, chewing my lip. "Please, I promise you'll enjoy it," Andrew said gently, and I yielded. We both hurried across the entrance hall, ducking into the dining room hallway before anyone could come out of the ballroom and see us. I allowed him to lead me, savouring the warmth of his hand around mine. We turned a few corners, emerging into a windowed hallway, the dark glass reflecting the few candles left burning at this time of night. "Here it is," Andrew said, taking up a candelabra to light the four candles from the one he'd been carrying. "It's far grander in the daylight, especially at dawn. The windows positively flood it," he said, gesturing to a wall of darkened windows behind us before stretching his arm up toward the top left corner of the painting. It was huge, and even stretching, Andrew's arm barely managed to illuminate the corners. "Here you can see the hunt, all of them intently following the hounds, and then the stag disappearing behind one of the trees," he traced his way along the painting, "And here is Alistair, separated from the group. He's looking at Mysthena, his hand outstretched to her. See how he's smiling? And there is Mysthena, halfway transformed from a doe into a human. See how her legs are turned away from him, yet her arms are ever so slightly reaching for him?" Andrew placed a gentle hand on the middle of my back to draw me toward the painting, into the circle of light of his candelabra. He was as enthralled by his narration as I was, my eyes drinking in every detail of the artwork. I'd never seen such a spectacular, massive painting before; it almost put the Royal Museum's collection to shame. As Andrew drew me nearer, I could see the brushstrokes of the leaves and the creek, the expressions on Alistair and Mysthena's faces. I couldn't help but wonder how much more magnificent it would be in the pink light of dawn. "It's so detailed," I said, looking at Mysthena, whose eyes were not on Alistair as I'd expected, but rather tilted up towards the hunt, "But where is she looking?" "You read the legend, didn't you?" he asked, his hand still on my back. "Of course. Alistair's uncle shoots for Mysthena, but Alistair throws himself in the way," I replied, following Mysthena's gaze. Andrew lifted the candles higher and the hunting party was illuminated again. "She's looking at his uncle," Andrew said, looking up at the only hunter with his bow drawn. Instead of his face being turned away like the others, his eyes were on Alistair. Once he was sure I'd seen it, he swept the candles down toward the bottom right of the painting, prompting me, "And what happens next?" "Mysthena is wracked with grief and her own uncle, the god of the dead, swears revenge upon Alistair's uncle," I said, taking in the newest part of the painting cast in the candlelight. There, in the shadows of the tree Mysthena leaned up against was a dark form, defined in deep greys and purples. The shadowing of the tree made it seem as if one of the branches was his hand, reaching up towards Alistair's uncle. "Then how does it end?" Andrew continued, leaning up with the candles to illuminate the top right of the painting. "Mysthena's aunt welcomes Alistair in the underworld, promising Mysthena that she will watch over him until her time comes," I said, as the pale blues of the clouds above seemed to take on the shape of a man and woman in the clouds, she robed in a tunic while he was robed in the same hunting garb as below. "Do you believe me now when I say that art can rival one's own imagination?" Andrew asked finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us as I ran my eyes over the painting again, taking in the colours and shapes that came together to tell a story in such an intricate way. "Of course, and now I feel like quite the uneducated fool," I said, clasping my hands in front of me if only to restrain myself from touching the painting. Andrew chuckled, extinguishing the candelabra and taking up a single candle to light our way. "Only the wise know how much they have yet to learn," he said, his hand dropping from my back as we turned back the way we came. The painting plunged into darkness as we walked away, my head swimming with questions about what other great works of art were hidden behind the drapes of the grand gallery. "Are there more?" I asked him finally, as we rounded the corner back towards the entrance hall. Andrew glanced down at me, the corners of his lips twitching as he seemed to fight a smile. "Of course, but I highly recommend a daytime viewing. While the candlelight is certainly romantic, it doesn't quite lend itself to the full effect of daylight," he said, the grin forming in earnest now. I snorted as I leaned over to elbow him in the ribs. He laughed, ducking away from me. "Romantic indeed," I huffed, "I'll settle for finding them myself if you insist upon candlelight and intrigue," Andrew grinned, snuffing the candle as the entrance hall came into view. "Are you willing to face the ballroom again, or should I escort you to the little library?" he asked, pausing beside me. I was staring at the ballroom doors, listening to the music playing within. I felt horrible for not saying goodbye to Xavier, but I had no interest in facing Edward again. Knowing my eldest brother, if he spotted me he wouldn't shy away from giving me a good verbal lashing before he left. "The library I think," I said, gathering my skirts and dashing across the entrance hall. Andrew chuckled, catching up to me in a few quick strides. I paused outside the library, ready to bid him goodnight before we were spotted together. "Tomorrow morning, meet me outside the dining hall after breakfast," he said, holding the library door for me. It was my turn to laugh. "And how exactly would I explain that to my cousin?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "That one was nice, but the others are spectacular," Andrew said, that lopsided grin on his face, "If you truly want to see them, I'm certain you'll come up with some sort of arrangement. Goodnight, Libby," "Goodnight, you troublesome prince," I said, rolling my eyes before fixing him with a smile, "And thank you for cheering me up," "Of course," he smiled, his eyes softening as he looked down at me before closing the library door behind him. Left alone with nothing but candlelight and books, I suddenly felt incredibly alone. Thankfully, however, Andrew's distraction had worked and it wasn't my family's troubles that kept popping into my mind. No matter how much I read, my brain couldn't stop returning to the colours and lines of the painting before my eyes, or the warm feeling of his hand on my back. I blew out my cheeks, shaking my head as if to clear it as I settled in on the settee. Forcing my thoughts to focus on the pages, I spread the book of legends across my skirts and settled in while the music from the ball echoed in the background.