I sigh and rephrase my earlier question. “Are Eldas and Rinni…intimate?”
Willow blinks several times over. I can tell he’s instantly uncomfortable. “Luella, that’s not something you ask about the Elf King.”
“Think of me as a woman asking about the man she’s married to, then.”
“I really don’t know anything. I don’t pry into royal affairs. You’d have to ask one of them. It’s not my place.”
I drum my fingers against the table in thought. “You know, that’s an excellent idea, Willow. I think I’ll go to Rinni when we’re done here.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
Willow scratches his scalp nervously. “Fine, but if you’re going, we’re making citrus tarts first.”
“Citrus tarts?”
“They’re Rinni’s favorite.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I’ve been in the castle practically since I was born. I was up here with Poppy, studying how to be the next castle healer. But…I suppose I heard some things about the few others I was in the castle with.” He shrugs.
I barely resist pointing out that if he heard “some things” he likely heard the truth about Rinni and Eldas. But I resist. Willow is right, it’s not his place to say. And some things are best asked at the source.
* * *
At the endof the day Willow takes me and a small box of lemon and orange tarts that we spent the afternoon making down to Rinni’s room. There’s also a small pouch of treats for Hook that Willow insisted on putting together. We’ll see if Hook likes them later. I hope they set my wolf right as rain.
We come to a stop at Rinni’s door, I take a breath, and knock.
“Yes?” Rinni opens the door. She has a smock tied around her waist. Her usual armor and regalia have been traded for loose-fitting, paint-stained clothing. The look suits her, I think. Her eyes dart between Willow and me. “What’re you doing here?”
“She insisted,” Willow says quickly.
“We need to talk.” I barge in without her permission.
“All right…” Rinni exchanges one last glance with Willow before shutting the door. “What do you need of me, Your Majesty?”
“I want to talk about—” Words fail me as I land on the portrait she’s working on. A familiar pair of warm eyes look back at me with a small, enigmatic smile. The detail is incredible. Though the portrait quickly becomes unfinished as the paint bleeds out from the subject’s face—my face. “You’re painting…me?”
“Yes.” Rinni wipes her hands on a rag. “It was commissioned.”
“By who?
“Who do you think?” Rinni clears her throat and coaxes the colloquial tone back to formal. “I meant to say, Your Majesty, that the Elf King himself commissioned this piece.”
Eldas wants a portrait of me? For what purpose? I look between Rinni and the painting. One thing at a time. I hold out the box of tarts.
“Here, a peace offering and an apology.”
“What is it?” Rinni takes the box skeptically. As soon as she opens it she growls, “That Willow.”
“He said you liked citrus tarts,” I say hastily.
“Yes. I love them.” Yet she looks so grumpy as she says it. Rinni pushes some paints aside on her table and sets the box down, shoving a tart in her mouth. “I just hate that he shared with you my one weakness.”
I laugh. “Well, now that I have you in a vulnerable state. Rinni, I really am sorry.”