“What do you think?”
She turned to see a thin man, sporting round spectacles and a nervous smile. Dressed in a faded but clean collared shirt and dark pants, he looked out of place among the sea of costly clothes and jewels worn by the other guests.
She liked him immediately.
“It’s beautiful. I was never good at art, but this is spectacular. And unlike some of the other art here, I can...” She paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know, it’s like I can feel the painting. Feel the wind, the autumn chill.”
The man flushed as his smile grew. “That’s so good to hear.”
She returned his smile. “I’m assuming you’re the artist?”
“Hugo Verne, ma’am. Yes, it’s my first work to be hung anywhere other than my living room or a local fair.”
“You certainly earned it.” She glanced back at the painting. “Is the little girl your daughter?”
His flush deepened with pleasure. “Oui, my daughter, Lorraine. She spends a lot more time with me at home since the school closed.”
“I’m so sorry. Not having a school must be hard.”
Sadness crossed Hugo’s face.
“Most of the schools outside Eira closed within the last few years. We were told it was too expensive to operate.”
The uncomfortable sensation that had settled in Briony’s stomach when she’d walked into the museum and seen the opulent spending on everything from the mahogany floors to the white marble columns burst into full-blown anger. What had Daxon been thinking with constructing something this grand when the country couldn’t even offer schooling?
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, ma’am. It could be worse.”
“Still, something’s being done.”
Hugo’s expression brightened a little. “I’m a little more hopeful after I heard about the marriage between King Daxon’s daughter and a prince. I wasn’t able to come into the city last week, but I’ve heard wonderful things about her.”
Briony’s stomach twisted. Hearing firsthand from someone outside the palace that marrying Cass actually had the power to enact change was both gratifying and terrifying. Gratifying in that, after so many of years of drifting through life without purpose, she had the power to do something. Terrifying because if she failed, she would always remember the hopeful light in Hugo’s eyes and the painting of a little girl with her arm wrapped around her dog.
She sipped on her drink before she answered.
“I hope the marriage makes things better for everyone.”
Hugo nodded eagerly. “I’m sure there will be some positive changes.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “I just hope she isn’t like King Daxon. The man likes to spend money.”
Briony chuckled. “I’ve heard she’s nothing like him.”
Awareness pricked the back of her neck. Without turning, she knew Cass had entered the room.
“Ah, Princess Briony.” Cass’s deep voice echoed in the cavernous room. “Admiring the local talent?”
Hugo’s mouth dropped open before he clapped it shut and bowed so quickly at the waist Briony feared he would snap in half.
“Prince Cassius, may I introduce Hugo Verne, the artist behind this beautiful watercolor,” Briony said as she turned to greet her fiancé.
Dear Lord, he’s handsome.Dressed in a tuxedo cut perfectly for his muscular frame, midnight-black hair combed back to show the carved architecture of his face, just laying eyes on him after less than thirty minutes apart made her heart beat faster.
Cass stopped next to her and observed the poor painter with an arched brow.
“Your Highness,” he gasped, “I beg your forgiveness, I meant no disrespect, I just—”
“Hugo,” Briony broke in as she grasped his hand and gently urged him to straighten, “you’re fine. I’m still getting used to all this royal business anyway.”