Painted Blind (8 page)

“Okay, I…”

He interrupted, “You should stay with Savannah tonight.”

Erik caught my arm and shook his head.

“Savannah would probably march me into the street so she could be on camera,” I replied. “No one will find me here in the mountains. There are extra bedrooms at Erik’s house.”

Dad let out his breath slowly. In my mind I saw the worried lines across his forehead deepen.

“Dad,” I said softly. “You can trust me.”

“Are you sure his parents won’t mind?”

Erik snorted.

“His parents won’t mind at all.”

After telling me he would call the school and pick up my homework, my dad lingered over good-bye and finally let me go. I turned to Erik. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

“Sheer torture, but I think I’ll survive.

Chapter 7

“There’s so much I want to know about you.”

“Besides what I look like?” He stretched himself over the couch. His legs reached to the end while his arms spanned the breadth of it. Of all the things I liked about Erik, this was the oddest: he made me feel small. For a girl who is five foot ten, that was no small feat. Erik was taller with thick arms. His hands could span my waist, although he said his housekeeper would make it her mission to put some meat on me.

“Have you always lived here alone? Why didn’t your mother raise you? And what’s that crazy dust you go spreading all over?”

He nudged me lightly. “Take a breath. We have all night.”

“You’re being evasive.” I folded my arms. “Why bring me here if you don’t want me to know anything about you?”

“I want you to know everything about me.” He leaned closer and whispered, “I just don’t want you to hyperventilate.”

“Then stop touching me.”

With a chuckle he leaned back. Since I hung up the phone with my dad, the atmosphere between Erik and I changed. We were no longer on a deadline stealing quiet moments to get to know each other. The whole night stretched before us. No parents, no curfew. It was liberating and showed mostly in Erik’s tone. His voice was light and casual, obviously more at ease.

“We’ll start with the dust,” he suggested. “My mother discovered it.” His voice floated softly through the darkness. I leaned closer to hear, and he drew me under his arm. His touch still jolted me and, caught in the crossroads between elation and terror, I shivered, but Erik didn’t let go. “You’re safe with me,” he whispered.

My mind believed him, but my body was slow to forfeit its deep-seated defenses. I let my head rest on his shoulder, and Erik breathed into my hair. “The dust,” I prodded.

He lifted his head. “Near the caves on the other side of the mountain, my mother collected a small flower, which she intended to transplant at home. When she unwrapped the plant and shook out her skirt, her maid swooned at the sight of the gardener. The maid was all of seventeen, and he was nearly three times her senior. My mother believed the flower had done it, so she potted it, delighted by the prospect of inducing love with this simple potion.”

“To make mischief, like you?”

“No, she wanted it for herself. Her marriage was arranged by my grandfather, and while her husband is devoted and kind, he is not at all handsome. She was fond of him but completely indifferent to him physically. She was willing to resort to any sort of witchcraft if she could make that missing attraction bloom in herself. But the flower did not make her love him. She tasted the pedals, inhaled the fragrance, rubbed the plant on her skin to no avail.

“She decided to get rid of it. In the garden, she pulled the plant from its pot and shook the soil free from the roots. The gardener sneezed, fell to his knees and declared that he would be her slave if she would love him. Stunned, my mother called for a stable hand and another maid. They hauled the poor man away, and when they returned, my mother got the wild notion to try the experiment again. She stood them facing each other and threw a handful of dust between their faces. They both sneezed, looked up, and their faces burned with newfound passion. That evening when her husband returned, my mother threw a handful in her own face, sneezed and looked on the man she had married.”

“And she loved him,” I finished for him.

“No. Somehow she was immune to the dust. She tried everything—breathing it, eating it, bathing in it. Nothing worked, yet all around her, the household was wild with love. Believing she was immune to passion, she fled her husband’s kingdom and came here, where she’d discovered the flower. There was a little cabin here then, not a palace, and the land belonged to her father. One day she wandered to the far reaches of the estate, sat upon the stone wall and wept. She did not hear a man approach her, nor had she ever seen him, though she would have known his name if he had introduced himself. He simply said, ‘Beautiful lady, why do you weep?’”

Erik’s voice grew harder as he continued. “My mother looked up and her life changed. Before her was this beautiful man, and she felt the kind of attraction for him that she should’ve had for her husband. A handful of the dust was in her apron pocket. Without thinking she tossed it into his face. So began a secret affair that ended when I made my miserable appearance into this world.”

“You are the child of her infidelity?” I’d made him retell this story to appease my curiosity, and now I was sorry for adding to his pain.

“They were both married. My mother’s husband and my father were on the brink of war when my grandfather intervened. He purchased peace with the arrangement you see before you. Half of my estate belonged to my grandfather, the other half to my father. My grandfather purchased the land at an exorbitant price, built this palace overlooking the valley and made an agreement with my mother’s husband. She would live here until I was born, stay an additional summer and return to him, fully repentant, in the fall. I would remain here and never burden him for support. My mother would live with me each summer.”

“She agreed to leave you? You were just a baby.”

“It was either agree or have two kingdoms ravaged by war. Eudora was born only a few months before me. Her mother nursed us both and became as much a mother to me as my own—more actually. But if you ever met my mother, you’d understand that what belongs to her is hers, and she won’t let anyone forget it.”

“What about your father?”

“He denied that I was his, but when I was born, it was obvious. My father has very distinct eyes, and I inherited them. Still, he wanted nothing to do with me. He only sees me when matters of the kingdom require it.”

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

He shrugged. “I’ve been a menace from the very start.” Then he added, “By choice, of course.”

“And the dust?”

“It’s only found on my estate. My grandfather had the caves blocked off, but I tore down the walls and started mining it as soon as I was of age to manage the estate myself.”

“And it’s made you rich?”

“No, the kingdom generates its own income, and I live on a portion of it. I’ve never sold the dust. I just use it to entertain myself.”

I giggled into his shoulder. “And take revenge on unsuspecting student teachers.”

“Very deserving student teachers. It produces desire, but it doesn’t take away a person’s power of choice. I once dusted a man whose love was of a different religion. Though they were passionately attracted to one another, they separated and each married someone of their own faith. Their relationships with God meant more to them than their passions, and they chose accordingly.”

“The effects of the dust wear off.”

“In my kind, they always wear off. In your kind, it depends on the dose. Dust someone well enough, and it will last a lifetime.”

“Do you ever do that?”

“No, mortals are too fragile. I give them a passion that lasts a year or two, and if they fall in love for real, they never notice when the dust wears off.”

This brought us to the most pressing question of all. “Did you dust me?”

“Of course not. It wouldn’t work unless you saw me.” He pulled me closer. “Your passion for me is all genuine.”

“Who said I had a passion for you?” I replied.

He put his fingers under my chin and found my pulse. “Feverish, irregular breathing, racing pulse? Either you love me, or you need a doctor.”

I elbowed him in the side. “I’m just nervous—strange world and all.”

When the night’s blackness gave way to blue, I was dozing against Erik’s shoulder. He shook me awake. “I’ll take you to your room. It will be light soon.”

I was too tired to argue.

He guided me down the hallway and walked me to the bed, where I pulled down the covers and fell in, clothes and all. Erik drew a finger across my forehead. “Sleep well.”

The perfume of summer roses, a scent long dead in my world, wafted through my dreams. When I opened my eyes, I found three pink buds resting on the pillow with a sprig of lavender mingled among them. The window was open to a square of cloudless sky. The sun was high overhead. I guessed it was almost noon.

On the nightstand was a folded letter with my name printed in exquisite script on the front. The message inside was written in the same beautiful hand.

My Lovely Soul,

       There are fresh clothes in the armoire and sandals in the drawer below. In the boxes on the dresser I’ve left gifts. A guest, such as you, should be properly adorned when roaming my kingdom. The smaller box contains a pendant. It is a token of my affection and will guarantee that no other man in the kingdom will bother you. It must be worn on your forehead not your neck. (I’ll explain that later.) My friend Aeas will gladly show you around the kingdom today.

       The bathing area is on the lowest level. Take the narrow stairs next to my bedroom door. If I’ve neglected anything, ask Aeas.

       Stop hiding and enjoy yourself. I’ll return at dark.

The signature was the elaborate E on the paintings downstairs.

I opened the armoire, expecting regular clothes, but found white gowns. The fabric was thicker than cotton jersey but softer than silk. They were all floor length, flowing and sleeveless. I chose one with a halter-style bodice that tied behind the neck. In the dresser I found silk underclothing. After digging through eight pairs of sandals, I finally found a pair that would fit my size ten feet.

The gifts Erik left were frighteningly expensive. In addition to the pendant, there was a gold belt adorned with amethyst stones, a gold arm cuff, and a bracelet, which was roughly twelve carats of amethysts strung together with twisted gold chain.

After bathing and dressing in the silky gown, I put my hand through the arm cuff and slid it above my elbow, where it spiraled around my bicep and shimmered in the light. Next I fitted the belt around my waist. On the smallest setting, it threatened to slide onto my hips. The bracelet clasp gave me the most trouble, but I finally got it onto my wrist.

Properly dressed, I ventured upstairs. My stomach rumbled, and if Erik’s housekeeper wanted to make it her mission to fatten me, this morning I was willing.

The scent of baking bread coaxed me into the kitchen. I turned the corner expecting to find a middle-aged woman elbow deep in dough. Instead, a young woman looked up from dicing vegetables and let out a squeal. I turned and fled, while she ran to the back door and shouted for help.

I was halfway up the stairs when a boy called my name.

“Please, wait. She didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I wasn’t scared. I was embarrassed, a trespasser in their world.

The boy’s face was familiar. He was the one with blue eyes who caught me looking at him in the orchard. He offered me his hand and said, “I’m Aeas.”

I shook his hand awkwardly. “Thanks for the oranges.”

“You’re welcome.” As he led me into the kitchen, he asked, “What’s in your hand?”

The pendant drew surprised smiles from him and the cook.

“Now we know why he was plucking roses from the garden before dawn.” Aeas’s eyes brightened. “Are you going to wear it?”

“If you think it’s all right,” I answered.

“All right?” Aeas laughed. “It’s a miracle.”

The girl stepped forward and took the token from my hand. She smiled with glee as she fastened the chain around my head. The pendant hung on my forehead. A second chain went over my head from ear to ear to keep the first from slipping.

“This is Eudora,” Aeas said. “She’s learning your language, but she doesn’t speak it well.”

“Erik’s surrogate sister?”

“Yes, but if you ask her, she’ll say she’s just the cook and housekeeper.”

She was more beautiful than any of the models I worked with this past summer. Her dark hair hung in curls down her back, and on her neck hung a similar pendant—the same gold crest, but a different cluster of stones.

“Her pendant is on her neck,” I observed.

“She’s married.” Aeas pulled a stool to the island, where Eudora had been working before I interrupted her. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

Eudora made scrambled eggs and offered me thick slices of bread, while Aeas fed orange halves into a press until he’d filled a pitcher with juice. “We have to take her to the village,” he said to Eudora. “No one will believe us otherwise.”

When she squinted in confusion, he translated.

He turned to me and continued, “He did say to show you around today. He wasn’t happy that I let you hide in the house all day yesterday.”

“I don’t know,” I protested. “I don’t like crowds.”

Aeas brushed away my concern with his hand. “The villagers will love you. Most have never seen a mortal. Although, you don’t really look like one.”

“The dress?” Maybe I wasn’t wearing it right.

“No, your face.”

“Oh.” My voice fell flat.