Page 106 of House of Crimson Hearts
I force myself to take a steady set of breaths and relax. Her finger must have fully clotted now because the tension eases out of my shoulders.
I lean my head against the carriage wall and watch the artist work.
She opens her pad and draws her hands through the air. Her fingers bend and contort and if it isn’t the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is. The paint whorls through the air spinning and twirling like colour-filled ribbon.
It splatters onto the page, but she moves her fingers above the pad of paper faster and faster until the colours blend and merge and take a shape. She lifts the pad up, using her knees to hide the sheet from me. Then she furrows her brow as she stares at the page, shaking her head and moving the pad this way and that. Then her fingers jerk in a flurry of movements.
She pulls more paint from the palette without ever touching it.
“Why the need for brushes?” I ask, confused.
“Sometimes I like to go old-school, and sometimes I like to use a little magic.”
She takes her time and after an hour or so as the carriage pulls through the Peace Territory and towards the Midnight Market, she hands me the pad.
“There,” she says.
It takes my breath away as much as it did the first time. Only this time, it’s fully in colour.
“Mother of Blood, you’re so talented,” I say because there before me is my castle, my home. And in front of the towering turrets is a beautiful woman.
Tall, hourglass figure, long, luscious hair, tanned skin and rich crimson eyes. She smiles back at me, the hint of a fang between her lips.
“You made me look stunning instead of like a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Octavia. You never have been.”
I huff; it’s a short, barked huff full of snark. “Just wait till you see what happens when we walk through the library and then you tell me how much of a monster you think I am. Or at least how much of a monster other people think I am.”
“Well, maybe they just need someone to show them otherwise.”
The carriage pulls up outside the library and I help her step down. “You have the shortest legs of anyone I’ve ever met,” I laugh as she has to jump the last step.
“Piss off, just because you’re super tall,” she says, but she’s smiling.
I lead her towards the enormous library building. It’s not like the castles Mother and I own. This building is square and old. Four round turrets sit on each of the corners. Windows pepper the front and sides. The door is huge, towering over us, made of oak and peppered with ageing studs.
We approach the front of the building as Gabriel and Keir appear. The gargoyle sticks its tongue out for Gabriel and as he deposits a drop of blood it smiles at him. They exchange a few words, and the goyle continues to grin as the door swings open and swallows the pair of them.
He’s not smiling as I approach, though. Rude.
“Hello. I’d like to enter, please,” I say.
He glares at me, but dutifully sticks his tongue out, and I pay the toll of a bead of blood. He shivers as it seeps into his tongue. And then he realises who I am. What my blood represents.
“Satisfied?” But he just looks away as if he can’t bring himself to talk to me.
“You see, Red? I told you, even the gargoyles hate me.”
She tuts and then pays him an extra bead, giving his chin a tickle. “He’s not all bad, are you?” she croons. “What’s your name?”
“Grimstone,” he says.
He ruffles up, smiling, and then she bops him on the nose. “Now, you listen to me, Grimstone. Stop being mean to Octavia. She’s a person just like the rest of us. Do you hear me?”
His eyes widen, he trembles as she raises her finger to scold him again. But he nods and glances back up at me, dipping his head in deference.
I’m about to walk off when I realise that perhaps I should try to meet him halfway. I reach back and offer him an additional drop.
