The Contest 03After acquainting myself with most of the manor as well as with Catherine (she deemed us “fast friends”), the night of the ball had come. The Count was still nowhere to be seen, and my impatience had only grown instead of subsided. My father was extremely excited after he helped a servant bring our chosen work down to the gallery. There, the Count would inspect each artist’s work and give his judgment on eligibility. My father told me there must have been a total of fifty artists in the showcase, out of whom the Count would narrow down to only ten. I was nervous, thinking of what would happen if neither of us proved eligible. &The Contest 03
The Contest 02I woke to a dim room, candle unlit on the table in front of me. The drapes were closed, and the sun didn’t shine through the crack between them. Another overcast spring day, and judging by the soft whisper I detected over my father’s thunderous snoring, a rainy one as well. Pushing up off the bed, I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around the room, seeing it in light now—however little there was. The decorations were simple but by no means plain; touches of gold leaf shone against the oak furnishings. Cheap, I assumed, but more expensive than anything I’d ever own in my lifetime—that is, unless I won thThe Contest 02
The Contest 01It was a cloudy spring day when I heard of the Count’s contest. My father came home early, something unusual—I wondered what had happened. Immediately worried, I rushed into the garden to ask him what was the matter. Instead of a frown, there was a hopeful smile on his face. My stomach dropped; had he finally found someone to replace my mother? Before I could ask him anything, however, he unfolded a scrap of parchment and thrust it into my dusty hands. I ran my fingers over the delicately inked letters, reading slowly but carefully.The Contest 01
Attention to all artists in Liennes County: The Comte de Liennes is holding
SometimesSometimes I wonder why I love you.Sometimes
Is that terrible? You can be such a pain, and I’ve never met anyone with the emotional capacity of a brick before I met you.
Your beautiful eyes are always staring elsewhere, admiring others. Sometimes I wish you’d turn them on me, even just once. But for now, I’m content to look at them from a distance. Even if just to see the secret happiness in them when you win a match in a game, or when Maru’s new photos are published in a magazine. I noticed. And however bittersweet, it makes me smile, even if you don’t notice.
Sometimes I wonder if you lo
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