Page 17 of Love Me Forever

“With him in it! I think you’d know that I don’t want anything with or from that piece of shit.”

“I’d certainly never expect you to look at that bastard’s face every day. I don’t think they sent this to give you a nasty surprise. The servants just packed up whatever had been left in the attic, and they sent it over so you can do whatever you want with it. They probably didn’t feel right about throwing out things that belong to you.”

Sébastien pulled his arm away to head for the crate. “I’m burning every single one with him.”

Remus followed him. “What if you could have him erased from the family portraits?” That made Sébastien pause. “A good artist could fix them so it’d be like he wasn’t there, and then, if you wanted, you could hang them up. I know you’re mad now, and you want to destroy those things, but you might be glad later to have portraits with everyone else. If seeing the rest is too difficult, you could put them away.”

Sébastien stared at the side of the crate as he seemed to consider Remus’s words.

“Wherever we go later, I want to put up a few of my parents, and you might want to see yours too instead of just mine.”

“Some won’t look that great with an empty spot,” said Sébastien.

“But you’ll have the rest of your family to look at. Even if you decide you don’t want them hanging, you could at least look at them later. Besides, an artist might be able to restretch the canvas on them and make it look a bit different if Corentin was on the end.”

“All right-maybe.”

“Do you want me to go through them and find any without him?” Remus asked as Whisper went to Sébastien to get his neck patted.

“No. I can do it myself. It’s okay, boy.” Whisper nosed at Sébastien's shoulder.

He was still snappy, but he didn’t seem to mind Remus’s presence when he reached into the crate. It was packed pretty tightly with the cloth-wrapped paintings, and rags had been stuffed in the corners to keep them from shifting. If paintings were stored anywhere, they were typically wrapped to prevent fading or scratches if they were moved.

When they’d moved from Arquous toBelle Âme, servants must have simply hung art roughly wherever it had gone before. Maxime had shown Remus several up in one of the Palace attic rooms, and he’d said they’d been inSébastien’s rooms before he’d had them put away. Remus had thought the lack of anything on his room walls was a little odd. It made sense later.

“They didn’t take everything when you moved?” Remus asked as Sébastien pulled out rags to drop in a pile.

“No. Honestly, I think some of it was simply forgotten. We changed around a few portraits over the years and put older ones in the attic room. I guess no one remembered them when we left Arquous.”

Nothing sentimental of Sébastien’s had been rescued from the rubble of the Palace. He pulled out a large portrait of the family and unwrapped it. Sébastien barely looked two, and hewas sitting on his Mother’s lap. The artist had done a good job since toddlers don’t like to sit still. Corentin was to one side.

“I can’t really remember now, but there might be one…the artist was a traveling one, and Father paid him…” Sébastien trailed off and flipped through the covered canvases as he felt the edges.

He suddenly pulled one out and revealed it. The edges of the frame were raised and scalloped. The dull bronze was rather ugly to Remus. Sébastien leaned that work against the crate and stepped back.

“I’d hang this one up. Maybe not right now…”

Corentin wasn’t in it.

“How old were you?” asked Remus. Sébastien had always looked younger than he was in the few he’d seen before.

“Eight. I know I was a bit small. Corentin went on a trip to see a friend somewhere. Elira knew what he did on that holiday. Anyway, the traveler offered to paint us, and Father agreed. I only vaguely remember sitting for this one over a few days, and Mother kept telling me not to fidget. My collar was itchy.”

Remus had seen better quality, but it was good enough. Everyone was lined up according to status on a long couch and dressed as expected for court. Sébastien was in bright green. Remus could imagine the artist saying they were done for the day and him sliding off the couch to run and play after being forced to sit still for so long.

“You were a cute kid.” Remus draped an arm around him to squeeze his shoulders.

“I’d like to see what you looked like as a child.”

“Like I ate a courtier’s kid.” Sébastien’s lip twitched at that comment. “Just kidding. I wasn’t that big. The real growth spurts didn’t come until I was around eleven and twelve. Father thought Quintus and I were about to eat us out of house and home.”

Sébastien leaned the painting near the door, and Milly dared to peek out. “Your Majesty-”

“Sébastien. You don’t have to call us that.”

“It takes getting used to. Sébastien, I’m not sure if you want me to make breakfast. The water for your tea is getting cold. The oats are cooking, but they need a little more time. If you're busy…”

“I’ll be fine with oats when I come in. I don’t feel like eggs or anything else. Make Remus whatever he wants.”

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