Page 7 of Monster's Secret Baby

My throat tightens as I realize the truth that's been growing inside me for months. I want Harmony. Not just in stolen moments behind garden sheds or in secret corners of Lord Arkan's estate. I want her beside me, always.

And wanting her—choosing her—would mean walking away from everything I've built. The exhibitions. The commissions. The circle of patrons. Sior.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, as I stand on my balcony overlooking the city I once desperately wanted to conquer, I feel something like relief.

"I don't care," I say aloud, testing the weight of the words. They feel right. Solid. "I don't care about any of it."

The city lights blur as I focus on what matters. I want to create what moves me, not what sells. I want to love whom I choose, not forge alliances. I want to live, not perform.

I want her. The rest can burn.

4

HARMONY

Islip through the tall grass along the riverbank, my heartbeat drumming like summer thunder in my chest. The evening air carries the scent of sun-warmed earth and river water, mingling with the wildflowers I've woven into my hair.

Foolish, that's what I am. Absolutely foolish for coming. For wearing my faded blue dress—the one with twice-mended seams but a flattering cut that brings out the gold flecks in my eyes. For brushing my curls until they gleamed in the lamplight before tying them back with a scrap of ribbon I've been saving.

I tell myself I'm here only because standing him up would be unforgivably rude. That I'm merely being polite. That this means nothing.

Liar.

I pause at the edge of the trees, my bare toes curling into the soft earth. The setting sun casts everything in honey-gold light, transforming the ordinary into something magical.

And there he is—Adellum—sitting on a flat rock by the water, wings slightly folded behind him. He's set up a small easel, and his brush moves with confident strokes across the canvas, capturing the dying light as it shimmers across the river.

I allow myself a forbidden moment just to watch him. His white-blond hair falls carelessly across his forehead, and he absently pushes it back with paint-smudged fingers.

He's rolled up his sleeves, revealing the strong lines of his forearms, dusky bronze skin catching the last rays of sunlight. His expression is one of complete absorption—brow slightly furrowed, jaw set in concentration, those silver eyes intense as they move between the canvas and the sunset before him.

Something twists in my chest, sharp and sweet and painful all at once. I've seen him in grand chambers wearing fine clothes, seen him laughing with Lord Arkan over expensive wine. But this—Adellum lost in creation, unaware of being watched—feels like glimpsing something sacred and private.

He dips his brush, tilts his head critically at his work, and suddenly smiles—that quick, crooked smile that makes the air catch in my lungs. The one that transformed his face the first time we met, turning him from intimidating to irresistible in an instant.

"Are you going to lurk in the shadows all evening, little bird, or will you join me?" he calls without looking up.

Heat floods my cheeks. "I wasn't lurking," I step from the trees' cover. "I was... appreciating the composition."

Adellum looks up then, his brush pausing mid-stroke. Those silver eyes sweep over me, lingering on my dress, my hair, my bare feet, and something in his gaze shifts, softens.

"The composition improves dramatically with you in it." He sets his brush down, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Though I'd have to start a new canvas entirely to do you justice."

"Flatterer." I approach, trying to ignore how my pulse jumps when he looks at me that way. "You don't need to waste your talents on me when you have this." I gesture to the sunset reflecting on the water, all crimson and gold ripples.

"Waste?" Adellum rises in one fluid motion, his wings adjusting naturally behind him. "Harmony Aven, sunsets happen every day. You, however—" He reaches out, hesitates, then gently tucks a stray curl behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my skin. "You are decidedly more rare."

I roll my eyes to hide how his touch affects me. "There are thousands of human women in New Solas."

"None who look at river weeds and see medicine. None who argue with Lord Arkan about the proper way to plant moon lilies." His mouth quirks. "None who throw bread rolls at famous artists."

"That was an accident! You startled me." I laugh despite myself, remembering just that instance. "And you deserved it, sneaking up on people like that."

"I've never been so delighted to be assaulted with baked goods." Adellum's wings shift slightly, catching the fading light. He gestures to the blanket spread beside his easel. "I brought wine. And those little cakes you pretend not to love."

My chest tightens at the thoughtfulness. It's these small things—remembering what I like, noticing the details—that make him dangerous to my heart.

"I only came because it would be rude not to," I say, even as I move to sit beside him.

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