Page 8 of Monster's Secret Baby

Adellum's eyes crinkle at the corners, seeing through me completely. "Of course. Your impeccable manners are legendary."

I shake my head and take a seat next to him. I lean back on my elbows, watching the stars peek out one by one against the deepening indigo canvas above us. The blanket beneath us is one of Adellum's—finely woven, softer than anything I've owned, yet he tosses it onto the ground without a second thought.

"Careful with that cheese," I say, reaching over to break off a piece of the creamy white wedge he's brought. "It costs more than I make in three days."

"All the more reason to enjoy it." Adellum offers me a slice of crusty bread. "I think about you tending Lord Arkan's gardens all day. The least I can provide is decent food."

I accept the bread, our fingers brushing. "I like my work. The gardens are the only place I feel..." I search for the right word.

"Free?" he suggests.

"Mine," I correct him. "Something I've made, nurtured." I take a bite, savoring the contrast between the bread's chewiness and the cheese's silky richness. "Though Lord Arkan takes all the credit when visitors marvel at his moon lilies."

Adellum chuckles, pouring more wine into our single shared cup. "Arkan wouldn't know a moon lily from a weed if you didn't tell him the difference."

"Don't let him hear you say that." I accept the cup, sipping the tart liquid. It's bright and cool on my tongue, nothing like the watered-down ale served in the staff quarters.

Between bites, Adellum returns to his work, his hands swift and sure as he adds touches to his canvas. The light is nearly gone now, but he works confidently in the dim glow of the small magical lantern he's brought. He rarely uses magic, so unlike most xaphan. I watch his face—the intense concentration, the flicker of satisfaction when a stroke pleases him.

"Stop squinting at me," I protest when I realize I'm the subject of his current focus. "The real view is over there." I gesture toward the river, where silver moonlight now dances across the rippling waters.

"I've painted that river a hundred times," Adellum murmurs, his eyes flicking between me and the canvas. "But you—the way you sit with your knees pulled up, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're thinking..." His brush pauses. "You're a part of this place. Wild and soft and stubborn. I can never capture you properly."

My cheeks warm, and I'm grateful for the growing darkness. "You're just looking for a challenge since landscapes have become too easy for the great Adellum Vey."

He sets down his brush, eyes bright in the lantern light. "You've always been my muse, little bird. Since the first time I wandered into your gardens, when you lectured me about trampling your seedlings." His voice drops, rough with honesty. "You make me see things differently."

Something inside me trembles at his words. I pluck a blade of grass, twisting it between my fingers to have something to look at besides his face. "I'm just a gardener."

"No." Adellum shifts closer, his wing brushing my shoulder, light as a whisper. "You're the reason I can paint at all. Before you..." He hesitates, and I look up to find his gaze intent on me. "Before you, I was just making pretty pictures for Sior to sell. Now I remember why I started."

I flush under the weight of it, the rawness of being seen so completely. My mother's warnings echo: Never trust a xaphan—their beauty is designed to lure you in. They can afford to play with human hearts; we cannot afford to lose them.

I know I should be careful. I know xaphan are dangerous in ways mortals can't afford to forget. But when he looks at me like that, I don't feel like prey. I feel like a miracle.

"You give me too much credit," I whisper.

Adellum reaches out, calloused fingertips tracing my jawline with feather-light precision. "You don't give yourself enough."

5

HARMONY

My cheeks warm under Adellum's intense gaze, my body reacting to his touch even after he drops his hands. The way he looks at me sometimes makes me feel like I'm the only person in his world—like I'm something worth memorizing, worth preserving on canvas. It's terrifying.

"You should finish your painting," I murmur, though my body betrays me, leaning infinitesimally toward him.

"It can wait." Adellum sets his brush down decisively. "The light's gone anyway." As if he doesn't have magic.

We fall into comfortable silence, the kind that once surprised me with him. For someone whose fame stems from his artistic voice, Adellum seems most at peace in quiet. He reclines on the blanket, one arm folded beneath his head, wings neatly tucked against his back—a habit I've noticed he maintains around humans who might be intimidated by their full span.

I never have been. I'm always mesmerized by them. I'm honestly mesmerized by all things Adellum, and that's the problem. I never should have let a xaphan get to me in a way he has.

I settle beside him, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body but not quite touching. Above us, the night unfurls like black velvet scattered with diamonds, each star a pinprick of perfect light. The moon hangs low and heavy, casting silver across the landscape.

"Name a constellation," Adellum challenges softly.

"You know I'm terrible at this game." I laugh, scanning the glittering expanse. "That one looks like... a spoon?"

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