Page 58 of Spearcrest Prince

“He wanted us to get engaged,” Kay says. The words fall out of her mouth like she couldn’t even help them. “He thought we were in love, and he wanted us to get engaged after we left Spearcrest. He thought we were the perfect couple, that we looked good together. I’m not sure he ever really saw the true me.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I think you’re perfect for him. It makes me feel better to know that I hurt him back then so that he could be happy now. With you.”

“We’re not together,” I say quickly.

“You’re engaged,” she points out.

“It’s an arranged engagement, it’s not… it’s not a real relationship. We barely get along.” I gesture to her with a little smile. “Not sure if you can tell, but I’m not exactly his type.”

She laughs. “You’re not, but I think that’s why he likes you.” She takes my sketchbook and peers at the page. “This is amazing. You’ve really captured him, somehow.” She returns the sketchbook, the sadness creeping back into her face. “You’re very talented. Sev is a lucky guy. I hope that when I get engaged, I end up with someone like you.”

Her sadness is disconcerting and a little heartbreaking. I point at my sketchbook.

“I can sketch you if you like,” I tell her.

Her expression brightens. “Really?”

I nod and turn to a fresh page. Opening my pencil box, I select my 6B for thick, creamy lines. I sketch her messy and lush and full of life. Brilliant eyes, smooth, glowing skin, glossy lips. I draw her hair in a cascade of braids around her shoulders. Her expression is confident and fearless, but I leave the rue in her eyes.

When I’m done, I hand her my sketchbook. Her eyes widen.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “I look—I look beautiful.”

I laugh. “Youarebeautiful.”

She tilts her head, her eyes glued to the sketch. “I look kind of sad.”

“Are you?”

She lets out a breath that’s half-sigh, half-laugh. “I suppose I am, a little bit. I’m always sad during the holidays. It’s so lonely here.”

I speak before I can think. “Well, if you get lonely, you can come sit with me while I draw. I’ll paint your portrait if you like.”

Her eyes light up, and she suddenly crosses the space between us to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re a star, Anaïs. I would love that.”

Afewdayslater,I’m on my way to the library to work on some essays when a figure in black appears as if by magic in my path.

Séverin is wearing an oversized black turtleneck sweater and black slacks under a long black coat, looking like a gothic detective. There’s a cigarette between his lips, and he’s holding an elegant leather duffel bag.

“Trésor!” he calls, approaching me in a few quick strides. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

I shrug. “You should’ve asked.”

He frowns. “You should’ve said.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.” I point at his cigarette. “That’s a disgusting habit.”

“I know.” He rolls his eyes but immediately tosses his cigarette to the floor and stomps on it. “I’m quitting.”

I nod. “You should.”

“Shit, I will, alright?” He licks his lips and gestures at me. “You’re staying here over the holiday? Not going back to France?”

“I’m staying here,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.

My family’s state of affairs is none of his business, and this is not the time or place to be spilling my little mess of complicated feelings about going home.

But Séverin’s eyes soften as if I’ve just told him I’m to be abandoned for the rest of my life. He steps closer.

“I’m spending Christmas with my family. Would you like to come? I’m flying by private jet. If you pack now, you could leave with me.” He lets out a sheepish laugh. “It might be less peaceful than staying here, but it might be fun. Christmas with the Montcroixes.Ça te dis?”

---