Song of the Forever Rains by E.J. Mellow

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Larkyra stared at the closed double doors, more than prepared to remain studying the patterns curling across the dark wood for another sand fall. But she knew that was not the reason they were there—to stare at doors. “We don’t have to do this today,” she said to Darius, who stood beside her.

He had been holding the key to Hayzar’s rooms so tightly that part of his hand had turned a scary shade of alabaster.

Darius blinked, as though her words had broken him from some trance, and he took a calming breath in. “Yes,” he said, “we do. She’s been kept in here too long.”

Larkyra’s chest twisted at the pain in his voice. The incidents of the ball had only happened last night, but Darius had come to her just as the sun had risen, asking for her help.

She hadn’t pressed for what, merely crawled from her bed and followed him here.

“Then let’s set her free.” She placed a reassuring hand on Darius’s back.

He gave a determined nod, inserting the key and throwing open his stepfather’s chambers.

A sour, tangy scent wafted out, making Larkyra scrunch up her nose. Phorria, she thought. But she pushed into the shadow-filled rooms, showing Darius nothing in here would hurt them. Not anymore.

“Let’s get some fresh air in here,” she said, parting drapes to let the gray morning in, followed by a cool breeze as she unclasped windows. That will clear out the stench, she thought. Turning, Larkyra found Darius still standing at the threshold. “Darius?”

Green eyes met hers. “It’s all rather normal, isn’t it?”

Larkyra looked about the study. “Yes,” she agreed. “He may have been a monster, but it appears he was just as boring as any man. I mean, look at this wallpaper. Did he even try when picking it out?”

A soft chuckle came from Darius, his shoulders relaxing subtly.

Good,thought Larkyra, smiling. “Do you want to help me open the rest of the windows?”

Darius took his first step in, then hesitated before making the rest of his way to her.

“Thank you,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. He was in his robe and slippers, as was she, and the intimacy of it had her stomach growing warm as she thought for a flash of the other night they had shared, wearing much less. Despite where they were and why, Larkyra very much wished to continue kissing him.

But Darius’s mind was obviously in other places this morning, for he turned from her before working diligently to leave no window unopened. Fresh air and light now bathed every room.

While it certainly brightened up the space, it also highlighted exactly what Darius had referred to when he’d said his mother had been kept in here too long.

While most couples high in station kept to their own private wings, it appeared the late duchess had shared Hayzar’s up until her death. Larkyra’s own parents had done the same, but while pieces of Johanna were everywhere in their Jabari home, here, particularly in the bedroom, were all the claimed artifacts of Josephine that Hayzar had hoarded.

“I had wondered what had happened to her gowns,” said Darius as he fingered through the fine dresses. The armoire had been left open, and she wondered how often Hayzar had touched the clothes just as Darius was now—reverently. “This was her favorite one.” He pulled out a rich green silk.

“It’s beautiful.” She came to his side. “She wears this in the painting downstairs.”

“Yes.” He nodded as he let the material slip from his fingers, moving to the jewelry. “It’s all here,” he whispered, moving forward to trail over the bristles of a hairbrush. He plucked a red strand from it, twirling the piece delicately. “She’s all here.”

Larkyra’s throat grew tight as she heard the wonder in his voice. A boy who had found something dear he had lost. “What do you want to do with it all?” she asked.

Darius’s brows drew together. “I don’t know. Perhaps donate some of her dresses to Mrs. Everett, for those in town to have. The jewels I’ll put in our new safe. Which we’ll have to build, of course. I let Cook use the old one as his pantry after Hayzar had emptied it.”

“That was nice of you.”

“It was Cook’s idea.” Darius smiled ruefully.

“And what of this?” Larkyra turned, regarding the portrait on the far wall.

Darius followed her gaze, growing silent as he looked upon his mother.

Josephine was painted sitting on a patch of grass, the sun teasing gold glints in her red hair as the lakes of Lachlan stretched out behind her. She smiled, looking at something out of frame, as though whatever it was held her greatest joy.

“I remember this day,” said Darius quietly. “I was young, but I remember her telling me my father had this commissioned. I had thought . . . I had thought I had dreamed this memory.”

Larkyra’s heart ached for him. “What was she looking at?”

“Me.”

Oh, Darius.She wanted to pull him into her arms, her whole being longing to ease whatever emotions he now felt. But she didn’t. She remained stoic beside him.

“It’s yours now, Darius. She’s yours.”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Yes.” Larkyra corrected herself. “You’re right.”

“Everyone should be able to be in her presence.”

“You can hang her in the great hall,” she suggested. “Move both her portraits to where everyone in the castle can walk past and see.”

A gentle smile touched Darius’s lips as he remained staring at his mother. “Yes,” he said. “She would like that. She always brought such life here.”

“And she shall again,” assured Larkyra.

“Yes,” agreed Darius, sliding his fingers between Larkyra’s. His green gaze alive as it met hers. “She shall.”