Oriana found solace in the tales of the past woven by her grandfather, oblivious to the passage of ti until the sun stood high above them, casting its midday glow. "Grandpa, it’s ti for you to rest," she gently suggested.
Philip, weary but content, nodded in agreent. For so long, he had guarded his past and family secrets, shielding Oriana from them. Yet today, after years of silence, he found himself pouring out his mories, reliving monts long buried in the recesses of his mind. The joy of sharing his stories with Oriana ward his soul, transporting him back to a ti before the weight of mortality bore down upon him.
With Oriana’s help, Philip settled into bed, slipping into sleep with ease, his frailty evident despite the dication ant to prolong his fleeting vitality. Oriana, her concern etched upon her features, checked his pulse, her heart heavy with the looming inevitability of his departure.
Leaving Philip to his slumber, Oriana stepped out into the corridor, where Rafal awaited her. "Your Highness, the King and Queen of garis are preparing to depart. His Highness requests your presence before their leave," Rafal inford her.
Oriana almost regretted forgetting about them and ordered, "Please arrange the carriage for . I will leave this instant."
"It’s already been arranged," he inford.
Grateful for Rafal’s consistent efficiency, Oriana acknowledged his efforts with a nod before turning to her servant, Ana. "Ana, keep watch over Grandpa. I’ll return shortly," she instructed.
"Of course, Your Highness. Rest assured about lord Verner," Ana bowed lightly.
With her appointed knights accompanying her carriage, Oriana set off for Wildridge Manor.
Drayce and Seren remained there, awaiting the arrival of the garian royal troop, which had departed Griven several days prior. In a bid to spare Seren the rigors of travel, Drayce had decided to teleport directly to garis on the day of the troop’s arrival at the palace.
Upon reaching Wildridge Manor, Oriana found Drayce, Seren, and Slayer engaged in conversation with Arlan in the garden, with Snowflake nearby. As Oriana stepped out of the carriage, the majestic white wolf approached her with evident excitent, though she restrained herself from jumping. Instead, Snowflake stood calmly before Oriana, her gaze fixed upon her.
Oriana reached out to gently touch Snowflake’s forehead. "It seems like you’ve missed , Snowflake," she remarked softly.
In response, Snowflake pressed her head against Oriana’s, a silent exchange passing between them. Though initially perplexed, Oriana understood the unspoken invitation and leaned in, resting her forehead against Snowflake’s. In that mont, a connection sparked between them, and Oriana sensed an inexplicable bond forming. She could feel the wolf’s emotions as if they were her own, and she realized that Snowflake was genuinely happy to see her.
"She is trying to create a connection between you two."
She turned her attention to the source of familiar voice. That was Drayce who approached her along with others.
She bowed respectfully as Drayce addressed her, his words drawing her focus back to Snowflake. "Could you sense sothing from Snowflake?"
Oriana nodded in affirmation. "I could feel her emotions."
Drayce nodded knowingly. "As you spend more ti with her, your bond will only grow stronger."
Having heard about her destined connection with Snowflake, Oriana still grappled with understanding its significance. "Snowflake may appear calm, but she’s truly happy to see you. She’s been eagerly awaiting your return," Seren chid in, offering her insights.
Oriana looked at Seren, "Can you feel her as well, Your Majesty...?" Seren raised a brow, only to make Oriana change her words, "...I an, Seren..."
Pleased to hear it, Seren answered, "It’s said that I inherited a unique gift from my mother—a knack for taming and understanding beasts. I never fully comprehended it until now, through Snowflake. Even without a direct connection, I can sense her feelings and understand her."
Oriana absorbed Seren’s words, expressing her regret, "I apologize for not being able to be here and leaving you alone."
"It’s alright. I wasn’t alone, and Drayce took to so other places. I was far from bored," Seren reassured Oriana. "You should cherish these monts with your Grandpa. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to et again."
"Thank you for your understanding," Oriana expressed her gratitude.
"We’ll take our leave now," Drayce announced, turning to Arlan, who had been a bystander during his wife’s conversation with the guests.
Arlan nodded in acknowledgnt. "We’ll et again."
Slayer bowed respectfully to Oriana and Arlan before positioning himself by Drayce’s side, ready for their teleportation back to garis.
Once they departed, Arlan turned to Oriana, noticing her uncertainty. "Are you planning to return right away?" he inquired, gauging whether she intended to go back to her grandfather.
Shaking her head, Oriana replied, "I can stay here for a while."
"Good," Arlan said, taking her hand gently. "I have sothing for you." With that, he led her inside the manor, guiding her upstairs to the right wing instead of their usual leftward path toward their chambers.
Curious, Oriana questioned their destination. "Where are we going?"
"Are you disappointed that we’re not heading to our chamber?" Arlan teased playfully as he continued leading the way.
Oriana felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, instinctively wanting to retract her hand from his grasp, but he held it firmly. "I didn’t an..."
"Don’t worry. We’ll visit our chamber eventually, but I have sothing else in mind for now," he interjected, his tone suggestive. "Just know that while you may not think about it, I find myself thinking about taking you to bed every single mont."
Oriana remained silent, anticipating Arlan’s next words. She decided to simply go along with whatever he had planned.
As they passed through several doors, Oriana’s curiosity heightened. When they finally reached the last door, her expression transford into one of surprise, even shock.
Before her stretched a grand open room, one entire wall revealing a breathtaking view of the mountainside. Yet, it wasn’t the view that left her stunned, but the myriad of beautiful paintings adorning every inch of the room. Oriana was overwheld by the sheer beauty and variety before her, unsure of where to direct her gaze first. Each painting seed to possess its own captivating allure, depicting landscapes, palaces, diverse cultures, wildlife, and everything that could be in existence.
Despite her lack of expertise in the arts, Oriana couldn’t help but be enchanted by the exquisite works adorning the walls. It was as though she stood in the midst of a gallery showcasing the finest masterpieces of the world.
Struggling to find adequate words to express her admiration, she turned to Arlan. "Did you create all of these?" she asked, her voice tinged with awe.
Arlan simply nodded, seemingly unfazed by the magnitude of his artistic talent. Instead, he strode purposefully toward a wooden stand positioned prominently in the center of the room. Covered by a pristine white silk cloth, it held a painting waiting to be revealed.
"But I brought you here to show you this." He unveiled the painting, revealing it to Oriana with a tender smile. "You might like to see this more."
Oriana’s gaze fixated on the canvas, her breath catching in her throat. "This?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Arlan nodded solemnly. "The person you longed to see—your mother."
Stunned, Oriana stood rooted to the spot, her eyes locked on the portrait before her. The image of the woman depicted was hauntingly familiar—hazel eyes akin to hers, cascades of long red-blond hair mirroring her own, and a gentle smile radiating maternal warmth. The painting exuded such lifelike realism that Oriana felt as though her mother were truly present, gazing back at her.
As if drawn by an invisible force, Oriana approached the painting, her movents slow and deliberate. With trembling fingers, she reached out, gently tracing the contours of her mother’s face depicted on the canvas.
"My mother?" she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
"Yes, this is how I rember her. Just like this," Arlan affird softly.
Oriana studied the portrait, committing every delicate feature to mory, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Turning to Arlan, she finally spoke, her voice trembling with gratitude. "You painted this?"
Hadn’t she expressed her longing to see her mother only the previous night? Arlan had been by her side until the early hours of the morning. How had he managed to create such a detailed painting in such a short ti, solely to fulfill her heartfelt wish?
Arlan nodded, his expression tender. "A gift for you. You can keep it."
Overwheld with gratitude, Oriana took a step forward and embraced him tightly, her tears staining his white shirt.
"Thank you so much," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I never thought I’d have the chance to see my mother ever."
Arlan returned her embrace, offering silent comfort as she cried.
Once Oriana had regained her composure, she pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Do you still rember her well enough to paint her?" she inquired softly.
"Let’s just say my mory is a bit sharper than most. Once I’ve seen sothing, I don’t easily forget it," he replied casually, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"When did you paint it?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I painted it this morning after returning here," he explained.
"So quickly?" she marveled.
"Perhaps... unusually skilled and highly efficient I am," he replied with a faint smile.
Oriana returned his smile, her gratitude overflowing. "Thank you again, truly. I an it from the depths of my heart."
"From the depths of your heart?" Arlan’s cleared his throat , his tone turned playful. "Then what do I get in return?"
Surprised by his question, Oriana asked, "What do you want?"
"Your heart," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "I want your heart, Oriana Verner."
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