Claimed By The Tyrant King

One glance at Rosalind’s work was enough for Rowan to know she would fail this class as well, because she was not painting anything close to the statue before her. Instead, she had begun shading the canvas with colors that had nothing to do with the dull gray of the sculpture, and for a brief moment, the corner of his lips lifted.

Although Rosalind could be difficult most of the time, he knew there was more to her beneath that front she carried so stubbornly.

As Lady Evelina moved from one student to another, pausing at each canvas to inspect and offer a word or two, Rowan stepped back slightly so she could pass without obstruction.

When she stopped beside Rosalind, her eyes fell on the canvas, and her expression hardened at once. This was not what had been asked of her.

"You..." Lady Evelina began through clenched teeth, but Rosalind turned to her with a dramatic gasp, and that alone made the woman’s temper flare even further.

But before she could continue, a voice cut through the moment.

"Lady Evelina."

At once, the attention of everyone in the garden shifted away from their work. Heads lifted, brushes stilled, and their eyes found Thalia standing at the edge.

Surprise spread across their faces as they took her in. She looked thinner than before, as though the past few days had taken something out of her, and her eyes were swollen from more than just lack of rest.

When their gazes dropped to the bandaged hand at her side, the memory of what had happened returned.

"Thalia," Lady Evelina said, her gaze settling on the bandages before taking in the rest of her. "You should be resting. You can catch up later."

Thalia’s gaze dropped to the ground. "His Majesty ordered that I attend," she said.

At once, Lady Evelina straightened, and her tone shifted without hesitation. "Then take your seat and begin immediately."

Thalia bowed slightly before walking forward.

A cushion had already been set for her, along with a canvas and neatly arranged brushes and paints. As she moved, she avoided meeting anyone’s eyes, especially Rosalind’s, and when she finally sat, it was beside Rosalind, though not close enough to touch.

"What’s she supposed to do with a burnt hand?" Sabine said as she added another stroke to her painting.

Thalia’s right hand was the one that had been injured, and it was the one she relied on most, so without it, the task before her seemed almost pointless. Still, Sabine did not look in her direction.

Thalia glanced to the side, toward Rosalind, and swallowed again. Deep down, she knew she should say something. She had not meant for things to go that far. She had only been afraid, and in that fear, she had made a wrong decision.

Whether Rosalind would forgive her was something she could not bring herself to face yet.

"You have thirty minutes remaining," Lady Evelina announced.

Sabine clapped her hands lightly, a satisfied smile forming on her lips. "Well... I’m done," she said as she leaned back slightly to admire her work. There was no doubt in her mind that she would win, because if there was one thing she was good at, aside from her ambition, it was painting.

"Good work, Sabine," Lady Evelina said, and Sabine dipped her head with a pleased expression.

Meanwhile, Rosalind added another streak of red across her canvas, her brush moving without direction as though she simply wanted to fill the space.

For a while, the garden fell quiet, and the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle movement of air carried the scent of flowers around them. The calm settled in gradually, easing the tension that had been hanging over them...

Until it shifted.

Alaric stepped into the garden, his expression cold as his gaze passed over them.

"Your Majesty," they said at once, bowing.

"You may continue," he replied, though he did not stop walking as he made his way toward Rosalind.

Thalia’s grip on her brush weakened immediately, and her heart began to race in her chest. She had been trying to work with her left hand, but it felt wrong, and under the pressure, the brush snapped in her grip. She froze, her breath catching as she looked toward him, hoping he had not noticed but he did not spare her a glance.

Rosalind’s palms turned damp as her thoughts began to spiral. She turned slightly to look at Rowan, searching his face for anything, but he gave her nothing in return.

His expression remained unreadable, and when she faced forward again, her gaze dropped on its own.

Had Alaric found out?

That she had been out the previous night, that she had wandered further than she should have?

Was that why he was here?

The questions came one after another, each one tightening the unease in her chest as he drew closer.

When Alaric finally stopped before her, Rosalind slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.

****

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Alaric’s lips curved into a smirk, and something lit in his eyes. "Hello, sweetheart,"

Heh?

Rosalind blinked, caught off guard.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at once, and her heart began to race, though not entirely from fear. "Your Majesty?" she said, swallowing as confusion settled in.

Wasn’t he supposed to confront her? To make it clear that he knew where she had been the night before? Instead, he was smiling... and calling her Sweetheart.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently, even though he already knew.

Rosalind frowned slightly. What was this sudden change?

The last time she remembered, he had spoken of continuing that absurd conversation later, and now he stood before her as if nothing had happened. He was not meant to be this way with her.

"Painting," she said after a moment, clearing her throat as she forced her attention back to the canvas.

Alaric stepped closer and crouched at her side without hesitation.

Rosalind’s mouth parted slightly in surprise. Was he truly doing this here?

The others had begun to notice as well, their attention drifting despite themselves, but Alaric paid them no mind.

"It looks..." he began, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the canvas.

Rubbish, Rosalind finished inwardly.

"...lovely," he said instead, smiling at her.

...!?

"It would look even better if you tried it this way," Alaric continued, and before she could question him, he reached for her hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle as he dipped it into the paint and guided it across the canvas.

Rosalind turned slightly to watch him, her breath catching without reason she could name and her heart skipped a beat.

"How’s that?" he asked, turning toward her.

Her eyes widened at how close he was. Sometimes she forgot how dangerous he could be, even though he looked almost unreal.

Not far from them, Rowan looked away.

His jaw tightened as he fixed his gaze elsewhere, unwilling to watch any longer. Something in him reacted sharply every time Alaric touched her, every time he stood too close to her and he could not explain it. He only knew that the feeling refused to settle.

Lady Evelina cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention back at once. Rosalind pulled her hand away immediately, while Alaric rose to his feet without haste.

"Time is up. Remove your brushes from the canvas," Lady Evelina instructed.

They all obeyed.

"Your Majesty," she continued, "please review the paintings and choose the one most deserving of the reward, as you have stated."

"I have already decided," Alaric said, without even glancing at the others.

Sabine held her composure, though excitement flared within her. There was no doubt in her mind. She would win.

Rosalind, on the other hand, did not even consider the possibility as there was nothing on her canvas worth acknowledging.

Thalia simply wished to leave, her discomfort growing by the second, while Verity remained calm, and Claire showed little interest, already certain of the outcome.

"...Rosalind is the winner," Alaric declared.