Page 127 of The Last Guardian

Beside that, there was another painting, of a boy chasing a brown dog across a yard. A third image captured a young girl plucking daisies from a field, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

I came to a halt in front of the last, where a young boy with dark hair and gentle features was sketching a sunset over the sea. He smiled, admiring his new creation, and dimples formed on his cheeks.

My heart soared when I recognized him.

Zaid.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Nefeli had moved behind me. “Zaid used to draw all the time as a child,” she added.

I turned my head slightly to study her with shock. “Is that Zaid’s work?”

Nefeli smiled and gave me a nod.

“Has he stopped painting?” I asked, returning my attention to the picture. How beautiful it was. I wanted to learn more about him, to see more. Everything.

No, you can’t, I reminded myself, not when you already suffer so much.

Nefeli replied, gently stroking the boy’s cheek in the artwork, “Sometimes, when his mind is at peace, it happens. But it’s rare. His last artwork was this one, which is at least a decade old.” She pointed to the painting in front of us.

My jaw dropped in awe. “Zaid painted all of these pieces?” I asked, surprised.

My heart melted.

“Yes.” Her smile broadened, and she whispered, “There are more throughout the house. He doesn’t like that I hang them everywhere, but I love them all. They remind me of another life. When he was at peace enough to paint or draw something simply out of pure wonder.”

A quiet moment followed, but only beauty remained. Each piece was a gateway to a new realm. His own world.

The small flame flickered in my chest—the one only Zaid was capable of rousing.

I diverted my gaze from the artwork, blinking away tears as my gaze fell towards Lyra, who was nearby, staring at me. Suspiciously.

I ignored her stare.

“I will show you around the house,” Nefeli said, turning to Lyra. “Dax will get your belongings from the inn.”

“Great!” Lyra replied without meeting Nefeli’s gaze.

Nefeli tensed, glancing in my way, but resumed. “The house is not large—will it bother you if you share a room?” Nefeli asked, pointing at Lyra and me. “Plus, you have probably much to catch up on,” she added with a smile.

Lyra glared at her. I frowned at her strange behavior, and to ease the tension, I smiled. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Nefeli stared at Dorian. “And you?” she called. “Do you mind sharing a bedroom with Arthur?”

Dorian was eyeing a model ship by one of the bay windows; he looked back at us and walked over to meet us. “Don’t mind at all,” he said.

He curled his arms around Lyra. A small, malicious smile curled on his lips, and I knew he was about to say something stupid. “If you need to switch rooms to blow off some steam, just let me know—Ah!”

Lyra punched him in the ribs and he groaned in pain.

“Worth it,” Dorian replied hoarsely, while Nef and I laughed at the sight.

Nefeli ushered us to the end of the corridor. The house, though small, was charming, big enough to accommodate a few guests.

A rich blue carpet welcomed us in the living room, contrasting beautifully with the dark floorboards and filled with plush brown armchairs and sofas arranged around a roaring fireplace. Large windows bathed the room in natural light, while a curved wall led us into the dining room, where a long, deep-brown table stood out against the rest of the furniture.

“If you need to eat, the kitchen is through there,” Nefeli pointed out before leading us down the corridor and up the stairs.

The house was flooded with sunlight, courtesy of the windows that followed us throughout. Nefeli guided each of us to our respective rooms.