“Hi sweetie pie! Came for lunch?” Tealina winked at him playfully.

“Can’t refuse,” said Arnel willingly, sitting down at the table.

“Do you know by any chance where our master is? Has he fallen asleep in the garden again? It won’t do him bad if he sometimes eats too!”

“Oh, he’s drawing,” the gardener replied, already devouring a steaming bean pie.

“Drawing? What do you mean by that?” the cook blinked, dumbfounded.

“Well, yes, I saw him in the gallery on the way to your place, why?”

“Has he been there all this time since breakfast? Drawing? Not just sitting and staring, but creating?”

“Yes, Tealina, what’s the problem?” the magician barked, irritated.

“But he hasn’t drawn a single picture since back then!” She explained.

Arnel raised his brows in surprise. After spending several months in the flower estate, he, of course, noticed that the gentleman, for the most part, just sat and gazed at the canvas, if he went to the workshop. But you never know, sometimes the inspiration might hit after half a year. Wasn’t that the case?

“He was really actually drawing. He even threw off his robe, and got pretty concentrated,” Arnel confirmed with a nod, to which Tealina’s eyes sparkled with happiness and tears.

“Then let’s do this. You go ahead and finish your lunch, then take these to the master.” She put out a tray with a few bowls filled with pastries and a decanter of drink on the table. “Just say I’ve sent you and leave it in the workshop if he doesn’t react. If he is concentrating, we’d better not distract him too much.”

Arnel, having finished with three patties, a light salad and lingonberry juice, picked up the tray, and walked briskly to the western wing. When he reached the workshop door he peeked through the window, hesitating for a moment, wondering if it would be alright to come in without knocking just for sake of being quiet while Master Celtiel was creating, or to knock, or just leave the tray on the table outside. Although no, in the latter case, lunch will turn into dinner, and, moreover, will completely cool down, judging from how intense Caro was working with sweat rolling down his back. He’ll do as Tealina told him and see how it goes.

“Ehem, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Tealina insisted that I–” Arnel suddenly choked on air, as Master Caro turned around to listen at the same time opening a view on the painting which he was working on.

There was Arnel. The Master was drawing his portrait. Flowing hair, eyes of the color of fresh grass with sadness splashing in them, sensual pink lips, and all his image was enveloped in an unearthly light. Oh god! He saw! He saw him at night! But when? And for how long? Until the very end? No, it cannot be…. The whole of Arnel’s body seemed to fill with lead, the tray slipped out of his hands and hit the floor. Instantly coloring up, the elf babbled something like an apology, and flew out of the workshop like an arrow left the bow, and would have rushed to barricade into his room, but as soon as he reached the yard, he was firmly seized in a circle of strong hands.

“I’m sorry! I’m so-so sorry sir!” Sobbing from the approaching hysteria, Arnel cried. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into me, I’m sorry….” and he fell silent, shaking and shedding tears.

“Arnel,” Master Caro called softly. “Arnel, stop crying, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Come on, calm down. I’m letting you go, but don’t run, okay?”

Arnel nodded, inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly while wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“There,” Celtiel turned the boy to face him, trying to catch his wet gaze. “Well done. And now let’s go and inform the thoughtful Tealina that it is worth cleaning up here and then we talk.

“I ... I will clean everything myself, it’s me–”

“No, the servants will do that, and we are going to talk.”

“I’m sorry, I really ... didn’t want to, I don’t know what’s got into me.”

“Looks like the same as what’s got into me when I first wanted to draw your portrait,” said Celtiel with a grin.

Leaving the young elf in his room, Caro went to take a bath. He got so carried away by drawing that, firstly, he completely lost track of time, and secondly, he even fizzled out from losing this habit. And this is with his skills of today! Quickly rinsing himself and donning his usual clothes, he went into the room where he left Arnel to wait for him to find a new tray of fragrant pastries and wine on a side table. Arnel was standing by the window, with his back to the gentleman. Caro couldn’t help smiling as he looked at his disheveled figure. He is insanely sweet indeed.

“Thank you for not running away.”

The magician turned around sharply. There was not an ounce of trace of the recent hysteria on his face. On the contrary, it expressed an extreme degree of concentration and a bit of alertness.

“Would you mind sharing a meal with me?” Celtiel asked, pouring wine into two glasses.

“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.”

“Then, will you take a sip?”

Arnel nodded. They sat down at a small round table.

“Arnel, I… correct me if I’m wrong…,” the blue-haired elf began timidly, but the magician interrupted him.

“Forgive me, Master Celtiel, but I am obliged to tell you something very important,” he said after drinking from a glass and gathering all his courage into a fist.

Caro nodded and looked at him closely.

“The thing is, that I was personally and quite closely acquainted with your ... with Diriel Caro.”

“What?” Eyebrows shot up above agate eyes. “How? When?”

“I met him years before I entered the academy, in a midnight spell class. And... sir, I have a message for you from him.”