"What is it?" Darius said in a solemn voice.
Livia stood at the door as thought she was a stranger, she held onto the door frame and blinked slowly. "You are painting again?"
Darius set the paintbrush down with more force than he intended, the soft clatter against the edge of the table a sharp punctuation in the quiet room. The morning light spilled in from the tall windows, catching the unfinished canvas in gold, the face half-rendered in strokes of ochre and carmine.
Livia remained in the doorway, her hand still resting lightly against the carved wooden frame. "You are painting again?" she repeated, her voice gentler now, tempered with a careful wonder.
Darius did not answer right away. He stared at the canvas, at the likeness of Serena in profile, her expression contemplative, her gaze caught on something beyond the frame. It was far from finished, but the emotion had poured out of him in such a rush that it startled him.
