The cobblestone path gleamed faintly beneath the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Amara trailed behind her friends, their laughter floating in the air like petals caught in a gentle breeze. The town was alive merchants calling out their wares, the faint hum of a lute playing somewhere near, and the mingling scents of freshly baked bread and morning dew. Amara smiled faintly, still lost in her thoughts about the man she had seen earlier the one with the bronze skin and quiet, empty eyes.
"Amara, over here!" Elene called, her bright auburn curls bouncing as she waved. She was standing beside a man, tall and refined, with neatly combed chestnut hair and a look that spoke of confidence. His coat was of fine make, deep blue trimmed with silver thread a mark of wealth, perhaps nobility. His smile was calm, polished, practiced, the kind one gives in courtly greetings.
"This is Lord Adrien Varrow," Elene announced proudly, tilting her head with a knowing grin. "A friend of my cousin quite the artist himself, and rather… charming, don't you think?"
Amara gave a polite nod, while Clara giggled softly beside her. "Charming, yes, but Elene," Clara whispered teasingly, "are you planning to make him your next victim again?"
Elene gasped, smirking. "Clara! You make me sound like a vulture," she laughed, fanning herself with exaggerated grace. The group burst into laughter, even Lord Adrien chuckling softly, though his eyes lingered on Amara with a hint of curiosity.
Once the laughter settled, Amara found herself asking without much thought, "Lord Adrien, may I ask… who is the man currently in the art room? The one painting by the window he had bronze skin, dark messy hair, and wore a white shirt. I happened to see him earlier."
Adrien's brow furrowed. "A man with bronze skin, you say?" he repeated, looking puzzled. "I have not seen such a person here. Surely, my lady, you must be mistaken. There is no one of that description among our painters. Bronze skin is… quite rare in these lands."
Amara blinked. "But I saw him," she said softly, her tone filled with certainty. "He was sitting by the window, painting. His expression was blank, but" she paused, remembering the strange gentleness in his gaze at the end, "but he felt… real."
Elene giggled again, leaning closer. "Oh, Amara, are you sure you didn't see a ghost?"
Clara laughed, clapping her hands together. "Yes, perhaps a handsome spirit drawn by your beauty!"
Their laughter filled the courtyard again, but Amara's expression remained thoughtful. She wasn't joking. She had seen him the soft brushstroke in his hand, the flicker of sunlight touching his cheek, the way he looked at her like time itself had stopped.
Adrien, perhaps noticing her unease, leaned slightly closer with a teasing smile. "Well, if such a man truly exists, then I must meet him myself. A man with bronze skin and talent like that would surely cause quite a stir among the artists."
Amara forced a small smile, though something about the way Adrien said it light, careless, almost flirty made her feel uneasy.
Elene clapped her hands suddenly, breaking the silence. "Enough talk of ghosts and strange painters! Let us go, my ladies. There's a new coffee house down the street that everyone has been whispering about. They say their cinnamon brew can make even a gloomy day delightful!"
"Then let us not waste a moment," Clara said cheerfully, looping her arm with Amara's.
The group left the art quarters, the sound of their laughter fading into the golden streets. The coffee house was nestled between two stone buildings, its windows glowing with warmth. The scent of roasted beans and honey filled the air, and the gentle hum of soft music floated from inside.
As they sat, sipping from delicate porcelain cups, the chatter resumed of dresses, art, and upcoming festivals. But Amara's thoughts were far away.
She could still see those eyes empty yet strangely gentle, like someone who had been silent for a long, long time. And in that fleeting glance, she had felt something cold yet familiar, as though the ticking of a clock had echoed faintly behind her once more.
...
The carriage wheels rolled softly along the stone road, the night air cool and fragrant with the faint scent of lilies. The moon hung high pale, distant, and watchful as Amara leaned slightly against the window, her reflection shimmering over the glass. The laughter of her friends from earlier echoed faintly in her ears, fading with the rhythmic clatter of hooves.
By the time she reached the gates of her family's estate, silence had settled over everything. The grand mansion loomed beneath the silver moonlight marble pillars casting long shadows, vines climbing the stone walls like memories refusing to fade. The faint rustle of leaves danced with the wind.
Inside, the candles flickered gently, filling the great hall with a soft, golden warmth. Elys, the old maid who had served her family since before Amara was born, greeted her by the door. Her white hair was neatly tied, and her gentle smile was one Amara had known since childhood.
"Welcome home, my lady," Elys said, her voice kind and full of warmth. "You must be tired. Did you have a pleasant day?"
Amara smiled faintly, unfastening her cloak as she handed it to her. "Yes, Elys. It was a good day I went to the art quarter with my friends. The city was lively today."
"That's wonderful," Elys said as she led her toward the dining room. "It's good for you to see the world outside these walls once in a while. Your father worries when you keep to yourself too long."
Amara chuckled softly. "He worries too much. I'm not a child anymore."
The dining room was vast, its high ceiling adorned with intricate chandeliers. A long table stretched down the center, covered in white linen and gold-rimmed dishes. But tonight, the seat at the head her father's seat remained empty.
"Governor Aurelius has not yet returned," Elys said quietly, as though reading her thoughts. "He sent word that he would be home late."
Amara nodded, settling into her seat. The aroma of roasted meat and herbs filled the air, but she found herself without much appetite. Elys stood beside her as always, a quiet, comforting presence.
After a few moments of silence, Elys spoke softly. "You seem lost in thought, my lady. Did something trouble you today?"
Amara hesitated, her spoon pausing midair. "No… not trouble exactly. It's just" she sighed and set her spoon down, gazing at the flickering candlelight. "There was something strange that happened earlier."
Elys tilted her head slightly. "Strange, my lady?"
Amara nodded. "At the art quarter. I saw a man… someone I've never seen before. He had bronze skin which was unusual, he stood out among the crowd. He was painting alone in one of the rooms." She smiled faintly as though trying to laugh at her own words. "He looked rather handsome, I suppose. But that's not what makes him stay in my mind."
She paused, her voice softening. "It was his eyes. When he looked at me, they were empty. Not cruel, not angry just… hollow. As if he was looking through me. But before I left, they changed. There was something gentle in them, almost human again. I… I don't know why I can't forget it."
For a moment, silence filled the room. The air grew still. Then Amara noticed something the spoon in Elys's hand trembled slightly, and her eyes, usually so calm, widened in quiet shock. Her wrinkled face seemed to pale.
"Elys?" Amara said softly. "Are you all right?"
The old maid didn't answer immediately. Her breathing quickened for a second, her gaze unfocused, distant like someone who had just seen a ghost.
Then, as if snapping back to herself, she shook her head and forced a trembling smile. "Forgive me, my lady. I… I must have been startled. It's nothing."
Amara blinked in confusion. "Startled? But why?"
Elys shook her head again, her tone firmer this time though her voice trembled faintly. "It's nothing, my lady. Please, pay no mind to an old woman's nerves. Perhaps I've simply tired myself today."
She reached out, gently adjusting Amara's napkin, her hands still slightly unsteady. "You should eat, my lady," she said with a tender smile that almost masked her unease. "A young lady must eat well to keep her beauty and yours shines brighter than any star in the governor's hall."
Amara smiled faintly, though her curiosity lingered. "You're avoiding something, Elys," she said softly, almost teasing.
The maid chuckled lightly, her eyes glimmering with false ease. "I would never hide anything from you, my lady. Now please eat before your food grows cold."
Amara hesitated but finally nodded, returning to her meal. Yet even as she lifted the spoon, her mind was restless. Elys's moment of fear that sudden flicker of dread in her eyes lingered in Amara's mind like a shadow that refused to fade.
And when she finally looked up at the window beside her, she could have sworn just for a fleeting moment that beyond the glass, under the silver moonlight, she saw the faint silhouette of someone standing near the garden wall… watching.