She moved swiftly through its brightly lit and ornate regal interior, showing him even more of the manor's beauty. In every room they entered the walls were aglow, and the floors were cleaned and polished. Everywhere they went, it smelled of fresh crisp linens and sweet-smelling fragrances. Housemaids and other staff were hard at work in cheery happy demeanor and disposition as they passed them by.
Everything was orderly, secure, and perfect. Just the way she preferred it.
"Is this the portrait hall?" Sir Reynolds asked. He interrupted their touring as he stopped to peek into an open large room filled only with portraits and paintings.
"The portrait hall?" She stiffened, sluggishly facing the room.
"Do you mind if we take a quick look?" One of his feet was already rooted past the doorframe.
She looked around then muttered, "Briefly."
They both stepped inside, Sir Reynolds glancing around the room in wonder as he did with every room they had entered.
"How lovely!" he said, walking around and viewing the wall portraits that were giants in height and size.
"Isn't it?" She lingered by the doors, watching him move like an exploring boy scout. "Generations of Suthertons portraits in here." Her eyes momentarily passed over both familiar and unfamiliar faces of her in-laws and relatives. As she met eyes with the stern and staunch men and women of the past, her mouth started to grow dry.
"My, what splendor to view!" He went up and down the room until eventually, he settled his gaze on Lady and Lord Sutherton's portrait.
In it, Lord Sutherton stood by a seated Lady Sutherton. He was dressed regally in a formal blue suit attire. In his right hand, he held his family crest's banner, and his other hand rested on the shoulder of Lady Sutherton. He was unsmiling, but his features were boyish and soft, and his large black eyes firm yet tender. She matched his attire and his unsmiling face, yet she didn't appear unhappy, rather, there was life in her eyes.
"Lady Sutherton, you almost haven't aged a day since this was painted!" He glanced back at her, matching her painted features with her actual physical features.
"No," she said curtly, peering at the painting from a distance. "I was much young then."
"Ah." He nodded, unwilling to contradict her. "Still lovely to view."
"Yes." She remained close to the exit, her eyes glancing back to the halls. "Have you seen enough?"
"I suppose I am don---." He stopped, his gaze landing on another portrait. "---The Royal Princess Kaelixson-Nier Sabina?" His eyes stumbled upon the portrait of a woman who instantly captured his attention. "This is her portrait?"
Suddenly her jaw clenched, her eyes fluttering rapidly. "…Yes. That is Sabina, my sister-in-law." Her tongue was starting to feel heavy.
"By the grace of all great things. She is incredibly, well, she's…." He was breathless. He didn't have the words to finish as he admired the woman.
"Yes, she is," she whispered, tugging her eyes down. He did not need to finish for her to know exactly what he meant to say.
He glanced at Lady Sutherton only to glue his eyes back to the painted woman. "I apologize for my reaction. I've only heard about the descriptions of her beauty. And to see her this way?" He took a deep labored breath. He seemed almost ready to fall to his knees and pray to it. "It is almost like she is standing here before us," he lowly said, looking deep into the woman's eyes, waiting for her to peer into his soul.
"Before us?" Lady Sutherton swallowed, the veins in her neck visible as they hardened under her skin. Her eyes reluctantly traveled to where Reynolds stared.
To Reynolds, those eyes were soft and delicate, but to Lady Sutherton they were different.
They were suffocating.
"By the King's blessings, there is no beauty alive in this century quite like her. It is no wonder that she stole the heart of our glorious First Prince Kaelixson-Nier."
Lady Sutherton fell quiet, her heart pulsating. A nauseating feeling was starting to grow from the pit of her stomach. Her trembling hands were rocking back and forth. Her heart was starting to skip a few beats and her face was starting to drain.
"I must admit, I've always been fascinated by the nature of the true love between our glorious Princess-Nier Sabina and Prince Kaelixson-Nier," he said, growing increasingly captivated. "I've heard stories that their love was so powerful it happened at first sight."
Unresponsive, Lady Sutherton measured her uneven breaths, a cold chill tickling her neck.
It was as if the room was dropping in temperature, seized by some unseen unspeakable sudden force.
"True love at first sight." He smiled with raised cheeks. "Truly, I did not think it existed. I don't think anyone of us believed it, until them."
Her lips trembled as he continued to joyfully speak.
"Their love for each other is inspiring. Surely there will be songs and tales talked about them for ages. I know I would tell my children in the future about it. There is so much that ought to be honored for the beauty of it and…."
His words were starting to fall on dead ears. Lady Sutherton could not process his words, nor could not process any sound. The only thing she could do was feel the thunder of her beating heart and dryness in her unblinking staring eyes.
She was losing herself. Gradually, she was sucked into the painting.
Princess-Nier Sabina.
The woman was a face she knew well. A beautiful woman, a princess, whose last image she could only remember with anxiety.
'Anya.'
There was a weak voice speaking in her thoughts.
Lady Sutherton tried to refuse the flashes of her memory, but it fought back too strong.
'Anya.'
There was a pain in those beautiful eyes, as she walked in sporadic yet choppy movements.
For a moment, she remembered feeling the otherworldly hold of watching the beauty approach like a creature resurrected from a grave. The bloodied footsteps. The dirtied dragging gown. Her crazed stare. And the blood. There was so much of it, that she had to wonder; was it Sabina who was hurt, or was it the opposite? Did she hurt someone?
Fear kept her steady in place as she recalled the suspense.
She remembered the impending doom as the bleeding specter approached her; open arms and unforgettable words.
'Anya, you know, don't you? You…you know that Vaanya, she, she came and spoke to me. She…she said, I had to---.'
"--Lady Sutherton?" At the sound of Reynold's voice, Lady Sutherton jumped.
"Lady Sutherton are you quite alright? You are appearing unwell," he said, puzzled why the blankly staring woman was so unresponsive.
"Unwell?" she whispered, her composure sinking. "I am?"
He viewed her. She was pale. Shriveling and pale.
"Yes. You were not replying and seemed to stare off distant," he said, examining her uneasy look.
"I am---." She fumbled for words for a moment, ending her unfinished babble with a clamp of her teeth into her tongue. Quiet and with an uneven step, she strode across the room to the painting.
"Lady Suthertho---?"
SCHWIP!
Rather aggressively, she pulled down the painting's protective curtain covering.
As soon as the portrait was covered, she stood there in place, unwilling to let go of the fistful of the curtain in her grip.
"Lady Sutherton?"
She glanced back at him, suddenly recognizing how strange her actions appeared. She released the painting's curtain and stepped back with a swallow.
"I am fine, Sir Reynolds." She forced a smile. "Just fine." She blinked, glancing once at the concealed painting before walking to the doors. "We've seen enough of this room. Let us go about our way." She gestured Reynolds out and shut the door with a slam.