They gave me two whole hours for the painting. During that time, while I was fully absorbed in my task, the other girls sat off to the side, watching me with varying expressions on their faces. Some were curious, others dismissive, and some were almost skeptical, but no one spoke a word. The silence that settled in the room was thick and heavy, almost suffocating. It felt as if the air itself was pregnant with anticipation, as though everyone was waiting for me to fail—waiting to see me falter under the pressure. The only sound that broke the stillness was the occasional scraping of my paintbrush against the canvas and the soft rustling of food wrappers as the others ate their meals. Every now and then, I would feel their eyes on me, but I refused to let it distract me. I stayed focused, blocking out the tension in the room and concentrating solely on the strokes of my brush. The task at hand became my world, and nothing else seemed to matter.
The others, meanwhile, were absorbed in their own activities. Some glanced at me from time to time, but for the most part, they ignored me and ate in silence. The odd mix of disdain, curiosity, and doubt radiated off them, but I didn't let it affect me. The clock on the wall ticked away in the background, but I didn't even notice the passing of time. Hours could have gone by, and I wouldn't have realized it. I was entirely absorbed in the act of creation, the swirling colors coming to life under my hands as I worked. It was a quiet kind of magic that happened when you lost yourself in your craft, and I was completely enchanted by it.
The canvas was no longer just a blank surface; it had become a world of its own, a reflection of the images in my mind. The strokes I made with the brush felt like second nature. The colors bled into each other in the way I had envisioned, forming shapes and patterns that were just right. Everything seemed to flow seamlessly, as if I was merely guiding the brush, letting the picture come alive on its own. I was lost in the rhythm of the task, and even though I could feel the eyes of the others on me, I didn't let it break my concentration.
When I finally finished, I realized with a start that the two hours had passed by in what felt like mere minutes. I stepped back from the canvas, my arms aching slightly from the prolonged concentration, but the sense of satisfaction I felt was overwhelming. I wiped my hands with the tissue they had given me, carefully cleaning off the excess paint before slowly placing my blindfold back on, completely covering my eyes. I still had twenty minutes left on the clock, but there was no need to rush. The atmosphere in the room felt charged—every person waiting to see what I had created, what I had pulled off in this short time. I could feel their eyes on me, but I was calm, composed, and in control of the situation.
Standing still for a moment, I collected my thoughts. There was a sense of nervous anticipation within me, but it wasn't born from fear—it was excitement. I was ready to face whatever reaction came my way. I had given my best, and that was all I could do.
"Are you finished, Princess?" The Queen's voice broke the silence, sharp and expectant, but with an undercurrent of something else—maybe curiosity, maybe surprise. She was trying to mask it, but I could feel her wondering what I had accomplished in these two hours.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" I replied, my voice steady, but with a hint of satisfaction that slipped through despite my attempt to sound neutral. I lightly touched the edges of the painting frame, grounding myself before standing tall and turning toward them. "How is it?" I asked, even though I knew the blindfold prevented me from seeing their reactions. I could still sense the shifts in the atmosphere. I knew them, every single one of them, and the energy in the room told me everything I needed to know. The mixed emotions swirling around me told their own story—shock, surprise, and underneath it all, a deep-seated anger. Not because the painting was bad, but because they had expected me to fail. And now that I hadn't, they didn't know what to think.
"Is it bad?" I asked, my voice feigning innocence, but my tone held a sharp edge beneath it. I had every right to feel this way. The bitterness had been building up in me, and now, it slipped into my words. I wanted to make them feel the sting of my success, just a little.
"I feel like I'm looking in the mirror," Rai muttered under his breath, a hint of surprise in his voice, though he quickly masked it with a sarcastic laugh. "What a surprise!" He was trying to downplay it, but it was obvious—he was as surprised as everyone else.
"How?" The Princess's voice cut through the air, full of disbelief, frustration, and a mixture of awe. "How did you do this?"
"It's called talent, Princess," I replied smoothly, my voice steady but with a hint of bitterness I couldn't quite conceal. "Have you heard of it?" The words were soft, almost sweet, but they carried an undeniable edge. "If any of you had bothered to get to know me, you would know that I'm actually quite skilled when it comes to art. I'm self-taught, by the way, since no one else bothered to teach me!"
I could feel the collective frustration in the room. They had expected me to fail—no, they had wanted me to fail. But I hadn't. And now, there was nothing they could do but sit in their own discomfort, facing the fact that I had not only met their expectations but had exceeded them.
"I have to admit that not even my children are able to paint like you just did, Nsomi," the Queen said, her voice tinged with reluctant admiration. The words were soft, but I could hear the underlying respect. The Princess, however, wasn't having it. I heard her angry groan, barely contained, and the tension in the room ratcheted up another notch.
"Show it to the other girls!" the Queen ordered, her voice now more authoritative, more insistent. "This is what we expect from you!" She was almost pushing them to accept it, pushing them to see the truth in front of them.
"You are amazing, Princess!" Rebekka exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and full of excitement. I could feel the sincerity in her words, even though I wasn't used to hearing such praise. It was unexpected, and for a moment, I felt a warmth flush through me. It was nice to be acknowledged, even by someone I barely knew.
"Thank you, Rebekka!" I said, my voice softer than usual, my cheeks warming at the unexpected compliment. I wasn't used to this kind of attention, but it felt good. Really good. "What's the next test, my Queen?" I asked, eager to move on to the next task. I had a feeling it was going to be singing, but I wanted to confirm it.
"Musical aptitude," the Queen said, nodding as she spoke. "It's a singing test. Can you do it?"
I nodded confidently, my mind already racing through the notes of songs in my head. "Yes, Your Majesty, I can."
"Then I'll choose the song," the Queen said, her tone firm and commanding. "If you know it, you can sing it. If not, my assistant will bring you the paper with the lyrics." I felt a rush of reassurance at her words. I knew I could handle this. Singing was something I had practiced for years, ever since Avy had insisted I learn it for her when she struggled with the notes herself. "Each of the girls sang a different song," the Queen added, "and the same will happen with you."
I smiled inwardly, feeling the familiar confidence that came with knowing something inside out. Singing was one of the things I excelled at, and I wasn't worried in the least.
"Have you heard of a song called 'Golden Hour'?" the Queen asked casually, though her voice carried a weight to it that made me focus. The name clicked in my mind, and I nodded almost immediately.
"Yes, I know it. By Sofia Haering?" I asked, confirming the song. Sofia Haering was a famous singer from House Nyra's territory. She was known for her beautiful, haunting voice, and the song was one that Avy used to love.
"Yes, that's the one," the Queen confirmed with a small, pleased smile. "I'll give you some time to prepare," she said, and turned to someone behind me. "Bring her a glass of water!"
A moment later, a maid arrived, carrying two glasses of cold water. She handed them to me with a small bow. "Thank you very much," I said softly, my voice calm and collected as I accepted the glasses. I took the first one, drinking it slowly, savoring the coolness that helped calm my nerves. The water gave me a moment of peace, a chance to center myself before the next challenge.
Taking a deep breath, I prepared for the song. "I'm ready!" I announced, my voice steady, full of confidence.
"Then, everybody stay silent!" the Queen commanded, her voice filled with authority. The room immediately fell into complete silence. Not a sound could be heard.
All I could focus on now was the music, the lyrics, and the moment ahead of me. Everything else faded away.