Chapter 66: Part 1

Music recommendation: Dove Cameron- We belong

Time period: 14th-15th century (Some facts have been bent to fit into story).

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Madeline's already wide eyes stared back at Calhoun, and she pushed his chest with her hands to get away, which he didn't. He watched her trying to get away from him, but he was having too much fun seeing her struggle. After a minute, it seemed like she finally understood that her struggle was futile against his hold.

"You knocked the canvas, paints and oil. Do you know how much they cost?" he asked before letting her go.

"I am sorry about the paints," she apologised, bowing her head as it wasn't her intention to create a mess here.

She rubbed her arms, her eyes looking down at the things she had indeed knocked. The red paint was spilt on the ground. She walked forward to pick up the canvas that laid on the ground to set it back up the way it was before, but when she tried it, the wooden stand didn't stand still and continued to fall. She felt Calhoun step forward, who swatted her hand away from the stand and in a second, he had got the stand to sit firmly on the ground along with the canvas.

Feeling awkward for the mess that was created, Madeline picked up the brushes that had clattered down, bringing it to be placed at the side of the stand.

"You don't listen, do you?" asked Calhoun, his voice deep and Madeline took a step back for him to move around the canvas.

"I didn't mean to knock them down," she whispered.

"Of course, you didn't," he gave her a look like he knew better before saying, "You got some paint splashed on the canvas. How are you going to fix it?" he asked her.

Madeline frowned, taking a look at the canvas to see spots of red that were on her face. She didn't understand how the canvas caught paint when it was the paint that fell first on the ground. Not able to keep quiet, she said, "The paint shouldn't have been there."

"Are you suggesting that I was the one who found time to sprinkle paint on the art I created?" The smile on Calhoun's lips was long gone since the time he had let her go from his arms. She didn't know what to say to this, her eyes taking in the paints before she said,

"Maybe this is the way of God telling you, you shouldn't paint things like these," she said to him, heart skipping a beat when he took a step forward towards her.

"Things like what?" he looked at her curiously waiting to hear her answer. His eyes moved to look at her lips and then to her eyes. Madeline knew that Calhoun knew what she was speaking about but instead, he wanted to hear it from her lips, "There are so many paintings in here, Maddie. Which one are you talking about?"

She clutched her hands and then replied to his question, "The one where you have painted me."

"Painted you? I have barely even touched you to paint, my sweet girl," his mouth twisted as he said this to her, seeing how quick the blood rushed to her face with his simple words that turned her embarrassed. He then said, "So what if I have painted you? It is not like the houses or the trees cry that they are seen and drawn."

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Madeline didn't know how to feel with her face painted in the canvas not by anyone but by Calhoun who was now looking at her with a smouldering gaze. It was the way he had painted her, the thought of her half-asleep with hair sprawled and only a sheet covering her body insinuated the ideas he had in his mind.

"Tell me," he pressed for an answer from her.

Madeline dropped her gaze from him, not looking at his art but instead at the mess she had created on the floor, "T-the one with me like that."

"Like how?" he asked in an oblivious tone, and she knew he was enjoying looking at her squirm, "You ruined my art and I will need to redo it, but I think I have something else on my mind to punish you for spoiling my art."

Her eyes widened at his words, and she said, "I didn't do anything. You cannot punish me for something I didn't mean to do."

"You didn't mean to step away?" he questioned her, his red eyes piercing her.

"I thought you needed some space," blurted Madeline and Calhoun's eyes narrowed that she was easily placing the blame on him as if she had his best interest and he knew Madeline's thoughts were far from it.

"Really?" he asked, the word dripping with sarcasm.

Both Madeline and Calhoun knew that he didn't need space when he was the one to conquer one's space without letting anyone breath without his command, "The punishment still stands," he reminded her. Before she had the opportunity to talk about it, he said "You need to know how to be around the King. Disobeying my words by running away, not getting ready by throwing a tantrum at the head maid, coming here to splatter paint."

Madeline wondered if the head maid had reported about how naive she was for locking herself in the room until Calhoun himself had arrived. He walked towards the other side of the room, pouring a glass of water when he said,

"I met the maid on my way here. She mentioned you weren't there in the corridor when she went to get you a glass of water," turning, he walked back towards her and offered her the glass of water, "Drink. Thought you would be thirsty as I doubt you were busy with the spider."

Hearing this, Madeline started to feel hot because of the tension. She didn't know if Theodore had told Calhoun about seeing James today. But did Calhoun know?

Did he know that James was here? Because the way he was looking at her right now, testing her, it would be good enough to guess that Calhoun had a faint idea that something was up and he was waiting for her to break down and confess to him.

Her hands reached out for the glass of water, murmuring a thank you so that he didn't find another reason to have her kiss his hand for not appreciating his kindness.

As she gulped the water, she could feel his eyes on her, and she drank the water as slow as she could, hoping he would look away, but she should have known better than this, that this was the King, Calhoun Hawthrone she was dealing with. She drank until the last drop of the water when she heard Calhoun say to her,

"Looks like you are very thirsty after the short run," and Madeline's face turned slightly pale, "Or are you going to say it was the spider that made you thirsty?" his eyes continued to stare at her.

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