Chapter 158

Grace

My lips twitched. "No. I didn't get a chance with everything that's gone on today."

"Good," he said. "I'm glad my souvenir will be well-received."

My eyes widened. "You got her glitter paint?"

"How could I resist?" He asked, his smile indulgent. "I've never heard of art programs in werewolf schools. And I don't know much about werewolf school, but at least at home, they'll be of use, right?"

I blinked at him, suddenly struck with the realization that we really were from two different worlds, not just because he was a king or anything, but that lycan culture was so different than ours. I looked down at my plate. Would that cause problems later? He probably wouldn't believe me when I told him the truth.

"There aren't... art programs in school."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I mean, we learned colors and all that, but we don't have much by way of the arts."

"Dance? Music?Nothing?"

I shook my head. All of the music we had came from humans or lycans. We had no artists of our own that I could think of.

"Everything is so focused on the sciences, and it starts early. I can't remember ever having art classes or music lessons in school."

Leaning back in my chair, I sighed. "I bought Cecil paint and coloring books on a whim, hoping to find something we could do together, but looking back at it, I remember that the only reason I even knew how to paint was that my mom used to get them for me. It wasn't something taught in school."

I looked at him. "Now that I know mom was a lycan... I suppose I should expect you to say that lycans have plenty of art."

He smiled briefly. "The portraits in your city hall were done by a lycan artist." He shook his head. "No wonder so many of you are so miserable."

I bristled. "What does that mean?"

"Werewolf culture is so focused on... survival. How can you live if all you're doing is surviving?"

I blinked at him, unsure of what to say. He shook his head.

"I figured it wasn't prominent, knowing what I know about your government and schooling system, but I had never imagined that there was nothing. You all have sports but no arts?" He shook his head. "Lycan culture is steeped in the arts — music, painting, literature. It's integral to our way of life. Craftsmanship, the works..." He frowned. "Though, as I think about it. There aren't many werewolf architects or things of that nature, are there?"

I shook my head.

"How does that make you feel? The absence of arts in werewolf education?" He smiled. "Is that something you want to change?"

My eyes widened as part of our conversation echoed in the back of my mind.

"I think so... Cecil would be heartbroken if she didn't get coloring breaks... She might quit school before she even began."

Charles laughed. "I could see that."

I shifted in my seat. "Will you... tell me what it's like? Being educated in the Clans?"

He smiled warmly. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Between bites of Charles' flavorful cooking, he shared snippets of his lycan education, painting a vivid picture of a curriculum rich in the arts, literature, and cultural exploration.

"I can't believe you went cave diving for a class when you were ten. Was that safe?"

"Perfectly," he said. "It was a study in the earth. Lots of fun. I didn't get to the point where I was in a laboratory setting, but I interned at an apothecary for a bit before I started shadowing my father when it was obvious that I hadn't inherited enough of my mother's magic for it to be required that I take extensive witch training."

I shook my head, amazed at how different it was.

"I've never been on a field trip except to Wolfe Medical when I was in high school."

He shook his head. "Do you actually like the sciences? Does it bring you joy?"

I considered it. "I think I learned to like the sciences... The way a carpenter might like his favorite chisel."

I shrugged. "It didn't matter, honestly. I was always slated to be the alpha."

Charles nodded. "I suppose it would explain why you ditched both at the first opportunity if neither brought you joy."

I set my jaw. "You're kind of being an asshole."

"Am I? Or am I just telling the truth?" He smiled wryly. "There's no shame in waking up one day and realizing that the thing you've been pouring so much energy into hasn't brought you any joy."

"Does it bring you joy?"

He smiled. His eyes sparkled. "Yes... even though it's cost me a great deal."

I could see it in his eyes, and I was shaken and speechless. I looked away. I pushed the darker thoughts away and tried to focus on something else to say, yet my mind kept going back to his question.

Does it bring you joy?

I thought of Cecil and how happy she was with her colors and paints. How she laughed and smiled happily as she built whatever came to mind with her blocks and played with her dolls. The thought that one day she wouldn't have that joy anymore was heart-wrenching.

But how was I supposed to save that? Protect it? I could send her to the lycan territories, I guess, and Richard too, but what about all the other kids in Mooncrest?

I bit my lip.

"What's on your mind?"

"I just... wondered if I could protect Cecil's joy," I said. "Maybe not forever, but... for long enough that she could learn to protect it herself."

I fiddled with my fork. "I... I forgot that I hadn't touched any of my painting stuff. I hadn't even picked up a paintbrush again until Cecil could hold one..."

"... I suspected she had to get it from somewhere."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Not Devin?"

He snorted. "Devin is literally color blind in one eye, and he hates being messy. He played an instrument when he was younger. I'm sure he still does."

I didn't know that. I'd never heard it, and I wondered if he played it for Amy. The thought burned, so I turned away from it. Then, Esme's magical nudge tugged on my mind. I grimaced, looking at the books that seemed to be calling me. My plate was empty. There was nothing else to keep me from the task, and it made me not want to do it even more.

I envied Eason's ability to make himself focus on anything.

"You're glaring at the books again," Charles said, sounding amused.

What's holding you back, Grace? Is it the subject matter or something else?"

I sighed, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. "I've never been good at studying. Even in high school, I hated it and tended not to do it."

My lips twitched. "There's a reason I couldn't get into Northfall."

I sat back and sighed.

"You got into your doctorate program, so you had to have found something that worked for you."

I shook my head. "Not really. Flashcards and all that bore me to tears. The only times I managed to buckle down were when I stumbled onto something I was genuinely curious about, a question that begged for answers."

He hummed. "The longevity drug has literally been your muse through your whole program."

I nodded.

Charles nodded, understanding. "So, what if you could tailor your learning experience? What if you had the freedom to explore what genuinely interests you?"

The thought perked me up a bit. "I suppose that would make a difference. It's just hard to get excited about things when they're forced upon you."

He grinned. "Try not to think of it as something forced up on you, but something you could use. Hasn't that been part of your worries? That you feel like you don't know enough to trust your decisions? Consider what a difference it would make if you just knew... basic tax law? The definitions of negligence?"

I pondered his question, the wheels in my mind turning. Legal stuff might help with the patent situation, but I had a whole legal team whose job was to sort that out.

"Stop," he said, reaching out to take my hand. "Look at me."

I looked at him.

"Forget what I just said. Don't think about the subpoena. Think smaller. More personal. Something you actually deeply care about."

He stood and walked around the table.

"I believe in you, but if whatever you decide as your guiding question for the night isn't enough, consider this: if you finish at a reasonable enough hour," his voice dropped to a low rumble in his chest as our gazes met. "Maybe I could give you a private lesson that's of more interest to you, hm?"

I bit my lip, reading all the filthy promises in his eyes. My gut clenched.

"You really know how to motivate a woman."

"I guess we'll see," Charles said, taking my plate. The books slid back in front of me. "I'll be waiting in your room."