Oil on Canvas

“Miss Victor, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She says as evenly as she can.The artist says nothing.Bernadetta swallows back her fear and pushes on. “I hope your passage into Varley was safe and smooth.”Still, she does not say a word. She barely breathes. Bernadetta gropes for something, anything to get her to talk and stop staring.“C-Could I offer you tea and refreshment after your journey—”“Bernadetta.” She whispers, her voice so thin and quiet.Her eyes grow bigger as Bernadetta nods. “As in Bernadetta von Varley.”She nods again.“As in, attended the Officer’s Academy in 1180.”“Y-Yes. H-How did you know that?” Bernadetta glances back to her valet, almost ready to give the sign for help.“My husband attended the same year!” She says excitedly, clasping her hands to her chest. “Ignatz Victor. I’m his wife, Maya.”—In which Raphael Kirsten escorts his sister, Maya, into the Empire some twenty years after the war to paint a reclusive countess’s portrait.