Victoria
Nicos's studio was located in a small whitewashed building with a bright blue door, tucked between a pottery shop and a taverna. The scent of oil paints and turpentine greeted me as I stepped inside, along with the artist's friendly smile.
"Ah! My beautiful muse returns," Nicos said warmly, coming forward to clasp my hands. "You're just in time—I've finished your portrait."
He led me to the back of the studio where a canvas stood covered with a cloth. With a flourish, he removed the covering, and I gasped.
The woman in the painting was me, yet somehow more. Sitting on the beach, her face turned slightly toward the sea, she emanated a quiet strength and wild grace that took my breath away. Nicos had captured something in my eyes—a hint of my fae heritage perhaps—that
