The portraits' hall (2)

«Oh no, my Lady,» the maid exclaims. «The first Lady has her own portrait.»

Of course she does, I'm looking at her.

There is a small painting next to the huge one with the last Lord and Lady. There's a woman alone in it. It's a half-length portrait.

Her hands are joined in the front, showing a beautiful emerald ring. Her fingers are tiny and long, elegant like only a princess can be. Her black hair is straight and loose on her shoulders, while a little smile lingers on her lips.

What attracts all the attention, though, are her eyes. Blue like the purest of the gems.

The exact same shade as the eyes in my dreams. I've seen them many times before finally seeing the child whom they belonged to.

«This is my husband's mother?» I mumble, even though it's rather clear. I can see the similarities in the shape of their eyes, even if the colours are so different.

«Yes, it is, my Lady.»