Chapter 50 - The Purple Castle
By the time the first snow of December began to fall, blanketing Manhattan in a soft, pristine white, the old ghosts of the Blackwood estate on Long Island had been banished.
Inside the warm, fire-lit library of the mansion, Sofia lay on her stomach on the thick Persian rug. Spread out before her was a massive sheet of drafting paper.
Maya sat on the floor beside her, holding a deep purple crayon.
"So, the castle needs to be purple," Maya instructed playfully, sketching a grand, lopsided turret. "Because as we established, purple is the bravest color."
"And the dragon has to be green!" Sofia demanded, picking up an emerald crayon and aggressively scribbling a scaly tail wrapping around the castle walls.
Dante stood by the doorway, leaning against the dark walnut paneling, a glass of amber scotch resting forgotten in his hand. He watched the two of them, the heavy, suffocating silence of his past completely shattered by their joyous chatter.
Maya looked up, catching his eye from across the room. She offered him that same gentle, unhurried smile that she had given him on the very first night at Bellanote.
Dante walked over, setting his glass on a side table. He didn't drop to one knee out of desperation this time, but out of love. He sat on the floor beside them, picking up a bright orange crayon.
"What about the sun?" Dante asked softly, his deep baritone vibrating with warmth. "Every castle needs a sun."
"Draw it with sunglasses!" Sofia giggled, leaning into her father’s side.
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As Dante sketched the ridiculous, jagged sun wearing crooked sunglasses, Maya’s hand slipped across the paper, her fingers resting gently over his. Dante turned his hand over, intertwining his scarred fingers with hers.
They sat together on the floor of the fortress, no longer a king, a waitress, and a broken child, but simply a family, drawing their own world in vibrant, unbroken colors against the dark.
