Back in my bedroom, I sat on my bed to try and tweak Dorian’s portrait, but no matter how hard I tried, the man I drew looked nothing like the prince. The man depicted in the sketchbook didn’t even come close to resembling him. He was still incredibly handsome, but more rugged. More…imperfect.
I needed to practice more to get it right. That was the only explanation.
Jenkins suddenly entered the room, followed by three other staff members who were all carrying a variety of tools.
One brought an easel and placed it by the window, another brought a stool, and finally, one set a briefcase onto the mattress beside me and flipped the locks to open it.
Inside, it was an artist's dream. Graphite pencils, erasers, brushes made with animal fur, expensive paints, sharpeners, blending tools… It
