Kadeen had to ask the question again in Arabic, as the owner didn’t understand at first. The man’s eyes widened at getting an open offer, and he mumbled as though unsure of what to ask for the portrait. Kadeen threw out some numbers that clearly had the man’s head spinning, and it didn’t take long for him to accept the exorbitant sum.

He shook Kadeen’s hand enthusiastically, his smile stretching clear across his face, and Kadeen patted his shoulder with a smile of his own before removing his hand.

The man breathed out something Nicole didn’t understand before dashing up the stairs, two at a time.

“What did he say?” she asked.

Kadeen’s grin was sheepish. “He’s getting some of his best wine to celebrate finding the lost portrait—though I imagine he might be a little more excited about his newfound wealth.”

“That was very generous of you,” Nicole observed, but Kadeen just shrugged.

“The price was nothing compared to the find. This,” he said, turning back to look at the portrait, “is worth all the gold in Al Qazar.”

Nicole turned back to the painting, then, getting a better look at it. It was difficult to see much in the dark, dank basement, but even with the dirt and grime, she could tell that there was a beautiful picture underneath.

It was, indeed, the Portrait of a Princess. A beautiful woman with caramel-colored skin wore a sheer lace veil over her head and shoulders. Her dress was red and gold, and it draped down into the bottom of the picture. There was a border around it which ended in a curled point at the top, like many Middle-Eastern paintings Nicole had seen from the same period.

In short, it was utterly stunning. The woman looked oddly familiar, too, though Nicole couldn’t quite figure out why.

The man returned to the basement and held out three wine glasses filled with red liquid. He handed them out before raising his glass and making a toast which Kadeen translated.

“To lost treasures being found. Cheers!”

Kadeen clinked his glass against Nicole’s, and they all took a sip. The wine was delicious, and Nicole instantly felt giddy. When she looked up into Kadeen’s eyes, she saw raw joy there—something she had never seen in him before.

When all three cups were empty, their host took the glasses and moved to go back upstairs, gesturing for Nicole and Kadeen to follow.

“You ready to pick this lady up?” Nicole asked.

Kadeen’s stare bore into the painting, as though he were trying to move it telepathically. After a moment, he nodded. “Yes, I’ll carry it.”

He lifted the painting as delicately as one would a newborn child, taking great care as he brought it up the stairs and into the light of day.

“Bet you’re second-guessing the choice of a convertible now, huh?” Nicole asked, wondering just how they were going to transfer the sizeable painting all the way back to the city.

“We’ll figure it out. All that matters now is that we have her. She’s safe.”

Nicole repressed a smile, then. Kadeen was anthropomorphizing the painting, another thing he never, ever did, and it was a joy to watch.

Glancing back at the damaged portrait, Nicole could understand why it was having such an effect on Kadeen. It was one of the most beautiful pieces she had ever laid eyes on.

They managed to strap the painting into the backseat with a sheet covering it for protection. With such fine weather, there was no risk of precipitation ruining the painting further, at least. Kadeen and Nicole bid adieu to their new friend, who bowed deeply before waving them off, his smile still very much in place.

Kadeen’s driving was noticeably slower as he turned back onto the main road and got them to the highway that ran parallel to the shore. The sun was making its way toward the horizon, a reminder of just how late Nicole had slept in after their arrival.

“Do you think you might have the energy to take a preliminary look at this, Nicole?” he asked. “I have a studio space back in the city.”

The thought of getting a closer look at the painting had Nicole’s fingers itching with anticipation.

“I’d be happy to,” she replied, and Kadeen’s grin threatened to overwhelm his face.

They drove in comfortable silence for a while before Nicole finally asked the question she’d been dying to know the answer to since the moment they stepped foot in the basement.

“Who is she, the woman in the painting?”

Kadeen glanced over at her, his dark eyes full of excitement and joy. It was contagious, and Nicole, too, felt buoyant with their discovery. What a heady sensation it was! Perhaps she would have to dabble in curating a bit more—get out of the studio every once in a while.

“She’s actually an ancestor of mine. Her name was Sheikha Ulyaa. I think she’s something like my great-great-great-great-grandmother. This portrait was completed only days before her wedding.”

“Aha! I thought she looked familiar.”

Kadeen actually blushed, then, his perfect skin coloring ever so slightly. Nicole realized he was pleased with the comparison.

“Well. I’ve seen copies before, of course, but looking at the original, I admit I can see a bit of a resemblance. It’s strange, seeing a version of yourself in something so old, so precious.”

“I can imagine it is. So what’s her story? What makes this painting so valuable?”

“The artwork itself, if we’re being unbiased, isn’t actually as valuable as I’m making it out to be. It’s the story that goes with it that makes it so alluring—much like Mona Lisa’s smile.”

Kadeen glanced back at the painting to make sure it was still secure in the backseat. When he was satisfied, he focused back on the road and continued. “The painting was commissioned in honor of the Sheikha’s upcoming wedding. There were rumors that she was in love with the artist that painted the portrait—that you can see her feelings reflected in her expression—but that nothing ever came of it, as she was due to marry the Sheikh of Al Qazar. She married the Sheikh only days after the portrait’s completion, which I admit I am grateful for, since otherwise I wouldn’t be here today.”

Nicole was surprised to find tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she thought about the tragic story behind the portrait.

Her imagination got the best of her, and she spent the rest of the drive imagining what it would be like to be the Sheikha, destined to spend the rest of her life with a man she did not love. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be painted by someone and not to be able to tell them about your feelings, to share such an intense experience with someone and not be able to tell them you loved them.

Actually, that wasn’t so hard to imagine at all.