The weather outside was gloomy, but the rain had stopped. The wet ground, the damp houses, and the trees all seemed to whisper, "Stay home where it's warm! It's nasty and cold out there." Yet I decided I couldn't put off the visit to the notary any longer. It took two cups of strong coffee and a hearty breakfast to make me feel capable of such a feat. Though after eating, I was more inclined to lie down on the sofa, I instead pulled myself together, recalling a phrase I'd once heard from an elderly lady: "If you're feeling lousy, get out of bed, take a shower, do your hair, and put on a nice dress. If it doesn't make your day better, at least you'll look decent in a miserable situation." So I assessed my reflection in the mirror and decided I looked quite presentable for any circumstance. I double-checked all the documents in my folder and set off.
The air was fresh, filled with the scent of rain-soaked trees. I took a deep breath, it was soothing. The walk to the lawyer's office took about half an hour, during which I managed to mull over various household tasks, deciding what needed to be done before my departure, which items to take with me, and which to leave behind. I planned to find a caretaker to look after my parents' house while I was away.
Mr. Gillespie's office was located on the ground floor of a three-story building in the very heart of the old town. The houses here were modest, no taller than four stories, with tiled roofs. The doors were mostly narrow, their wooden panels generously adorned with carvings and metalwork. Above the entrance hung a neat sign: "Gillespie. Notary Services." I used the door knocker. After a few seconds, the door opened, and I was greeted by Mr. Gillespie's assistant, Madame Rita Arca. Madame Arca always wore a benevolent smile on her face. A short, plump woman with jet-black curls and mischievous dark eyes, she had a soft, soothing voice that wrapped around you like a downy blanket and eased any worries.
"Miss Anna, my dear!" Madame Arca patted me on the shoulder and ushered me inside. "We've all been wondering when you'd finally grace us with a visit. Come in, come in!"
She closed the door behind me and hurried to take my coat to hang it on the rack. I had known Mr. Gillespie and Madame Arca for about as long as I'd known Master Blauberg, the jeweler. My parents were creatures of habit when it came to professionals. Once they found an excellent specialist, they stuck with them.
Rufus Gillespie emerged from his office a few minutes later. He was an elderly man of average height, but his impeccable posture, honed during his military service, made him appear younger than his years. Even his silver curls didn't age him as much as they did others. In his youth, that sharp gaze of his must have won over many a lady's heart. Adding to his air of mystery was his remarkable restraint in expressing emotions. I could barely recall the rare moments when any flicker of feeling crossed Mr. Gillespie's face.
"Good afternoon, Miss Demare," he greeted me tersely. "I deeply regret that the circumstances of our meeting are so sorrowful. Please, come into the office."
I settled into the client chair. The notary's office was the complete opposite of my father's workspace. Here, perfect harmony reigned, with minimal items arranged in meticulous order. Every object had its designated place and remained exactly where it belonged. One wall was dominated by a large filing cabinet containing all the documents. Mr. Gillespie pulled open the drawer labeled "D-E" on its enameled plaque and retrieved a substantial leather folder marked with the name Demare. He took his seat at the desk, unwound the cord keeping the folder closed, and began methodically extracting the papers one by one.
In turn, I produced all the documents I had brought—my folder was far less imposing—and stacked them neatly on the table in front of me. Gillespie cast a quick glance at them and murmured under his breath:
"Very good."
For the next ten minutes, he silently examined his records, my documents, and those stored in his folder. After verifying the information, he began drafting the notarial deed for the transfer of ownership. While he worked, he suggested I wait in the reception area. Madame Arca had already prepared coffee—its rich aroma filled the small waiting room.
"How have you been, dear?" Madame Arca fussed over me attentively, arranging pastries and cookies on the side table.
"I've had better days, but I won't complain."
The coffee was bitter and scalding hot. I burned my tongue and carefully returned the delicate cup to its saucer, setting it aside to cool to a tolerable temperature. Madame Arca chattered nonstop about news and gossip, peppering her monologue with questions about my personal life. She would have been the perfect conversational partner for Olivia. Put the two of them together, and they'd dissect the entire city, perhaps even the whole region. When Mr. Gillespie summoned me back into his office, I rose from my seat a touch faster than decorum strictly allowed.
"Very well, let us proceed with the reading," Mr. Gillespie said as he arranged the prepared documents before him and unsealed the will. He read aloud its contents, by which I was named the sole heir to my parents' estate, inheriting full rights to their house, financial assets, and the contents of a bank vault. I had never heard any mention of our family possessing a bank vault, so this revelation piqued my curiosity.
After signing a dozen different papers and deeds, I finally left the notary's office with a fresh stack of documents in hand. One item could now be crossed off my daunting to-do list. As I walked down the street, my mind wandered to what might be hidden in that vault. Perhaps a treasure map, an antique jewelry box filled with precious stones, or secret documents exposing the government or the Inquisition. The thought even amused me.
My feet carried me to a small restaurant wafting with the aromas of roasted meat and fresh pastries, and I decided it was time for lunch. I settled at a table by the window and ordered the enticingly fragrant meat dish with vegetables.
After finishing lunch, I headed to the bank, hoping to wrap up all my bureaucratic affairs in a single day. However, the bank employees had other plans. It turned out that accessing the vault required approval of a written application first. So I left my request for processing and exited the pompous building, slightly disappointed that I would have to wait several more days.
With no other pressing matters scheduled for the day, I strolled leisurely through the streets, watching passersby and letting my thoughts drift freely. It was pleasant to simply exist without worry for a while. Before I realized it, I had wandered into the park. Surprisingly, it wasn't as crowded as usual. I made my way toward the small pond, where beautiful benches were arranged along the shore—the same ones where my mother and I used to rest during our walks. A flock of ducks rustled through the reeds, diving and resurfacing with comical quacks and beak clicks.
When I looked up from the pond, I noticed a figure on the opposite bank. Someone I never expected to see again.
Kaiden?
He was walking along the path on the far side of the water. I froze, holding my breath as I strained to make out the dark silhouette. Maybe I was mistaken? Maybe it was someone else entirely? No, it was unmistakably him. His gait, the slight hunch of his shoulders, the way he moved his arms. Should I stay seated? Call out to him? Try to catch up? My first instinct was to run after him. But why? He was the one who had left me.
Yet… maybe he'd had a good reason.
I remained still, watching as the figure grew more distant. Then, suddenly, he slowed his steps. Turned. Continued walking, but glanced back again and… stopped.
My heart hammered wildly in my chest. Anger and joy rose in me at the same time. I held my breath, listening to the blood pounding in my ears as Kaiden walked toward me. I scrambled for words. All the sharp, clever accusations I had rehearsed in my head countless times, imagining what I'd say if I ever saw him again… They evaporated the moment he stopped just a few steps away.
"Hello, Anna," he said simply, in that familiar, achingly dear voice.
"Hello," I replied, my voice trembling.
"May I sit?"
I nodded. He settled beside me. I wrestled with conflicting urges: to throw my arms around him, and to slap him hard across the face. We were sitting in silence, watching the ducks.
"Good to see you," he said at last.
"You too," I admitted, my heart still pounding wildly. I was glad to see him, absurdly so.
"I owe you explanations. And an apology."
"You're damn right you do. And it had better be one hell of a story. Start with the apology."
"I'm sorry. Truly. For all of it."
"Mhm." I couldn't bring myself to look at him. If our eyes met again, I feared every carefully boxed-up hurt, every grievance I'd buried in the darkest corners of my mind would come spilling out, unstoppable as a flood.
"I missed you," Kaiden said, stretching his crossed legs forward and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. I'd forgotten what it was like just being near him. In the time we'd been apart, his shoulders had broadened; the lanky frame of his youth was gone, along with that endearing shyness. In its place was a brooding sternness.
"Well, I didn't disappear. You could've visited anytime. Or at least left me a damn note about where you went."
"It's… not something I could explain in two words," he hedged.
"Lucky for you, I'm not in a hurry."
"Maybe we could go somewhere warmer. Get a drink."
"I already ate," I snapped. The initial joy of seeing him curdled into irritation. I realized, sharply, that he was dodging the truth again. "Actually, you know what? I don't think I'm ready to trust you this time."
I stood abruptly. Kaiden rose with me. He was so close and yet impossibly far. His dark, nearly black eyes full of hurt at my rejection. The words tumbled out before I could stop them:
"This isn't the first time you've shown up, given me hope, then vanished. I've made peace with you leaving me. I can't let myself rely on you again. Why do you keep coming back? Not a single word for a year, Kaiden. And now—here you are. No. I won't do this. I won't survive losing you a second time. It's better if we don't start at all."
He silently pulled me into his embrace. At first I tried to push him away, but Kaiden held me firmly against him, calmly absorbing all my anger. Soon I allowed myself to relax, the inner tension that had been gripping my body for weeks eased slightly, as if his strong arms had loosened the tightly wound knot inside me. Kaiden was just a little taller than me, and I'd always found it so comforting to rest my head on his shoulder, burying my face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. Even now, I instantly recognized that warmth.
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
Those words ignited my fury like a lit fuse. I wrenched myself free and shoved him so hard he staggered back a step.
"No! I don't want to hear how sorry you are! I was always there for you. I stayed when things were hard, when you were miserable and unbearable. But where were you when I needed support, when I had no one left?! Don't you dare tell me you're sorry!" Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, and I wiped them away angrily. Kaiden reached for me again, but I slapped his hand away and took another step back. "Don't."
I tried to find words to express my feelings. He waited patiently. I shook my head, unable to say anything, and turned to leave.
"Wait. Let me explain."
I didn't stop. He didn't chase after me, only called out loudly:
"I was under Inquisition investigation."
I froze.
"Seems we'll need those drinks after all."
I studied Kaiden's behavior carefully, trying to detect any changes that might have happened to him during his time in the interrogation cells. As we sat across from each other, slowly drinking coffee, Kaiden explained that he'd been detained last autumn, accused of involvement with illegal rebel groups, which, of course, he wasn't part of and vehemently denied. After nearly ten months of interrogations in various forms, civil rights defenders had managed to secure his release. He needed some time to recover before immediately setting out to find me. He'd learned about the tragedy with my parents but hadn't dared to come to the memorial.
"Seems prison food agrees with you," I smirked.
Kaiden raised a confused eyebrow.
"You've put on some decent muscle. Don't look much like a dungeon prisoner."
"Well, guess I'll go cry a little over your unreasonable expectations," he grinned and took a sip from his cup. "Had a lot of free time."
"And not a single minute to let me know you were alive," I chided.
"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock pain. After a long look, he added, "I tried to get a message out. Nearly impossible from that side."
We fell silent again. I turned toward the window.
"So what now? You don't actually expect me to just… take you back with open arms, do you?"
"Actually, that's exactly what I was counting on," he chuckled good-naturedly, "though clearly I miscalculated."
"Seems so."
We smiled at each other, and for a brief moment, it was like old times, before this cold wall of resentment and unspoken words had risen between us.
"Anna…" When a sentence starts with your name like that, it never bodes well. Sure enough, Kaiden's tone turned serious again. "I have reason to believe the Inquisition might be watching you."
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"Why? I haven't done anything illegal," I said, carefully avoiding any mention of the blood magic I'd used right under Kiron's nose.
"You haven't, but your father was involved in research that wasn't exactly… sanctioned by the Inquisition."
"What makes you say that? He collaborated with them."
"That's precisely why he collaborated, to divert attention from his other, less lawful projects. I was part of his research team, helping gather and process certain data not meant for Inquisitorial eyes and ears."
"What kind of data?" I shifted nervously in my chair.
"The less you know, the better." Kaiden gently took my hand.
"So the knight rushes to rescue his damsel in distress," I concluded dryly. "Don't worry, I'll wrap up my affairs soon and retreat to my backwoods village. I was never involved in my father's work and have no idea what exactly he was doing. Even if they decide to interrogate me, I have nothing to tell them. You know more than I do."
"I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I'll be careful," I promised.
"I've seen your version of 'careful.' You can't help but rush to aid every soul in trouble until you land yourself in a trap."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I pulled my hand away and leaned back in my chair.
"Just stay alert," Kaiden sighed, shaking his head in frustration.
"Fine."
He sliced the air with a slight flick of his fingers, and steam curled once more over his drink as the coffee reheated.
"Do they know?"
"About what?"
"That you're a bearer."
"That never came up during interrogations. So either they don't know or don't care."
"And you don't think that by rushing straight to me, you might be drawing exactly the kind of attention we're trying to avoid?" I tried to lace the words with playful sarcasm.
Kaiden looked away.
"If we're being watched, we should act like a couple in love."
"Aren't we anymore?" He matched my light tone, though unease bled through the levity.
"You've been gone too long… And don't you dare apologize again," I quickly added, anticipating another "I'm sorry."
We spent the rest of the day together. I learned that the Inquisitors had done everything in their power to force Kaiden to confess to being part of a group advocating for the abolition of the Inquisition, and to taking responsibility for terrorist attacks. In turn, I told him about my life outside the city, the train disaster, the funeral, and everything I still needed to do before leaving Visglover.