AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Felix bowed. It was time for him to leave. He left the court in a hurry. He couldn’t wait to get back home and read Mrs. Dane’s letter.
* * *
An hour later, Felix sat on his chair perusing the contents of Mrs. Dane’s latest correspondence. The chairs were where he had left them last night. The unpeeled orange and the half-cut onion spread their pungent smell through the kitchen. It seemed that his life had firmly settled into a rhythm—one he couldn’t shake off. After his wife’s death, everything had taken on a dull cast, and the only way to go on had been to firmly lodge himself in routine. This house was a mausoleum to her memory. The only new thing was the bookcase. Felix liked to read and had bought several books since the move. Everything else, he’d moved everything the way it was from Inferno City. He’d left her possessions untouched, not having the strength to lose any of the memories that they shared. It comforted him; this predictability.
Felix stopped actively spying several years ago after being promoted to head the Sapphire Serpents. These days, he was little more than a glorified bureaucrat. He spent all his time at the office or making visits to the king.
He was at peace. Punctuated by the steady rhythm of the clock, his life went on. He spent most of his time traveling for work, but something was missing. Sometimes he wondered if this was all there was to life— being afraid to hope for more than this predictable routine. He was afraid to reach for happiness. Not that he knew how to get it. It seemed greedy to covet something he had once had. Felix had resigned himself to aging gracefully when the first letter arrived.
It had been insignificant at first but as the years went by, her words had transformed him. Now, when he looked at the stale house, he wanted to change it. But he didn’t know where to start. Maybe he should ask her for ideas. He wished he dared to throw away all of Isabelle’s possessions like Mrs. Dane had done years ago. But where would he be once he erased his wife’s memory? He was too old to start over in life, to find a new purpose.
He glanced down at the yellow parchment, finding solace in the messy scrawl that filled the page.
Dear Mr. Garrett,
Thank you for enquiring about my health. I’m afraid my allergy is acting up again. I wanted to visit the tearooms in the royal quarter you mentioned, but my job has been keeping me busy. Though I present myself as a competent store clerk, I fear I might have made a mistake. My temper got the better of me. I’m sure I’ll get an earful from my superior for this, but I don’t want to think about it right now. Reading your letters always calms me down. I’m glad to know you enjoyed the spring festival again this year. I won’t be visiting, thanks to my allergies. However, if you have time, I’d like to go to the newly opened tea rooms in the Royal Quarter. Together.
Yes, you read that right.
As you know, I am no good at making small talk, so I’ll get to the point—I’d like to meet you.
I know my request is sudden, but I feel it is time for us to meet. Please tell me you’ve been as curious about me as I have been about you. I know ours is supposed to be a pen friend relationship, but what if I want something more? Over the course of these letters, you’ve become important to me, perhaps more so than the real people in my life.
If you don’t feel the same way, I will not be offended. However, if you do, please write to me and let me know. I look forward to your reply.
Yours,
Mrs. Dane
Felix leaned back on the sofa, stunned. Why did Mrs. Dane want to meet him all of a sudden?
If he were being honest, he had thought of meeting her multiple times. Every time he folded his letters, he wondered what she looked like. He’d imagined her fingers (long and soft with a few callouses from her job at the shop) gracefully cutting open his letter. Though there was nothing in her letters to indicate that she was calm or graceful, he pictured a woman of more advanced years, someone closer to his age. In his head, she had dark hair (she’d mentioned it once), pillowy soft lips the color of peonies, and dark blue eyes that could look into one’s soul. He knew she thought herself opinionated but imagined she carried herself with an air of maturity.
The letters had tempted him to dig into her. For a veteran spy like him, it would have been easy to trace the address his letters went to. But he’d refrained, afraid of what he’d do if she was nothing like his imagination. What would he say to her when they met?
Mrs. Dane was a young widow, around thirty-five or thirty-six in human years. He was closer to fifty-five himself. What could a man like him offer a woman like her? She was still young and had no children. If she wished to marry again, she could. He didn’t want to tie her down. So, he’d chosen to not explore his curiosity. But her words swam before his eyes:
You’ve become someone important to me.
Did she have feelings for him? Did he? Felix shook his head. He knew she was far more than a friend to him. He thought a lot about her. But in the end, he’d always arrived at the same conclusion—they could be nothing more than friends.
So, when he dipped his quill in the ink pot to write back to her, his mind was made up. However, when the quill touched the parchment, what emerged wasn’t the politely worded refusal he’d rehearsed, but the longings of his heart.
Two
Amara
Amara really didn’t want to be here, but she only had herself to blame.
Standing in her boss’s office, she prepared herself for a long lecture. She smelled like Eucalyptus, thanks to the oil Mr. Garett had sent her for her spring allergies. If Felix noticed, he didn’t say anything.
Mr. Garett was considerate, going through the trouble of asking his colleagues and neighbors about remedies for spring allergies. He didn’t speak much about his work, but she always imagined him as a clerk or some such, peacefully whiling away his days in an office, talking to his colleagues about home remedies. It’d be nice to have a life like that. Her life, on the other hand, was filled with danger and intrigue, with the threat of exposure hanging around every corner. And she might’ve just dug her own grave.
“Amara.” Felix’s deep voice echoed in her bones. His lips pressed together in a frown. She had been working with him for five years, ever since Ifer had disappeared. He’d brought her to Inferno City and then to Sigilis, impressed by her work in Ifer’s case. “Tranagard tells me you took the liberty to move our target to prison. How did he put it,she dragged him through the city in front of the gawking masses? Do you know how dangerous that is? You were alone. He could’ve run away. Spies are supposed to protect their identities at all costs. Any number of people could’ve seen you. Do you know how many of our missions the exposure of your identity would compromise?”
Well, her day wasn’t starting out too well. The worst part was that everything he said was right. Three years ago, Amara would’ve never done something so stupid or reckless. But she was angry all the time these days. Ever since her mother’s death, she had become an unstable free radical, seconds away from a violent reaction. She wished she could read Mr. Garett’s calming words. They had helped her when she’d been at her lowest. “I’m sorry.”
“I told you to hand him over to the army,” Felix went on. “Amara, what did we say about following instructions?”
