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“Thank you, sir.”
She walked out, a smile on her face. Who knew a meeting with her superior would turn out so well? Felix was the reason she hadn’t learned to rein her temper in. He was too understanding, too lenient. In fact, it was a miracle she’d held onto her job for this long, even though she had no regard for authority. Still, she enjoyed working for him. He made her comfortable, without making her feel inferior or unimportant. When he’d asked her to move from Cadia to Sigilis, she’d taken up the posting gladly. The three years that followed had been great learning.
As Amara crossed the threshold and stepped into the spring air, the sunlight strummed down on her face. A light breeze passed by her, making her sneeze. Looked like the eucalyptus oil hadn’t worked either. She’d have to write to Mr. Garrett about that.
Amara’s house was fifteen minutes from the Sapphire Serpents headquarters. It was a one-bedroom space over a florist’s shop.
On her way home, she passed by several couples. Love was in the air. A couple kissed passionately across the street. Amara turned her face away, her heart thudding. Thanks to the nature of her job, most of her relationships had been short-lived affairs. She was always moving about, pretending to be someone else, so much so that being herself in a relationship had become a challenge. After her mother’s death, she wanted someone to talk to. The only person she could talk to was Mr. Garett. While she enjoyed their letters immensely, she sometimes craved human touch. Amara was a sensual creature, and she needed more than words. She needed to release all her emotions somewhere. Sexually, if possible. She wanted someone who’d make her forget the painful monotony of her existence. However, it wasn’t easy to find willing partners when one had the social grace of a porcupine. After a series of short-lived flings, the last of which was with an enemy spy, she gave up.
Rounding the corner near her house, she eyed the mailbox outside the florist’s shop. That’s where she received her letters. Mr. Garett’s letter would’ve arrived by now. She opened it and was relieved to find a letter addressed to her in Mr. Garett’s neat handwriting. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Clutching it tightly, she hurried upstairs, eager to read what he’d written.
As soon as she was in the door, she reached for her paper knife and cut it open. Unfolding the paper, she breathed in the scent of parchment. Heart thudding, her eyes scanned the page for the answer to her question.
Dear Mrs. Dane,
I was surprised by the contents of your last letter. As we are friends who have always been honest with each other, here are my thoughts on your unusual request: There are so many reasons a meeting would be a bad idea. Our relationship, and the comfort it provides to both of us, thrives on secrecy. Over the last three years, that is what I have told myself. These weekly mails are an important part of my life, so much so that I don’t know where I’d be if you stopped writing. I dread going back to filling the hours with memories instead of hopes. Your company has not only given me solace in my hour of loneliness but also helped me heal from grief. For that, I am eternally grateful.
That being said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about you. I’ve often wondered what you look like. I confess to tailing more than one stranger in the hopes that it might be you. Though I relish the confidentiality of our relationship, it is perhaps time to meet.
Here is my answer: I would like to meet you too.
I have heard a lot of good things about the tea rooms at the corner of royal street. Why don’t we meet there this Sunday at four in the afternoon? I know you said you had Sundays off. I will be wearing a blue shirt and carrying your letters. I hope you’ll carry mine too.
Yours faithfully,
Mr. Garrett
Amara sank to the floor, letter in hand. She breathed in and out, tucking her head into her knees. Stony silence filled the room.
“He…wants to meet me…” Relief swept her body.
All week, she’d expected Mr. Garett to reject her. Had she been too forward in asking him to meet? For all she knew, he was a murderer. Even if he wasn’t, he’d be expecting an old widow, not a young spy. He’d told her he had a son as old as her. There were so many reasons Amara should’ve stayed invisible and kept this relationship on paper only. But she’d never been good at keeping her head down. She always wanted more from life. More than life could give.
But as always, Mr. Garett had exceeded her expectations. Perhaps that’s why she liked him—he always knew what to say to make her feel better. A smile lifted Amara’s lip. She read the letter again and again, affirming that he had indeed agreed to meet her. At the end of the third read, she looked up. Her entire body felt lighter than it had minutes before. She’d thrown her heart to a stranger, and he’d caught it.
She stood up and moved to the kitchen with a spring in her step. Maybe everything would be all right.
Sunday couldn’t arrive soon enough.
Three
Felix
It was the day of their meeting.
Dressed in a light blue shirt and black trousers, Felix sat at the window of the Royal Tea Rooms. The cup of tea before him had gone cold. He’d arrived at the tea house two hours before the designated meeting time. It was just like him to plan things in advance. He checked the grandfather clock next to the counter. It was lunch time so the place was relatively empty. They’d start filling up once tea time came around. Felix glanced at the clock and sighed. Another hour to go.
“Do you need another pot of tea?” A server dropped by, eyeing him curiously.
“Yes, thank you,” he said, worried he might get shooed out if he didn’t order more food. The waiter left with a smile.
Felix remembered the missive that had been delivered last morning. Trangard had brought news of a spying mission involving a smuggling ring at the border. According to his spy’s report, the ring leader, Sazan, and his wife were visiting Inferno City to meet an old man who ran an orphanage. Sazan’s wife had lost her daughter when she was ten and the man said he knew her whereabouts. They had engineered a meeting the following week to reunite mother and daughter.
All that was left to do was to find a way to intercept the meeting. His spies had caught the orphanage keeper, who had confessed to lying. The girl he had in mind had run away, putting him in a difficult position. Felix had come up with an idea for an undercover mission on short notice.
He would pose as the keeper of the orphanage. They needed a girl who looked around twenty-eight in human years to pose as the daughter. The only woman they had who was suitable for the job was Amara. She’d be up for it on short notice. She was always up for more work, one of the things he liked about her.
A bell chimed as the door opened. Immediately, Felix’s eyes went to it. Even though he knew Mrs. Dane wouldn’t arrive so early, he’d developed a habit of looking over his shoulder, expecting to find her. A woman materialized at the door. She wore a full-sleeved black blouse with a long black skirt, moving through the shop like a shadow. A hat partially covered her face, but he observed the smooth curves of her body. She was short with dark brown hair collected in a low bun. Her skin was slightly tanned, and curly hair escaped from her bun. She walked past him, scanning various tables, studying the objects on them. He noticed that she was carrying a stack of letters held together by a string of red yarn. At once, he remembered a letter Mrs. Dane had written to him long ago.
