Ch7. The One Who Couldn’t Leave Even with a Horse

Anna waited in her room for a while. She was not impatient, nor did she feel much of anything. She simply looked at the vase on the table, where Addie had replaced the flowers early that morning.

Anna picked up one of them. The stem had been cut at an angle, leaving the end slightly sharp. She traced it slowly along her forearm, passing over several faint red marks. As though imagining that the flower stem was something sharper.

A knife. Like the letter opener she had once had.

Only when someone knocked on the door and Addie’s voice came from outside did Anna’s thoughts finally return. “Addie, you’re back.”

She stood neatly and went to open the door. Addie came in smiling, lifting the basket slightly so Anna could see it. She was just about to say that she had brought everything back when her gaze fell on Anna’s arm. On those faint red marks.

Then on the diagonally cut stem of the flower still in Anna’s hand. The smile stayed on Addie’s face.

But the light in her eyes dimmed. She did not speak immediately. She placed the basket on the table with great care, as though setting down something fragile. Then she walked over to Anna and took the flower from her hand. Not snatching it.

Simply removing it in the most natural way possible, like taking away something that should never have been there. She placed the flower back into the vase.

Then turned slightly and said, in the calmest voice she could manage, “I bought them.” She began taking the pastries out of the basket. One by one. Placing them carefully onto a small plate.

There was a steadiness in the movement that she had spent many years learning.

The kind of steadiness that meant pressing the ache down somewhere deep and continuing with whatever was in front of her. But when she turned away, the corners of her eyes reddened faintly. She did not let Anna see. “I ran into someone too,” she said. Her tone was casual, as though mentioning something unimportant. She pushed the pastries a little closer to Anna.

“Would you like to guess who, miss?” Then she looked up at Anna.

There was a tenderness beneath the ordinary tone. Something quietly holding her up.

In her mind, Addie heard again what the man at the alley had said earlier that day.

Once you’ve seen someone standing on that tower, it’s difficult to pretend you never did. Addie thought: I have to tell her that today. Not because she wanted to tell a story.

But because somewhere in this world, there was someone who remembered that day.

Remembered that place. Remembered her lady. And he was still in the city. He had not left. Anna needed to know that.

Anna looked at the pastries Addie had pushed toward her. The corner of her mouth lifted. But there was very little smile in her eyes. Still, she was trying hard to make herself look normal again.

“Who?” She raised her head. The smile disappeared. Not because she wanted to dampen Addie’s mood.

She simply did not have the strength to think. Her mind felt like a forest swallowed by thick fog. Addie looked into that fog in Anna’s eyes and could not quite name what she felt. She sat beside her.

Did not hurry to answer. Only pushed the plate a little closer to Anna’s hand.

Then she spoke. “That man.” Her voice was light. “The one who went up the tower to find you.” She paused. Watched Anna’s face. “He’s still in the city.” “He hasn’t left.” Addie spoke the six words slowly. One at a time.

Like setting a stone gently into still water. Not knowing whether it would create ripples. But setting it down anyway. “I met him in the eastern district today.” “He came with me to buy the pastries.” Addie lowered her gaze to the plain little pastries on the plate. Her voice softened further. “He paid for half of them.” “He said…” She looked up.

Straight into Anna’s eyes. “If she likes them, bring a few more back.” Addie did not tell her the rest. She did not tell her:

I think you’ve fallen in love with our lady. Nor did she mention the way the tips of Jeffery’s ears had gone red.

Those things were too heavy.

Too much at once would only crush whatever was trying to rise. So she simply looked at Anna and left those small details where they were.

Waiting. Outside the window, a breeze lifted one corner of the curtain.

Light fell across the plate. Warming the pastries.

At the mention of that man, the fog in Anna’s mind seemed to thin slightly. Him. The man who still had her letter opener. “Him?” She blinked. Her reaction slightly delayed. “Why hasn’t he left?” “And how does he know I like these?” She looked down at the pastries. She had been the one who sent Addie to buy them.

Yet she still had no desire to eat. Addie noticed the fog in Anna’s eyes thinning. Quietly, she felt something inside herself loosen.

She picked up one pastry and placed it in Anna’s palm without drawing attention to the gesture. “He didn’t know,” Addie said calmly. “I told him.” She paused. “He asked how you had been these past few days.” “I told him you had asked me to come out and buy pastries today.” “So he said to bring a few more back.”

She did not explain why Jeffery had asked about Anna. She simply placed the facts between them exactly as they had happened. Let Anna feel for herself what might lie behind them.

The wind stirred again outside.

The curtain swayed softly. Addie turned her face slightly and looked at the untouched pastry in Anna’s hand. “As for why he hasn’t left…” She remembered the profile of the man in the alley. Those amber eyes looking toward the palace. And the words: Hard to say. “Miss.”

Addie lowered her voice. So light it was like a leaf settling on water. “Some people see something once and can’t simply walk away afterward.” She did not continue. Her gaze fell to the pastry in Anna’s hand. “Take a bite first.” Anna did not really understand what Addie meant. But she obediently took a bite.

The natural sweetness of the wheat spread through her mouth. For a moment, she felt a faint taste of being alive. “I…” Her voice was distant. “I don’t know if he ever told me his name.” “I forgot…”

She spoke without really knowing why she was saying it. Perhaps because she suddenly remembered that she had only met him twice. And had never properly remembered his name. Yet he remembered hers. “Did he say anything else…?” Addie watched Anna take that bite. Something inside her quietly settled. She did not answer immediately. Only watched Anna’s profile.

Watched the pale fog that had not entirely cleared. Watched the faint expression beneath it.

The expression of someone asking about him without realizing how much she cared about the answer. “Jeffery,” Addie said. “Jeffery Grant.” She said the name plainly. Without embellishment. As though returning something to its rightful owner.

Anna asked again whether he had said anything else.

Addie went through the conversation from earlier that day in her mind. Weighed the words. She did not speak immediately.

Instead, she reached over and gently drew Anna’s sleeve down over the faint red marks on her arm. No rebuke. No questions. Only covering them. Like an old, quiet gesture she had performed a hundred times in other forms. Then she said, “He said that once you’ve seen someone standing on that tower, it becomes difficult to pretend you never did.” Her voice was soft.

“Miss, the person he was talking about…” She looked at Anna. “Was you.” The room went quiet for a moment.

The light outside stretched both their shadows long across the floor. The sweetness of the pastries still lingered in the air.

Half a pastry remained in Anna’s hand. Addie said nothing more. Some things only needed to be spoken that far. Hearing Addie mention the tower—

that place no one cared about, yet the place where Anna had always felt closest to freedom—

she frowned slightly. “What was wrong with me standing there…?” She took another bite of the pastry and asked as though it meant nothing. Completely unaware of the concern hidden inside her own voice.

Addie did not answer immediately. She watched Anna’s profile as she bit into the pastry.

Watched the faint, unconscious concern in her eyes when she said, “What was wrong with it?”

Something in Addie softened again. This child. She does not even know when she cares. Addie stayed silent for two seconds.

Then her eyes curved slightly.

There was a hint of amusement in her voice now.

A kind that already knew the answer. “Do you want me to tell you the truth, miss?” She did not wait for Anna to respond. She lowered her head and pushed the final pastry on the plate a little closer to her.

Her voice became light. Private. Like something only the two of them were meant to hear. “He didn’t say there was anything wrong with you standing there.” Addie paused.

“He only said he couldn’t leave.” She did not look at Anna’s face. She merely adjusted the edge of the plate with her fingertips. Her tone airy. As though commenting on pleasant weather. “A man who wanders from place to place.” “A man who never stays anywhere for long.”

She lifted her eyes and looked at Anna. “And because of that, he couldn’t leave.” Anna had the vague sense that Addie kept trying to hint at something.

But she could not find the direction. She had never understood love between men and women. So naturally, her mind never went there. “He has a horse.” She blinked curiously.

“Why couldn’t he leave?” Addie heard: He has a horse. Why couldn’t he leave?

And remained silent for a full three seconds.

Then she turned her face away and lightly covered one corner of her mouth with her hand, pretending to straighten the dishes on the table. This child. She sighed inwardly.

The sigh held three parts heartache.

Three parts helplessness. And four parts something she could not quite name— the urge to laugh, mixed with the fear that laughing would be terribly unkind.

She cleared her throat. Turned back. Her expression had returned to normal. Only the slight curve at the corner of her eyes remained.

“Having a horse doesn’t mean someone can always leave,” she said calmly. “His legs can be perfectly fine.” “The road can still be open.” “And yet sometimes, a person still can’t go.”

“These things happen.”

“One day, miss, you’ll understand.” She explained no further. Then she heard Anna mutter quietly, “Why…?”

Addie stopped what she was doing. Turned her face. Looked at Anna’s unconscious little murmur. At the focus in her eyes that Anna herself had not noticed.

Addie said nothing.

She only let her eyes curve again. Then gently placed the last pastry into Anna’s palm. Her voice as soft as a feather. “Do you remember his name now?” Anna took the pastry Addie handed her again.

Without realizing it, she had already eaten several. “I remember.” She paused. Took another bite. Then spoke around it, her words slightly muffled. “And…” “I remember that he paid for half of these pastries.” Addie looked at the way Anna had unknowingly eaten so many.

Something inside her settled completely. She did not speak. Only watched. Anna said she remembered his name.

Remembered that he paid for half of the pastries. Her expression remained mild.

Her words half-muffled by food. She herself probably had no idea what she was revealing. But she remembered. She remembered Jeffery. Remembered the money. Remembered that he could not leave.

Like someone unconsciously gathering something into her arms. Completely unaware she was already holding it. Addie replayed the whole day in her mind. The sight of that man’s ears reddening.

The sight of this child chewing vaguely on pastries while remembering every tiny detail.

She lowered her head. Moved the mostly empty plate aside.

Then said casually, as though the thought had only just occurred to her,

“Then perhaps you should thank him?” She paused. “He’s still in the city.” Addie did not look up. She slowly tidied the things on the table. But this time, she did not bother hiding the curve of her mouth.

Anna patted the crumbs from her lips. Then froze at Addie’s question. “I…” In truth, she was slightly afraid to see him.

It felt as though he had caught hold of one of her most vulnerable secrets. And she, in turn, held one of his. As though neither keeping hold of it nor letting it go felt right.

She thought again of the conversation they had shared at the top of the tower. Perhaps the shortest conversation she had had in years. And yet the one that had reached deepest.

But still. It was only a simple: Thank you. What was so difficult about saying that? Perhaps once he heard it, he could finally get on his horse and go wherever he wanted.

She paused.

Then nodded lightly.

Said nothing more. “Mm.”

Addie heard the sound and did not say much either. She only lowered her head and gathered the last few crumbs on the plate with her fingertips.

The slight curve of her mouth remained.

Not deep. But steady. She knew what Anna was thinking. Say thank you. Then he could ride away. Go wherever he wished. Neat. Clean. Neither owing the other anything. Addie stood. Hooked the basket over her arm.

Walked to the window and adjusted the curtain so a little more light could enter.

Then she turned around. Her voice completely ordinary.

“Then tomorrow, I’ll send word for you.”

“I’ll tell him you want to see him.” She paused. Then added, “Outside the city gate.” “In broad daylight.” “Where guards come and go.” “You only need to say a few words and come back.” “No one will think anything of it.” She gave Anna very little room to hesitate.

Very little room to imagine. She made the entire thing sound small. Simple. No more significant than stepping outside for air. But when she turned away to continue tidying, she quietly let out a breath.

Anna had eaten a great many pastries today. That was enough. That night, Anna lay in bed. Her eyes stared at the ceiling.

The blanket slowly crept upward in her hands until it rested just beneath her nose. She was thinking about Jeffery.

She did not know why. She simply was.

She thought of the things he had said at the top of the tower.

The things he had told her about himself. He was the son of a witch.

That was the part she remembered most clearly.

Because in Losinitro, witchcraft and divination were forbidden.

A very long time ago—

so long ago that no one seemed to know exactly when—

anything connected to such things had been purged completely.

Even discussing them within the kingdom could be enough to have someone thrown into a dungeon. Or executed. The imperial bloodline passed down through the royal family believed that force was everything. That swords and blades were sacred.

To believe in things one could not see was foolish. To practice witchcraft or attempt to see into the future was cowardly. Shameful. And yet Jeffery had told her that he was the son of a witch. She did not believe for a moment that he knew nothing about Losinitro.

He was a wanderer.

A man who had travelled from place to place. Of course he knew. So what did that mean? She spent the entire night thinking about it.

Thinking.

Turning the question over again and again. Until, without realizing it, she finally sank into deep sleep.