Carcel looked at her. He looked at the woman standing stiffly in front of him, her chin held high, her eyes flashing with a cold fire he had never seen before. She was angry.
He felt a flicker of confusion. He had expected… well, he wasn't sure what he had expected. Tears, perhaps? Relief? A shy smile? But not this wall of ice.
He took a step closer, but he stopped when he saw her flinch.
"I sent several letters," Carcel said, his voice low and earnest. "But I never received a reply. Not one."
Ines blinked. The anger in her chest faltered, replaced by a sudden jolt of confusion.
Letters? she thought.
She thought of the basket of lavender. She thought of the box of lemon pastries. She thought of the volume of poetry.
Yes, there had been cards. Small, cream-colored cards tucked into the gifts.
"I look forward to our trip."
"These reminded me of you."
"Read this when you miss me."
