Leon places a steadying hand on my forearm. “You ready?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good,” he says, giving my arm a squeeze. “It means you’re doing this for the right reasons.”
Angela slides the cabin door open. A gust of cool, salt-tinged air rushes in, bringing with it the scent of damp earth and the distant, rhythmic bleating of sheep. Sato-san is out first, helping me step down onto the soft ground. My boots sink slightly into the Devon soil.
Across the narrow lane is the farmhouse Theo grew up in. It’s a quintessential English cottage built from cool gray stone. Weathered green shutters flank the windows on both floors. Ivy and pale-pink climbing roses spill across the porch as if they’ve claimed it for themselves. By the door, there’s a neat row of Wellington boots.
As I walk across the gravel, I see the curtains shift, and the front door opens with a soft creak. Theo’s nan stepsonto the porch. She’s small, maybe just a touch over five feet, but she carries herself with the same kind of authority as her grandson.
Her silver hair is swept into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. A few wisps frame a face lined with some laugh-worn creases. Her eyes are a warm hazel with flecks of green. Flour dusts the front of her pale-blue apron, and she holds a tea towel in one hand. “You must be Kaori,” she says.
“I am, ma’am,” I manage, startled she knows me at all.
Nan’s mouth curves fondly. “You made good time.” She glances at the helicopter behind us and lifts a brow. “I didn’t expect you to arrive inthat.”
She steps down off the porch with slow, steady movements. “My grandson arrived about fifteen minutes ago. He’s in the summer house. Tools, sawdust, and tinkering with that silly motorbike of his have always soothed him better than tea.”
She turns toward Leon, Angela, and Sato-san. “Welcome back, Leon, and...”
“I am Kenta Sato,” my security officer says, bowing crisply.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Angela, ma’am,” Alice’s officer adds with a polite nod.
“Well, then,” Nan says, gesturing toward the house. “You three come in and take a load off. I’ve just finished a sponge cake and the kettle’s on.”
Leon shoots me a final look of encouragement before following her inside.
Sato-san, however, lingers. “Your Highness,” he says quietly, his eyes already scanning the perimeter. “It is my duty to remain with you.”
“I know,” I reply gently. “But I’m just going to thegarden. You’ll still be able to see me from the kitchen window.”
He glances toward the house, already mapping sightlines, exits, and angles.
“I have my panic button,” I add, touching the inside of my coat. “If I need you, I’ll use it.”
A beat passes. Then he inclines his head. “Very well, ma’am. I will remain inside with a clear line of sight.” He follows the others into the house, taking a position near the window overlooking the back garden.
“Here goes nothing.” I follow the stone path, my stomach knotting tighter with every step. I push open a wrought-iron gate that groans softly on its hinges. Beyond it sits the summer house.
The door is wide open, and AC/DC’s “T.N.T.” is blasting loud enough to make the windowpanes rattle. There’s a sharp, acrid scent of burned flux and hot metal. Theo’s working. That’s a good sign.
I stop just shy of the door frame. Inside, Theo is hunched over a workbench, fully absorbed in the exposed engine block of a disassembled motorbike. His hair is a mess, shoved back by grease-streaked fingers. His dress shirt is ruined, oil-stained, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. An angry red scrape runs along his forearm.
I knock loudly on the wooden frame, but the music drowns it out. He doesn’t even look up. I step into the doorway, and the sight of my shadow causes Theo to jerk upright, startled. He flips off the soldering iron and lunges for the volume dial in one fluid motion.
“Nan, you know better than to sneak up on me like that,” he mutters, his back still to me as he wipes his hands on a grimy rag. “I told you, I’m fine. I just need a minute to?—”
Hegoes still as he finally turns. The rag slips slightly in his hand before he tightens his grip. His eyes open wide. “Kaori,” he whispers.
I stand in the doorway, suddenly unsure where to put my hands, my feet, my heart. “Hi.” I give a small, awkward wave. “I... I wanted to check on you.” My voice wobbles despite my best efforts to keep it level. “Your grandmother said you were back here and...” The rest of the sentence dies on my lips. There’s no way to finish it without feeling like I’m trespassing on his sanctuary.
Theo swallows hard and looks away, bracing one hand against the workbench. His shoulders tense. It’s the familiar reflex to shut down, to retreat inward.
I take the hint and back up a step. “I’m sorry.” I turn to leave, but in my haste, my boot catches on a raised bit of gravel. I stumble, my arms shooting out to steady myself.
