The Mist and the Lightning. Part VII

“Lay me as a seal on your heart, for love is strong as death.”

Chapter one

A little earlier…

       “So you can be congratulated?” Vitor Kors sat at his desk and twisted a gold pen in his fingers.

“Maybe it’s worth saying: “We can be congratulated”? – Ron Arwa hesitated, obviously not knowing what to say next, Vitor Kors seemed to congratulate him, but his face didn’t express any gratitude or joy.

“Well, we won’t drink champagne,” Kors grinned, “but I can offer coffee or tea.”

“Coffee if you can…”

* * *

“Won't you?” Ron Arwa was surprised when the servant brought only one cup on a tray.

“No. Go on, drink, drink, calm down. I just rarely drink coffee,” Vitor Kors tried to calm the investigator, seeing his embarrassment:

 “I don’t really like it, and Karina says that I don’t understand anything about it.”

“I don’t think so,” Ron Arwa shook his head and took a sip. “By the way, how is she doing? I haven't seen her for a long time.”

“Everything is fine.”

At the mention of his daughter, gloomy face of Vitor Kors lit up with some kind of inner light.

“You really love her,” remarked Ron Arwa.

“Her features… such lovely features, they remind me of…” Kors turned his gaze to the portrait on his desk, and with tenderness touched his fingers on the gilded frame. From the portrait, a fair-haired girl smiled at him serene.

“How much time has passed, Vitor…”

“It will be twenty-five years in the summer. Twenty-five years since I lost Iness,” Kors jerked his hand away, as if reluctantly returning himself to reality, again looked gloomily and tiredly at Wolf. He cringed under his heavy gaze, nearly choked on a sip of coffee. And playing it safe, he set the cup on the table.

“Clive Gabriel came to me yesterday,” Vitor Kors leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, “he asked for Karina's hand.”

“So… I can congratulate you?!”

“No. Not this way. Let her decide, I will not intervene.”

“And… do you think she will refuse him?”

Kors shrugged.

“I see, does this not upset you too much?” Ron Arwa remarked.

“I was only upset if she chose Prince Arel or one of his people. That would really upset me. Everything else islittle things.”

“Well, that’s unlikely,” Wolf thought for a second, remembering. “You should have seen his eyes…” he laughed briefly, apparently imagining Arel’s face again. “These are his painted eyes, and they have such a surprise in them: “What? No!” Ron tried to copy Arel’s expression and voice. “Damn, it was so funny!”