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***

The length of Archbishop Quiriaco's blessing was directly proportional to the substantial amount of money that Isabella had donated to the church. Inés kept her eyes closed throughout the duration of the expensive prayer, suppressing the urge to run to Anastasio and beg him to tell her something, anything.

She repeatedly told herself that there was no need to be so hasty, for Anastasio would live under his new identity as a priest for quite some time. Even if he had walked away from the corridor, he would remain a priest, and she could still reach him.

Therefore, all of her time and attention would be dedicated to Cárcel until he left Mendoza and set sail from the port. She couldn't afford to be distracted by anything else. Yet by the time the prayer neared its end, not a single word had sunk in -she had already gotten completely distracted.

Her head felt like a whirlwind. The vile words that Oscar had said on the balcony of the Barca Manor muddled her mind like an evil fog, making it impossible to focus on the prayer. Images flashed through her mind, punctuated by the memories of Anastasio from her past. Her thoughts refused to settle, even as the archbishop withdrew the hidden sword from Cárcel's staff and dipped it in holy water with a final prayer. After the conclusion of the ceremony, the archbishop and Isabella stepped aside to engage in a brief, casual conversation. However, Inés still felt like she was drowning on land.

She was only able to breathe again when she finally walked out into the corridor facing the central garden and took a great gulp of fresh air. Of course, Anastasio was no longer standing in the opposite corridor.

Strangely enough, she felt a rush of relief. Was it because the answer she sought from him was something she desperately needed yet wished to avoid at the same time? Perhaps.

Hazy, dream-like memories drifted to the surface of her mind. She recalled the moment of her first death and the way her body had rested on the bed in Calztela as if sinking into quicksand. Then Anastasio had entered her blurring vision, his face forever ingrained into her memory... She remembered the prayer she heard right before her life flickered out, a manor without Cárcel, and Arondra, who had been several years older than she currently was.

Perhaps she had simply wanted to beg Anastasio to stay away from her instead of pleading for an answer.

It was true that Cárcel now knew of the time she had spent as Oscar's wife, as well as how she had run away with an indigent painter. However, he was still oblivious to the terrible marriage they once had in another lifetime. He didn't know about the venomous words she had hurled at him with the sole purpose of ripping his heart apart.

The idea of Cárcel discovering that she had shamelessly returned from the dead to take over his life once again terrified her. Even worse was the thought of her traitorous mind obsessing over the marriage she had ruined until she couldn't even meet his eyes from the crushing guilt. Even now, she didn't feel like a decent human being. She was afraid that she would make another mistake, and that she would end up drowning in her fears.

She was like a thief, hovering around the one she had stolen from and fearing he would discover her lies. What a terrible thing it would be, to encounter a moment of happiness with him only to remember that she was being completely deceitful... It would be shameless indeed to feel any kind of happiness by his side after breaking his heart by telling him that she never wanted to have his child.

The only silver lining was that she had an excuse to offer. She couldn't give him the truth even if she wanted to, because she didn't recall much about "that" lifetime-it all seemed like an illusion to her. It was a flimsy excuse, but it was the least she could do for a man who had embraced her memories and past.

In the end, however, they were only foolish regrets. Her thoughts settled with sudden clarity when she realized just how idiotic her thoughts were. She knew exactly what she had to do: get an answer from Anastasio, even if she had to coerce him or cry at his feet. She had to do it for Cárcel.

It had been quite some time since she encountered Anastasio on Mercedes Street. And based on the memories of her past, she knew that he lingered in a lifetime for a certain amount of time, which meant Cárcel was still the only one who deserved her attention. She would try to pry an answer from Anastasio afterward, but even then, her sole motivation would be Cárcel.

As soon as she stepped out of the audience chamber, Juana approached and whispered to her, "His name is Father Nivardo. He's a priest of Micere, which is a small parish in Mendoza."

A priest handed the small blade to Isabella, still dripping with holy water. She carefully placed it back on the velvet bed inside the box, then paused when she heard Juana's words. Noticing her confusion, Inés quickly explained what had occurred on Mercedes Street.

Isabella's eyes widened. "So... Father Nivardo is the priest who helped you when you fell unconscious on that street?"

"Indeed. I thought I had caught a glimpse of him, so I asked Juana to find out his name, thinking I would make a donation to the church he belongs to," Inés explained, regretfully glancing at the blessed blade in the box. She had been feigning nonchalance ever since they exited the audience chamber, fearing that Isabella would worry for her. But now that she knew who Anastasio was as a "human," she regretted not listening to the archbishop's prayer.

"Well, you said he is currently in this archdiocese. I must personally give him my gratitude, since he offered his invaluable assistance during an emergency. In fact, I will make the donation as well," Isabella said with determination.

"There is no need for that," Inés replied hurriedly. "I can see that you are tired. It would be best if you returned to the manor-"

"No, no. You have no idea how worried I was when I heard you had collapsed on that busy street! Somebody could have stepped on you or even kicked you..."

"Really, there is no need. I will go to him some other day and repay him for his help, since I didn't know his name until now and was unable to thank him for a long time."

Inés reached out to Isabella to gently take the box from her, then slid the blade back into its brass scabbard. Her indifferent gaze studied the engraving as it disappeared along with the blade. "Dios y el viento están de nuestro lado," it read, meaning "the Lord and the wind will be on our side." It was the motto of the Ortegan Imperial Navy, and most buildings in Calztela displayed the phrase in one way or another.

She shut the lid softly and turned to her lady-in-waiting. "Juana. Locate the priest who guided us here and tell him that I will be visiting Micere for the next mass, and that I am sending this"-Inés removed the large ruby ring from her middle finger and handed it to Juana-"to Micere in advance as a donation. Come back to the carriage when you're done." She then held the box in one arm while gently supporting Isabella with the other. "Why don't we head to the carriage first and wait until Juana is finished?"

Although it was only early afternoon, Isabella was swaying with exhaustion. It made sense, since she had gotten up incredibly early to prepare for her meeting with the archbishop. If she had been Inés's younger sibling instead of her mother-in-law, she would have said something along the lines of "I told you so."

"I am perfectly fine, I promise," Isabella said unconvincingly.

"I believe you, Isabella. Now, let's get you back to the manor."

As they walked to the carriage, Isabella muttered, "As I mentioned yesterday... I'm more worried about Juan. He has never asked for help in his life, no matter how great his suffering. I imagine that's where Cárcel got it from..."

"I see. Did he call for his physician, by any chance?"

Isabella's lips curled in a brittle smile. "No, he said he didn't want any strange rumors to circulate. I told him that we could pretend the physician was for me, since I have not been feeling well... but he still refused."

"His Grace has always been quite careful."

"I understand why he might not want the household staff to know, but I think he may be hiding something from me as well," Isabella said thoughtfully. "It started the day after the exhibition, and I know it."

Inés silently recalled a memory from the distant past, when Duke Escalante had been found dead without any obvious cause.

"It was fate," Oscar had said. "Juan Escalante simply used up all of the time that was given to him." He had appeared so emotionless while discussing the duke's death that it was uncanny, especially considering how he had been so close to the duke as a child. Even Inés, who had been drinking herself into a stupor every day, had found it quite strange.

Back then, however, Juan had meant nothing to Inés -he was simply Cayetana's only brother and one of the many people Inés regarded with envy, disgust, and indifference simply because they were close to the empress. Furthermore, there was no need to drag Juan into the explanation of why Oscar had changed so much from his kind, gentle younger self. Everything could be explained with Inés-a woman who had been abruptly shoved down a pit of despair while naively walking down a path full of blossoming flowers.

In that lifetime, every single day had been a struggle to keep herself from slipping further down that dark pit. She only resented what she had gone through now because she had been too busy to peek over the edge of that pit, so much that she couldn't remember anything that could be of use to Cárcel.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. Oscar had spoken of fate "back then," just like he spoke of "the past" in her current lifetime... as if there was something else to be remembered further back in time.

A breeze fluttered through the hems of her dress. It was as if somebody had grabbed her by the shoulders to take control of her body. Her eyes drifted away from Isabella, who was climbing into the carriage, and focused on a window on one of the buildings she had just walked past.

An eerie memory trickled into her mind like a melting ice cube-something that she couldn't have seen with her own eyes. A drunken Oscar was clinging to Inés Valenza's arm and sobbing as she slept.

Rambling words spilled from his lips.

"It was his time to die for me, Inés. He was fated to perish in the future anyway... Surely, you understand, he has always been a mere shell of Juan Escalante. His 'true' self lived a long, peaceful life and died a long time ago, right when he was destined to... His world already ended, did it not? Please, Inés... please tell me that I didn't kill him..."

Inés stared at the window with wide eyes, feeling as if she had just stepped into a world filled with sunlight. Anastasio was no longer there. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the box containing Cárcel's staff.

God and the wind are on our side.

She found herself wondering, Is God truly on our side?