When the mourners arrived at the palace, Theseus led them to an apartment where Antheia awaited their arrival.
He greeted her with a tender kiss on the forehead, then took his place at the head of the table, with his sister seated at his right hand.
Clad in deep mourning and unusually pale, Antheia's appearance stirred a quiet awe among those present. They could not see the storm churning beneath her calm, sorrowful exterior. But Dr. Orion, who knew her better than anyone—even more than her own brother—noticed the occasional wild flash in her eyes, the trembling of her lips, and the strained composure of her manner. All signs of the inner turmoil she was struggling to contain.
To Theseus's left sat the notary-general, one of the chief mourners. He was a short, thin man of middle age, with a pale complexion, sharp features, and twinkling gray eyes. In front of him lay a sealed packet. Antheia's gaze returned to it again and again, her impatience barely restrained—though only Dr. Orion seemed to understand its intensity. He was seated opposite her, beside the notary-general.
Also present were Father Edmond and a few close family friends who had attended the funeral.
After Father Edmond offered a brief prayer, in keeping with custom, the notary-general carefully broke the seals on the packet and drew out a parchment filled with tightly written script.
Antheia leaned her right arm on the table and half-buried her face in a snow-white cambric handkerchief.
The notary-general began to read the will.
After announcing a few minor legacies—one to Dr. Orion and another to Sir Marius—the will stated that the late Lord Andrea's estates were to be held in trust by the notary-general and the physician for the benefit of Theseus. He would receive only the revenue from the estates until he reached the age of thirty, at which point full ownership would pass to him.
But there was a crucial condition: if Lady Antheia, by medical means or divine intervention, regained her hearing and speech before Theseus turned thirty, then the entire estate—except for a small holding in northern Lumea—would immediately pass to her. However, she would not be permitted to sell or transfer the property.
Therefore, if Antheia gained possession of the estate, she would become Duchess Aurel of Blackmere—and Theseus would lose his title.
At the time of the reading, Theseus was tewnty—meaning ten more years would pass before he could fully claim the estate.
The contents of the will shocked everyone present, except for the notary-general, who had drafted it, and Father Edmond, who, though bound by confessional secrecy, had been privy to its terms.
Theseus himself was stunned—and, in some ways, wounded. The will implied that had his sister not been afflicted as she was, the entire inheritance would have gone to her, leaving him with only a small share. The realization struck him deeply: even in death, his father's heart had not softened toward his son.
Yet, despite his sorrow, Theseus felt glad that such generous consideration had been shown to his beloved sister. Once he collected himself, he asked the notary-general to allow Antheia to read the will for herself, adding with quiet sadness, "For all your excellency has read is, alas, of no use to her."
Sir Marius handed him the document, and Theseus gently touched Antheia's shoulder, placing the parchment before her.
She started violently, lifting her face from her handkerchief. Her pallor was so ghostly that Theseus recoiled in alarm.
But he quickly realized the absurdity of having the will read aloud to someone who could neither hear nor speak. Pressing her hand gently, he gestured for her to read it herself.
She turned to the document mechanically. But before her eyes—now shining with a feverish, otherworldly brilliance—fell upon the text, she cast a sudden, anguished glance at Dr. Orion, whose cheeks were streaked with silent tears.
Moments later, she appeared entirely absorbed in the will. A hush fell over the room.
Then, without warning, she flung the parchment back toward the notary-general and hastily scrawled a few words on a slip of paper:
"Should medical skill or Heaven's mercy restore my hearing and speech, I will renounce all claim to the Blackmere estate and title in favor of my dear brother Theseus."
She handed it to the notary-general, who read it aloud.
Theseus looked at his sister with profound gratitude and love—but shook his head firmly, signaling that he could not accept such a gift, even if fate allowed her to make it.
She met his gaze with one of frustration, her eyes crying out what her lips could not: "Oh, if only I could speak—just once—to tell you what's in my heart!"
The notary-general, meanwhile, scribbled a brief note beneath Antheia's message and returned the slip to her.
She read:
"Your ladyship has no power to alienate the estates, should they come into your possession."
Antheia broke into sobs and rushed from the room.
Theseus followed at once, hoping to comfort her. The remaining guests quietly departed, each to their own home.
But of all those present at the reading of the will, none left with a heavier heart than Dr. Orion.