Michael Sullivan - The Crown Tower

“Explain, please.”

Gwen frowned. “On her deathbed, my mother made me promise to come here … to Medford. And I received those gold coins from someone telling me the same thing. That’s why I was given the money. To help … him .”

“To help who?”

“Him.”

Rose shook her head, frustrated. “Make sense, will you?”

“I can’t, because it doesn’t. I don’t know why I was supposed to come to Medford. I don’t know who this man is-or anything about him. I just know that I have to be here when he arrives. I have to help him and…”

“And what?”

Gwen tilted her head down, hiding her eyes.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just been waiting so long, thinking about him, you know? Wondering what he might be like. Who he really is, what he looks like. Why I have to be the one.”

“Are you saying you’ve fallen for a man you’ve never met?”

“Maybe.”

“But that’s okay because you’re supposed to, right? The two of you are meant for each other, yes?”

She shrugged. “No one said anything about that. It’s just what I want to believe. He could be married for all I know.”

“Did they at least give you a name?”

She shook her head with an awkward smile. “I’m ruining my reputation with you, aren’t I?”

“Are you kidding? You can do magic and have a mysterious destiny. I want to be you.”

Gwen smiled self-consciously. “Everyone has a destiny.”

Rose looked at her hand, then thrust it out. “What’s mine?”

Gwen stared a moment. “You’re not afraid? Even after seeing what happened with Stane?”

“I said I wasn’t afraid of you, didn’t I? And this proves it. Go ahead, look into my future. Maybe I have a mysterious stranger coming my way too. Only don’t tell me about my death. I think I’d rather not know, okay?”

Gwen sighed. “All right, let’s take a look.”

Rose watched as Gwen opened her fingers and spread out the skin of her palm.

“This is interesting. You are going to fall in love. He’s handsome, too, a kind face. You’re going to fall in love and-” The tight grip she held on Rose’s hand relaxed and while she continued to stare at her palm, Rose could tell she wasn’t focusing on it. Her sight shifted to the decking of the porch.

“With who? Who will I fall in love with? Do you know his name?”

Gwen let go of her hand and reached for her tea. She lost control of the saucer and the beautiful porcelain cup slipped, fell, and shattered.

Gwen gasped as she stared at the broken shards of pure white scattered on the porch. “I’m so sorry.” When she looked up at Rose, there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so very sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rose offered. “We can get another one.”

Gwen hugged her. Not like before, not like when Stane left. This time she squeezed as if Rose was all that kept her from being sucked away in the storm. She continued to cry, repeating, “I’m so sorry.”

Dawn rose gray over Lake Morgan. Only the lap of water and the honk of geese broke the stillness that, with the rising sun, had replaced the roar of rain. Drifting in the river, the showers made it hard for Royce to see. The splashing surface threw water, making him blink. Most of the time he left his eyes closed. At least he didn’t need to worry about being soaked. They couldn’t get any wetter. He and Hadrian had drifted the remainder of the night, clinging to the box like rats as behind them the peal of bells faded. Both had fallen asleep or passed out-it was hard to tell which. The river had ushered them along at a fine pace, but with the morning light they and their box bobbed in still water amidst a silent world of mist.

“You alive?” Hadrian asked.

“If I were dead, I don’t think there’d be geese.” Royce tilted his head up to catch the arrow of birds heading south. “But maybe they’re evil geese.”

“Evil geese?”

“We have no idea what goes on in the water fowl world. They might have been a gang that stole eggs or something.”

“I’m guessing you have a fever.” Hadrian looked around, and when he spoke he sounded both surprised and happy. “This is Lake Morgan. That tavern we were in is along this bank somewhere.”

“It’s right there.” Royce pointed to the cluster of buildings to their left. The slight movement jolted him with pain.

“All I see is a hazy clump,” Hadrian said, squinting.

“Remind me when we get back and I’ll see if Arcadius will lend you his spectacles. And we can’t go to the tavern, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Dougan will help us.”

“Did you hear the bells last night? The roads will be filled with soldiers, and they’ll be swarming that tavern.”

“We could go to Lord Marbury’s home. He invited me last time. He’d help us. He hates the church.”

“Where’s Marbury’s home?”

“I don’t know … but Dougan would.”

“We can’t go to the tavern.”

“Only for a minute. We just need to ask. Besides, no one will be there at this hour.”

“You’re being stupid again.”

“Like I was when I came back for you? Like when I hauled you down the rope, and when I insisted we jump in the river?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“We need to get dry. I need to wrap your wounds better.”

“Is that your belt squeezing the life out of me?”

“You wouldn’t have lived the night without it.”

“I can barely breathe.”

“Better than bleeding to death.”

Hadrian’s shoulders were covered only by his wool shirt.

“Your cloak?”

“Part of it,” Hadrian replied. “Hey, if we’re going to survive, we need food, dry clothes, and proper bandaging. So we’re going to the tavern, unless you know someplace else we can get those things?”

“Normally I’d steal them, but normally I can walk.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I like being able to walk.”

“Okay, just hang on.” Hadrian began to swim, jerking the box, dragging Royce. Each pull sent bolts of pain through Royce’s stomach. He was thankful for the buoyancy. He let himself hang limp and felt his legs drag and sway as Hadrian splashed and panted.

The village looked dead. The only sounds came from a barnyard where sheep bleated and a goat’s bell clanked with a lonely sound. Hadrian crawled out of the lake along a rocky beach across the street from the tavern. It was daylight, they were in the open, across the way from the village common, and they were conspicuous. Anyone looking from a window, alley, or distant hill would notice them.

“I don’t think I can carry you,” Hadrian said. “So I hope you can walk with some help.” He unhooked the harness that had tied them together and slowly lifted Royce to his feet. The water had been cold, but as soon as he was out of it, the air hit him with a gut-wrenching blast that cut like ice. He shivered, sending dizzying stabs of pain through his body. His head grew hazy again. The darkness crept in, but he managed to hang on to both Hadrian and consciousness. He had little strength in his legs. They refused to work properly so that his toes often dragged. Almost all his weight was on Hadrian, who favored his own left leg as together they scraped across the gravel road toward the door of the pub.

Hadrian pushed on it. “Damn it. Locked.”

“Push me up against the door, and I’ll fix that.”

“No, we’re not breaking in. We’re looking for help.” Hadrian pounded on the wood, his fist making a soft muffled sound. They waited with Hadrian propping Royce against the doorframe. He pounded again. Behind them came the lonesome call of a loon. Hadrian turned to look out at the lake. “I hear they have good fishing.”