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“Good,” Killian said. “Now that everyone’s in sync, you’re free to leave, Shiv.”

“But what will you do?” I asked, reluctant to abandon him in a city he had no connection to. “Where will you go?”

Killian tried to grin, but his pain precluded him from getting much further than a slight tensing of lips. “I’m a survivor,” he said. “Thought you knew that about me. Now, either give me a nice, long kiss goodbye, or be on your way.”

“Goodbye, Killian,” I said, wondering if it might be the last. “And thank you. For what you did back there. Saving me from Arthur, I mean.”

Killian held my gaze, those swimming-pool eyes appearing deeper than I ever imagined they could be. Then, just as he turned away, I heard myself saying, “May the fates be with you.” Then I ran like the wind.

Fleeing Belvedere Castle that day felt like escaping a diminutive version of Gray Wolf. I raced through the park, dodged pedestrians on crowded avenues, darted through traffic as I crossed city blocks, until I finally stood before my dad’s building.

It looked different than it did back in 1998—it had lost some of its shine, but I knew I had the right place. And, as luck would have it, a food delivery person was exiting just as I arrived, since my dad forgot to give me the front entry key.

“Do you mind holding that?” I asked, motioning toward the door.

He gave me a skeptical look and for a handful of seconds it felt like my fate lay in the balance.

Then, with a casual shrug, he said, “Hurry up already, don’t got all day.” And I ran up the front steps and made my way in.

To my relief, the key to my dad’s apartment still worked. As I ventured inside, I was amazed to find it looked mostly the same, with the addition of several years’ worth of cobwebs and dust, of course.

I paused in the entry and bid my dad a silent thanks. “And don’t worry,” I added, speaking out loud, “I still intend to save you one day.”

Then I froze, my own words echoing back at me and giving me pause. I recalled what Braxton’s father had said about the dangers of trying to alter one’s fate.

But surely my case is different,I thought. Macbeth acted from hubris, and Arthur acted from his inability to reconcile the part he played in the loss of his family.

Whereas I’d be acting from…

From love. Pain. Grief.

Just like Arthur.

Two sides of the same spinning coin.

I shook away the thought, about to make my way to the safe when the door buzzer sounded. Knowing it was Braxton, I rushed to let him in.

He must’ve tackled the stairs with lightning speed, because when I opened the door, he was already there, waiting for me.

In an instant, he drew me into his arms. I pressed tightly to his chest, breathing in the scent of salt air, stormy seas, and a journey still unknown to me.

“We did it,” I said, loving him more than I ever thought possible. Loving him with a love that encompassed my whole heart, the entirety of my soul.

“There was a moment when I thought…” His words trailed off as his arms tightened around me. “But yeah, we really did it,” he whispered into my hair, my ear, the tender hollow at the base of my neck.

Just like the words he’d engraved on the circle of gold at my wrist, I knew we loved with an intensity that could move the sun and other stars.

This seemingly impossible bond that we share had managed to conquer the boundaries of time in order for us to find our way to each other.

Braxton is my miracle, and I am his.

As we crossed the threshold, Braxton’s foot swiftly kicked the door closed, sealing us away from the world. In that sanctuary of our making, he turned to me, his gaze alight with the unspoken emotions of our separation.

Without a word, he drew me closer, his hands framing my face with a tenderness that contrasted with the urgent need in those ocean-blue eyes.

Our gazes locked, a silent conversation of longing and relief passing between us before his lips finally found mine.

The kiss was a maelstrom of feelings, deep and fervent, as if we were trying to communicate every moment of absence, every second of yearning.