Shiralee gaped at the man with no fate. “You’ve been having visions of me?”

The man crossed his arms over his chest. “It started six months ago. I was helping Ma clear her garden. Then it happened again the next day. I’ve no visions since then, but every night I’ve dreamt of you traveling across Calatini.”

Wordless, Shiralee continued staring at him. He’d seen her each time she’d seen him in the tower’s scrying mirrors. Then he dreamt of her journey to find him. They must be connected, but she’d never seen such a thing in all her years as the tower witch.

Shiralee and the fateless man stared at one another until two miners burst into the tavern.

The taller man with the same sandy-blond hair and brown eyes as the fateless man shouted, “Hey, cuz! Stop ogling the wench and fetch us ales.”

The fateless man jerked to the tap and drew two ales. He slammed them on the table before the two miners. “Don’t be a boor.”

His cousin snickered. “Don’t ogle then. Who’s the wench?”

The fateless man turned back to Shiralee. “I’ve no idea.”

Shiralee drifted toward him as if lured by a siren. “I’m Shiralee. I am…was the tower witch.”

“I’m Brock.” He cocked his head with a frown. “What’s the tower witch?”

Shiralee shrugged. “A witch blessed by the Goddess with the ability to read people’s fates. In an impossibly high tower in Oakmoor, she weaves everyone’s fate into massive tapestries for the Goddess.” Which she’d not done since first spying Brock.

Brock rubbed his chin. “Why would the Goddess need that?”

Drifting close enough her skirts almost touched his legs, Shiralee shrugged again. “I don’t know exactly. My mentor told me the Goddess needed it to track and tally her worshippers. But the Goddess didn’t stop me from abandoning the tower six months ago to find you.”

Brock’s cousin snorted into his ale. “Sounds like hogwash to me.”

Brock slashed him a glare. “Hold your tongue or leave, Aaron.” Once his cousin scowled and resumed drinking his ale, he turned back to Shiralee. His tone was soft when he asked, “Why did you come to find me?”

Tingling heat flooding her, Shiralee placed her hand over his heart. “I had to as soon as I saw you in the scrying mirrors. I had to know why I couldn’t read your fate.”

Brock laid his hand over hers. “Do you know why now?”

Shiralee nodded. “I do.” She peeked at him through her lashes. “‘Tis because our fates are intertwined. I can’t read my own fate, you see.”

Brock’s heart quickened beneath her palm. “Ma always said foresight ran in the family. Maybe that’s why I dreamt of you.”

Shiralee smiled up at him. “Does it matter?”

Brock chuckled. “Not in the least.” He bent his head and kissed her.

Ignoring the whistles from his cousin and the other miner, Shiralee wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. After many, many years alone in the tower reading everyone else’s fates, ’twas glorious to find hers at last.

---

Back in the impossibly high tower, the new tower witch smiled as she wove the previous tower witch’s fate into the final threads of summer’s tapestry. A fitting end to the season of passion and courtship.

The End