Shiralee and the man in the mirror locked their gazes for an endless moment. Yet no matter how long she stared, Shiralee still couldn’t read his fate.

After a minute or an hour or longer, the man was distracted by an elderly woman grasping his arm.

Shiralee sagged in her chair before the loom. What had just happened? She had never been unable to read anyone’s fate but her own. Why was this man different? And how had he seen Shiralee? None ever felt her gaze.

Did the man possess tower magic? Could he be Shiralee’s tardy apprentice? He seemed too old for that. She guessed the man was her age or thereabouts. He might outlive her but not by much.

Shiralee scowled and waved at the ceiling to deactivate the scrying mirrors. Staring blindly at the people flitting across her ceiling wouldn’t help her understand the man with no fate.

Shiralee stomped about her kitchen as she prepared a simple meal from her endless larder the Autumn Queen provided. For some reason, the man with no fate irked Shiralee. What was the point of weaving those endless tapestries if not everyone could be woven into the pattern?

Still disgruntled, Shiralee went straight to bed after dinner rather than reading or returning to her tapestry. She fell asleep swiftly, but chaotic dreams disturbed her sleep. She felt as if she had barely slept when she woke the following morning.

Shiralee stumbled through her breakfast then sat before her loom. When she waved at the ceiling to reactivate the mirrors, the man with no fate appeared.

Shiralee winced and immediately deactivated the mirrors. She didn’t want their gazes to lock again. Goddess knew how long they had stared at one another yesterday.

She glowered at her half-done tapestry. Yet if she avoided the scrying mirrors, she would never finish spring’s tapestry.

Shiralee cocked her head. Perhaps if she saw the man in person rather than through the scrying mirrors, she could read his fate. But to do that, she must leave the tower that had been her home and prison and sanctuary these many years. However, leaving the tower was impossible. No tower witch had managed to leave except through death.

Shiralee strode to the window and peered out at the lush valley. The ground was incredibly far away; deer appeared the size of mice, and trees appeared the size of flowers. Plus, the tower had no steps with outer walls too smooth for climbing even if she was strong enough to attempt it.

So how was Shiralee to escape the tower?

To be continued…