I stared at him, unamused. A teasing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I tried to punch his shoulder, but he caught my fist in his hand and pressed it tightly against his chest. I opened my palm. Felt his heart go erratic.

“I think there’s only one explanation for that tattoo,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t think it matters at all.” He smiles as I raise my eyebrows. “Whether I have a love tattoo or I don’t is irrelevant. My path could split a thousand times, and I’d find you and love you on all of them.”

“Even if I can be infuriating sometimes?”

“Even then.”

I tipped my face up to his, and he kissed me until I felt like I was made of bubbles. Until I was so giddy, I couldn’t think straight.

And now, as we walk, I’m filled with wonder that finally we are in the same place at the same time with the same memories.

A gift of fate. Or finally, a series of good choices. Either way, I’m grateful.

We start across a bridge. On the far end, a couple stands, looking out over the water. They huddle close together, their fingers intertwined. The man says something that makes his partner throw her head back in laughter. He laughs too and then pulls her closer. She rests her cheek against his shoulder.

“Maybe that will be us twenty years from now,” Bram says. “Still in love enough to hold hands and take moonlit walks.”

The thought makes me feel as if I’m sipping a hot drink on a cold day. Warmth spreads through my center. As we get closer, the couple shifts, revealing a man standing on the other side of them. I stop walking.

“What’s wrong?” Bram asks.

But words fail me. I’m frozen in place.

Bram squints into the distance. “Is that …?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

It’s Latham.

Tears spring to my eyes, unbidden, and I try furiously to blink them away. Bram’s hand tightens around mine.

“We’ll go another way,” he says. But it’s too late. Latham has spotted me.

He nods politely to the couple as he maneuvers around them. They laugh as he exchanges some pleasantry I can’t hear. And then he comes toward us, smiling in a way that is entirely unfamiliar. It makes me feel unsettled and off-balance.

“Hello there. It’s Saskia, right?”

I don’t say anything. I spot the gold knot on the shoulder of his cloak that designates him as a member of the Grand Council. My tongue feels glued to the roof of my mouth.

“I’m Master Latham,” he says, holding out his hand. “We met briefly when I lectured at Ivory Hall earlier this year.” I wonder if the other paths left any imprint on him. If he has vague recollections of me he can’t quite place.