She opened her eyes very suddenly—to break the spell of the voice within. She thought she saw a man move out of the center of the labyrinth, when she’d believed she was alone. She shivered: someone had walked on her grave. She swung back to see him again, and caught only the movement of the flames, the lights. And then Alex’s gentle, rich voice was back in her head, comforting and calming. “ The truth is so; And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” She smiled. It was uncanny. She should be distilling her spiritual thoughts. The words—every single word from Will’s sheet—brought Alex back to her. They were fearful lovers; she could hear him whisper, and they appeared to have only a crack in time, like a cranny, to catch each other. With a missed step, one could fall irretrievably behind.

She faced the Great Rose Window now; and she could smell her own perfume drifting back into her face. It was another draft, and it made the flames bend back and forth. She felt the movement again of someone in the labyrinth, but it was a trick of the light, and it made her tremble slightly. She heard Alex’s voice soothing her, calming her down, helping her breaths to slow. Somehow he was there with her. He must be thinking about her, she decided. “The heart is a square too.” She stepped into the very center of the labyrinth, where there had once been a representation of Theseus, the guide had said. She felt something brush against her going the other way, and she held her skirt close to herself, suddenly worried by the candles. Then she relaxed. Again came a breeze, which wafted back at her the scent Alex had given her for Christmas, and she felt a physical warmth beside her, heard his voice right in her ear, as though he was standing immediately beside her. “And I am halfway through the orbit.” It was Alex’s voice, definitely.

Or was it? Her eyes had been lazy, half closed; and she opened them again. She sucked in a breath. Alex’s face rippled in the haze of light and rose-scented heat from the hundred candle flames. His face was not perfectly shaved—was actually quite stubbly. His hair was longer and even a little bit curlier than she had seen it that night on the boat—not nearly as pristine as he had been on her birthday. She realized it was only in her mind’s eye; but it appeared palpable. “Look no further than the day, My alpha and my omega.” The voice again. Kind, reassuring, rich, musical. “Make of these two halves a whole.”