They said nothing else until they’d reached the seawall and climbed the stairs down to the rocky shore. How strange to think that less than a month ago, they’d met here in the dark and their lives had changed for a second time.

Only a moon’s turn since they’d reunited? Impossible. It seemed she and Madeleine had been bound to one another since the creation of the world, whoever had done that.

As they reached the shore, Hæra felt herself grow stronger. Here, she’d be able to pick up four Madeleines if she wanted to. Not that she’d get the chance. There could never be another Madeleine.

Today, others were on the beach. Not close: a man and woman standing by the water in brightly colored jackets—tourists, probably. Farther down the beach, a bearded old man walked by himself, his hands in his coat pockets. His shuffling steps reminded Hæra of how Jonathan used to be.

To the left, Jorsay’s cliffs loomed in jagged layers of sandstone with moss-covered outcroppings. Slippery rocks rose from the ocean floor above the water’s surface. They were like the cliffs and rocks Hæra had hidden behind when she’d eavesdropped on Madeleine talking to that juvenile, Ava, about what it was like to be a nun. The sound had carried clearly to her, Madeleine’s voice enchanting her as surely as any witch’s spell. It seemed so long ago.

“What happened in the Sunrise Café?” she asked.

Madeleine looked at her, wide-eyed.

“There was a man inside who watched you,” Hæra clarified. “I think he recognized you. He looked upset.”

Madeleine groaned and hid her hands in her face.

Hæra’s breath caught. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Madeleine mumbled into her palms. “I hurt him, I think. And I hurt myself too.”

“What?”

Madeleine lowered her hands and told Hæra of the day she’d arrived, when she’d ordered food at the Sunrise Café and reacted poorly to learning that the owners were gay men. She spoke of her panic, followed quickly by humiliation and regret.

“I know what they thought of me,” she said. “I haven’t been able to face going back.” She snorted. “Even though that sausage roll was amazing.”

“What do you mean, what they thought of you?”

“That I’m a homophobe. You know that word? Someone who hates gay people. That’s what they thought I was.” Madeleine seized the top of her zip, which was already pulled up to her chin. “They were right.”

The back of Hæra’s neck prickled. The word “gay” felt heavy, significant to the moment. Madeleine hadn’t used it since their passionate encounter in the alley. Hæra had figured it was just part of her desire for them not to become sexually intimate in general, but it had to be more than that, if using it made her look so miserable.