And, at that familiar sight, Royce had no choice.
He bent his head to kiss her.
* * * * *
Esmeralda Crane rushed out of her cottage on her way to Lacybourne and was nearly so attuned to her task of saving the doomed lovers that she missed the change in the atmosphere.
Then she saw it.
It was not just golden but thick as stew.
She felt a timid hope spring into her heart and she quickened her step, clutching the potion to her.
* * * * *
In the present time, in the library, at Lacybourne…
* * * * *
Idly, Marian pulled the volume out of the shelf as she heard Phoebe ask distractedly, “What could have happened to them?”
Marian thought about what she hoped had happened to Colin and Sibyl, that they were breaking the curse. Which, considering Colin’s reputation, might take awhile. She turned the pages, leafing through the book as the guests chattered and the children played.
“I cannot imagine,” Mags answered Phoebe, enunciating every word playfully.
Marian’s eyes skimmed down the book. She hadn’t seen it in years and she had no idea what drew her to pulling it from the shelf. She had mostly memorised it, of course, but…
Her eyes stopped dead on some words on the page and her body got tight.
A date.
A date nearly five hundred years before.
How could she have forgotten?
And then her eyes widened when she saw all the words after the date had become misty and unreadable. As if, even though they were meant to tell the story of long-dead lovers, they had not yet been written. As if they were waiting to form, waiting for the story to unfold, a story that should have been forged with time.
A story that clearly was not.
A thrill ran up her spine, her head jerked up and she asked a question to which she already knew the answer. “What’s today’s date?”
She said it too loudly and with too much alarm. Several pairs of eyes swivelled to her and several mouths gave her the information she sought.
Marian snapped the book shut and strode purposefully toward Mags.
And when she made it to the other woman, she announced gravely, “Marguerite. It’s time.”
* * * * *
In the wood, the man shifted through the leaves, trying to be quiet and definitely being watchful.
No matter how quiet or watchful he was, he would never have heard or seen the spectre drifting behind him.
However, he did feel, for a brief, painful moment, the blow that struck him on the head.
The man collapsed, unconscious, to the ground.
The spectre drifted away.