“I named him Leon, kind of after Yvain.” After I butchered the title in French, Gentry said it right. Le chevalier au lion.

“My lady, tell me true. Yvain, it thee liketh?”

“I haven’t finished it yet. And I know, it’s been a long time, but I’m kind of scared to, because I’m afraid Yvain’s going to get himself killed. He’s the nicest guy, but kind of a sucker, and he’s reckless.” As soon as I said it, I remembered I was talking about Gentry’s hero. “I mean, he’s noble and very brave, but I can’t do sad endings right now.”

“Nay, all is well. Sir Yvain liveth.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I really was relieved.

“And his lady wife forgiveth him. For one must have mercy on sinners, the story says. I fear thou wilt not forgive me, for I shall not return ere a year and a day.”

I wasn’t sure what he was asking me for. Forgiveness? To wait for him?

“Since it’s my fault you’re here, I totally forgive you,” I said.

“Dame Rosalinda writ me that thou carried her to Bryn Carreg. ’Twas kind of thee to go in my stead. She said ye two scattered Sir Edrard’s ashes upon the northern hill.”

“Yeah. Better cell reception up there.” I was a jackass for making the joke, but I was shitty at serious conversations, and we’d gotten to the serious stuff so fast.

I opened the envelope again and took out the other thing I’d brought. I hadn’t been able to figure out how to print a panoramic picture, so I ended up with three pictures taped together. I unfolded them before I laid it out on the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at Gentry looking at the view from his tower. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, either, because him sitting there looking at the picture without saying anything was killing me.

“I don’t know if they’ll let you keep this, because I know they have rules about how many photos you can have, and this is really three instead of one. I’ll try and figure out how to get it printed on one piece of paper.” He still hadn’t said anything so I kept talking. “I didn’t think it would be so pretty in the fall, but the leaves—the trees with the bright orange leaves, I don’t know what they are, but they’re beautiful.”

“They aren sugar maples,” he said, sounding kind of soft but not sad. I glanced at him, but he was still looking at the picture. “When I return, I shall tap them for syrup. And sledge more stones for the tower. I would most earnestly thank thee, my lady, for I know ’tis by thine hand Bryn Carreg was saved.”

“Oh. They weren’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Brother Trang cannot be trusted with a secret, and God’s blessing upon him, for I am glad to know. It giveth me hope.”

I imagined he needed hope, because he’d had his whole life planned out, and I’d ruined it. We were quiet for a while, and I caught myself doing what I’d done as a kid, what Marcus did, watching the clock, like my visit was an hour-long prison sentence.

“But thou hast not said how thou farest, and ’tis a matter dear to my heart. Art thou well, my lady?”

I didn’t mean to cry. My father always got so mad and accused my mother of manipulating him when she cried. At least Gentry didn’t do that. I knew it was bad, that I had completely lost my shit, because a woman at the next table came over and handed me a little package of tissues.

“Girl, you gotta get that all out at home,” she said. “Your man don’t need to see that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said to Gentry. “I can’t ever make this up to you.”

I forced myself to stop crying, because it was selfish.

Gentry waited until I got myself under control again, before he said, “My lady, thou needst not stay if it giveth thee pain. I know ’tis a long journey.”

“It’s not by wagon, Sir Gentry. And I don’t have to drive the whole way back today. I’ll spend the night at Uncle Alva’s. Turns out he doesn’t have lung cancer like he thought. It’s emphysema, so he’s not going to die anytime soon.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “But methinks it paineth thee to come to this place. Thou owest me no debt, for ’twas my honor to serve thee. I would that I were thy champion still.”

“Aren’t you? I thought you were always going to be my champion.” I wished I hadn’t said it, because it seemed like I was asking for something impossible.

“Thou hast not a new champion, my lady?”

“I don’t need a new one. Didn’t I swear no matter what happened, I wouldn’t send you away?”

“Yea, thou made such an oath, but I hold thee under no obligation.”

“I wanted—I want to come see you,” I said. “It’s stupid, but I had this idea that I’d come and see you and you’d hold my hand. Or something. I don’t know. I’m not any good at this.”

“Thou offered me not thine hand.”

His hands were still on the table. One palm down, one in a fist, so they were like rock and paper, missing scissors.

Both my hands were tucked under my thighs, pressed between my legs and the metal bench. I’d put them there like I was trying to keep them safe. I pulled them out and wiped them down the front of my jeans. When I plopped them down on the table in front of me, they were red, and the palms were waffled from the patterns in the bench.

Gentry unclenched his sword hand and reached across to put it on top of my left hand. Then he lifted it up and put his other hand underneath mine. It didn’t look or feel like any other time I’d held hands across a table. He squeezed his together, like he was making mine into a sandwich. Then like he’d just invented holding hands, he ran his thumb along the webbing of my thumb. We didn’t talk for a long time. I didn’t know what to say, and he was staring over my head, maybe having a conversation with someone else. The Witch?

He nodded and then he looked at me. My hair, my mouth, our hands together on the table.

“Lady Zhorzha,” he said. “This be how a tower is built. Lay first the foundation stone. Then upon it, lay the next stone. Up and up, one stone, then another, til thou hast built a tower to keep thee and thine safe.”

He meant for our hands to be like the tower’s stones, and my right hand was the only one not on the pile. I laid it on top, so that all our hands were stacked together.

“It’s not a very tall tower,” I said.

“This tower shall keep out a foe that is broad but not high.”

I laughed, because I felt like I was in danger of more crying, which wouldn’t make either of us feel better. I squeezed his hand between mine and he squeezed back.