Every Door in This Castle Leads to You

How it begins

Jo Neri opened the pantry and found her former lover pruning a lemon tree.

Somewhere behind her, the breakfast bell rang with the confidence of a building that had never apologized for anything.

This would have been awkward even if the pantry had normally contained a garden. It contained, as recently as yesterday, twelve sacks of flour and a mouse she'd agreed not to mention.

Nabil Navarro looked up.

"You," he said.

"Apparently."

Behind him, morning sunlight warmed a stone wall. Behind Jo, rain struck the castle windows. The distance between the two places should have been forty-seven miles and an uncomfortable ferry crossing.

She shut the pantry door.

A cook carrying a bowl of eggs paused beside her. "Everything all right?"

"A structural issue."

"Will it affect breakfast?"

"Only if breakfast needs a lemon."

The cook considered this and continued down the corridor.

Jo waited until he was gone before trying the linen cupboard. Nabil stood on the other side, now holding the pruning shears slightly away from his body.

"Are you doing this?" he asked.

"No."

"You designed the castle."

"I designed most of it. This is not a feature I included."

He looked past her at the stacks of folded sheets. The garden breeze carried the smell of crushed leaves into a corridor that had always smelled faintly of damp wool.

For three years, Jo had avoided every road that might take her near him. Now the building appeared to be taking a personal interest in that decision.

Nabil put down the shears.

"You could have written."

There were several answers. None belonged in a linen cupboard.

"I know," she said.

A door opened at the far end of the corridor. Through it, impossibly, she could see the same garden from another angle.

The castle was being thorough.

Jo stepped away from the threshold, leaving both of them room to decide what happened next.