“My running shoes.” She pulled her shoulders back and stood up straighter, daring him to argue with her about it.
He sighed heavily. “Nothing else? No electronics of any kind?”
“No.”
Merlin chuckled and shook his head as he resumed walking. “Very well. But you must promise me you’ll be careful to keep them concealed from anyone but those of us who know your situation.”
This time, it was Vera who stopped in her tracks. “Other people know? Who all knows?” It hadn’t occurred to her that others might be in on the scheme.
“Oh, Guinevere. I’m so sorry.” Merlin’s brow furrowed. “I should have said before. Arthur is aware, as is—”
“He knows?” She’d assumed she’d carry this secret alone, especially to be kept from Arthur.
“Of course. He also,” Merlin heaved a sigh as he rolled his eyes, “against my better judgment, I might add, told his closest confidant.”
“Who is that? Would I recognize the name?”
Merlin started walking again without a response. Vera ran the few paces to catch up with him. Now, she was intrigued. It was the first hint of frustration that she’d seen from the patient wizard.
“It’s not, like, Lancelot or something?” she said facetiously, but Merlin’s lips pressed together so tightly that they became a thin line.
Vera’s jaw dropped. “Shut up. It is Lancelot!” Maybe it was because Merlin had turned her whole world sideways and backward in the space of an hour, but she delighted in his annoyance with the famous knight. She laughed. “And you don’t like him!”
“I neither—” Merlin shook his head. “He is the king’s oldest and dearest friend. And I’ve never known him to be anything but fiercely loyal, and for that, I’m grateful. But Lancelot is … loud and foolish.” He opened his mouth as if about to add more but seemed to decide against it and clamped his lips shut.
It all felt distant enough to not entirely be Vera’s story. But her mind flashed to that Arthurian storyline. Guinevere had an affair with Lancelot. Did Merlin know that part?
“I know you said you don’t get too involved in our version of the legend, but there’s a pretty consistent thread about Lancelot and Guinevere that might—”
“Yes, I’m aware.” He waved her off. “Guinevere, you’ll be shocked to learn how wrong this time has gotten things.”
It took Vera a moment to realize that when Merlin said Guinevere, he was addressing her.
“About King Arthur?” she asked.
“About everything. Magic is commonplace in our time. It fuels our culture, our society—little will be as you expect. Magic leaves no archaeological trace, which is largely why you’ve grown up learning about this time as the Dark Ages.” He gave her a sidelong glance, and the smile that rose to his lips was one of pride. “My dear, you will find it is nothing of the sort.”
Merlin had stopped and looked across the street over Vera’s shoulder. She’d been too caught up in trying to imagine a history that the books had gotten so woefully wrong that she’d not noticed where they were standing. They’d arrived at the well house.
The Victorian stone building was nestled against the wooded forest at the Tor’s base. Foliage overtook it from above, giving the illusion that the building’s roof was made of lush, green vines. An ever-flowing fountain trickled out of a stone pillar near the front corner. Even when the temple was closed, any passerby had access to the sacred waters. A squat stone wall lined a courtyard on the front end, with an opening meant to serve as a pathway from the road to the building’s door—which wasn’t solid, but a delicately designed wrought-iron gate of swirls and three vertical almond shapes up the center.
The temple only opened for a few hours each day. It was closed by this time in the evening, and the gate was locked. “Do we—”
Vera didn’t have time to finish her question. Merlin fished a key from the pocket of his robe and moved past her to unlock the gate. He opened it enough for someone to slip through and politely gestured for her to go first. She started when she heard the key in the lock again and turned to see Merlin locking the gate behind them. Her throat tightened, and she tensed. She was trapped in here with a magical stranger. Vera clenched and unclenched her fist as she examined her situation.
What were the options? Decide everything to this point had been bullshit and that this was an elaborate scheme to murder her? Panic and demand he unlock the door so she could run home?
No. She’d decided to trust Merlin the moment she’d accepted the bag that now hung from her shoulder. That’s why she was wearing this dress. She was in it, and there wasn’t any turning back. Vera was either trusting a madman at her peril, or her life was about to become something she could have never even dreamed up. There was no in-between.
She squinted into the shadows, hoping her eyes would begin to adjust. The massive room was very dark, with the fading evening sun providing the only light through the doorway gate. Merlin waved his arm, and candles that had previously only been dark lumps to unadjusted eyes sprang to life all across the room: in dozens of candelabras, pillars on small shelves, candle arrangements surrounding shrines, and tea lights on any ledge wide enough to hold them. The room danced with a flickering glow set to the music of water over rocks.
Stone pillars rose from floor to ceiling, holding the building together while creating mystery, too. The room had nooks and crannies at every turn, each with more candles, pictures, statues of saints or deities, and glowing shrines that poked through the darkness. The floor was wet throughout, but stone basins caught the flowing spring.
Right in the center was a round pool where the water collected deep enough for someone to wade in up to the knee. At the back left corner was a three-tiered stone basin, the topmost of which was the size of a resort hot tub. It was here that visitors could fully bathe in the spring’s waters.
“What now?” Vera asked, and her voice echoed through the chamber, feeling far too loud though she’d whispered.
By way of answer, Merlin carefully picked his way to the back corner to the three-tiered basin. “We’ll need to climb into the submerging pool—”
