She let him lead her on without tearing her eyes from the happy spectacle around her. Too soon, they’d reached the end of the magical lane where the lanterns stopped, and the crowd grew thin.
“Arthur will meet us over there.” He pointed to the end of the High Street, into the quiet darkness where Vera could make out a barn.
Her stomach flipped over on itself. Merlin must have seen her expression change.
“There’s no need to be nervous. Reconnecting with him will help to loosen your memories. I expect you’ll remember him before you remember the rest. This will be good,” he told her.
His reassurance only carried Vera so far. She took a steadying breath and nodded. As they drew nearer to the stable, Vera saw that someone was seated on the ground outside it, his back against the wall. It was dark enough that she couldn’t make out his features, but he must have also seen Merlin and Vera, for he stood up. It hit her in the gut.
It was him.
“Why don’t you go ahead?” Merlin said. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
That really wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t know how to make her feet work. How was she supposed to meet one of the most famous men in history as her husband? Jesus. Husband. She’d have laughed at the absurdity of it if it wasn’t also so terrifying. Vera didn’t have words or a voice to protest. She stood rooted on the spot. Merlin nudged her forward. She took a shaking step, then another.
Her heart thudded against her chest, and blood pumped so rapidly through her body that she’d swear she could feel it pulsing in her fingertips. She was sure the man could see how much she was shaking. Before she knew it, her feet were carrying her to him. He was handsome and tall, and his frame was neither broad nor narrow but lean, muscular, and fit. He wore a short beard cropped close to his chin, and his honey-brown hair was just long enough for a loose piece to swoop across his forehead. What she noticed more than all the rest was the kindness of his eyes.
As soon as their eyes met, a deep affection rose from her belly.
“Hello,” Vera said hesitantly.
She didn’t realize how rigid his mouth had been drawn until he relaxed at her greeting. The concern fixed into the lines of his face ebbed into relief, and his eyes glinted. He rushed to Vera and swept her into a hug. She tentatively let herself melt into it, experimenting with how it felt to lean her head into his shoulder and return the embrace, touching his back with one hand. He released his hands to her shoulders, bending his knees to drop to eye level with her. His brow furrowed as he carefully examined her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said with a nervous half-laugh. Though she had no memory of him, Vera instantly felt like she knew him. This might work.
“Goddammit!”
Vera jumped at Merlin’s voice, cursing close behind her. “Where the hell is Arthur?” His glare burned into the man.
Vera tensed and turned back to the man holding her shoulders. This was not Arthur?
The stranger saw the shock on her face. He dropped his hands from her arms and stepped toward Merlin. “May I have a word?”
Merlin’s steady demeanor, which Vera had witnessed only minutes ago, swung to palpable anger. She supposed, considering the gravity of the situation, it was understandable. The unknown man, on the other hand, genially guided Merlin away, an arm slung around his shoulders like an old friend. Vera couldn’t hear their conversation but could see from his gestures and posture that the man was working to diffuse Merlin’s ire. She watched them without any attempt to hide her interest. If there was some reason Arthur couldn’t show up for a horse ride after she’d left her entire life behind, Vera felt entitled to know it. She’d assumed she would be the only obstacle to this plan’s success, not anybody else. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder how Arthur felt about it, nor had she considered until this exact moment that Guinevere and Arthur’s relationship might have been an unhappy one.
When Merlin turned back to Vera, the other man tailing a step behind him, it seemed his efforts had not been in vain. Merlin still seethed, but the aura of fury had dissipated.
“It appears I am urgently needed. I’ll be riding ahead. Sir Lancelot will escort you to the castle. You’ll be safe with him.”
He wheeled about and hurried into the stable without another word, leaving Vera alone with Lancelot.
“Shit,” she said under her breath. She was as clueless as she’d ever been about herself and this world, a maddening combination of concerned and offended by Arthur’s absence, and wildly embarrassed by her interaction with the man she now knew to be Lancelot. He rocked from his heels to his toes, expression light and unfazed.
“Is something the matter with Arthur?” she asked.
“Oh, he’s fine,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Are you hungry? We’ve got a decent ride ahead of us. Maybe three hours.”
Vera sighed, questioning if Merlin had intentionally couched the difficulty of this whole journey. To add to it, she actually was famished. After only toast and tea post-run and frantic bites of stew between serving tables at lunch, followed by having her existence called into question, Vera was wholly depleted.
“I really am,” she said.
“Good, because I’m starving.” He offered his arm to her, which she accepted before they walked back toward the evening market. “There’s a stall with good hand pies up here. Ale or wine?”
“Oh, erm, ale,” Vera answered. Water might have been a better option, but she wasn’t sure if it was even readily available, and the shame of naivety kept her from asking.
Lancelot guided her through the growing crowd beneath the magical lanterns. He made a beeline for a particular food stall. While he spoke with the old man preparing the food, Vera slipped away from him and back into the street, careful to keep Lancelot in eyeshot. This version of Glastonbury was scrambled up, brightly lit, and magically buzzing. It was clearly the town she knew so well, but now she saw it as if reflected in a jeweled looking glass. The instinct to grab her phone and take a picture was so deeply ingrained that Vera even reached for where her trouser pocket should have been before she remembered it wasn’t there. That was going to be stranger to get used to than the new name.
