“Find Merlin and send the pieces of my magic that still exist within him back to me.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” I asked incredulously, wondering if I wasn’t about to be sent on another wild goose chase by these gods that loved to play too many games.
Rhiannon’s laugh was soft and almost mocking. “Have you never wondered why it is that your magic connects so well with Merlin’s? It is not a coincidence, Guinevere Ramos.”
The hair on my arms seemed to stand up at her words as a sense of awareness filled me. “What do you mean?”
“Adelaide Ramos and Adelaide, Queen of Cameliard, did you not think it odd that the woman seemed to be the same?”
Ihadthought it was weird, but I always assumed it was a part of the gods’ magic, creating a backstory to explain why I was in the past in the first place.
“Much like Merlin,” Arianhrod cut in amidst my thoughts. “Adelaide was taken from my body—from the wheels of fate if you will—and half of her soul remained here in the past while the other half, the half you knew as your mother, was sent to the future.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, taken aback by her words even if they did make total sense. Why else would my mom have been so obsessed with the King Arthur myth if not for thegods willing it to be so. It was like every piece of my life had been orchestrated by the people in front of me and if I wasn’t so focused on getting my pack back, I definitely would have started to spiral.
But my existential crisis would have to wait for another day.
“You had need of a magical spark in your soul—a connection to Merlin that could not be mistaken for anything but pure power—though I did not foresee your,ah, romantic intentions with each other,” the goddess said, seeming to smile for the first time since I had opened my eyes.
“And where is she now?” I asked hesitantly. “My mom, I mean.”
Arianhrod pressed a hand to her heart. “Her soul has returned to me now that it has fulfilled its purpose.”
They kept talking about apurposebut I couldn’t understand what kind of a purpose allowing Arthur and the rest to die would serve.
“What is going to happen to Camelot now? Your prophecy you gave to Merlin said he would be helping the ‘king of kings,’ but Arthur is dead.” My voice cracked on that last word, like saying it out loud made it even more real.
“Fate is mysterious,” Arianhrod said in an equally mysterious tone. “Oftentimes it goes in ways that we least expect. You and Merlin believed that in protecting Arthur, you were protecting a legacy. Little did you know that sometimes it is the smallest acts that have the most profound effect.”
“You are speaking in riddles again, Arianhrod,” Bran, who had been sitting quietly behind the two women cut in. “You know I hate it when you do such things. It was never about Arthur, child, it was about a little boy whose bloodline would foster the kings that turn Logres into the England you know today. You saved a young boy’s life and in doing so you fulfilled your purpose.”
I gaped at him. “This was aboutHenry?”
“Yes,” Bran said, sounding pleased with himself. “And what an ironic name you gave him now that you think of it, yes?”
My head spun with the new information as Arianhrod gently shoved the god out of the way.
“It is fate that Henry was saved by you, this is true Guinevere, but because you gave him a place to stay he will be able to grow old and have many children who will eventually come to rule over Logres as it turns into England.”
“Impossible, how can fate be so simple?” I asked myself as the air around me began to shift, as if it was trying to suck me down. I stared down at my feet as a small hole formed beneath them. “What—?”
“I fear our time is up,” Rhiannon told me brightly. “You will no longer be able to talk to us once you leave here—I do hope your search for the wizard Merlin is fruitful and thank you for fulfilling your fate!”
I was quickly coming to realize that, while the gods were all-powerful, they were also quite immature and fickle, especially when it came to matters of fate.
“Wait!” I said as I was sucked down into the dark hole, the familiar sensation of falling filling me as I realized I had never gotten the chance to ask them where Merlin would be—or where the rest of my pack would be for that matter.
Then everything went black.
Chapter Forty-Six
When I came to, I was kneeling on a hardwood floor, staring at my legs which were clothed in a pair of blue jeans that I only vaguely recognized.
“Many people believe that the legend of King Arthur was spawned by the people who had to live through the Saxon invasions—people needed something to believe in and a legend about a man who pulls a magical sword from the stone is exactly what the doctor ordered,” the docent continued her story, her voice filled with the wonder and awe of someone who had spent their life studying something.
I was too disoriented to care.
For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all some weird hallucination—my mind conjuring up an entire story because I was feeling desperate and lonely after a bad date.
