If something happened, and she couldn’t get back to her parents—to her father. Vera looked at her hands in her lap and squeezed her fingers into her thighs as a physical shiver of fear seared through her. What if she was stuck here?

“Which is why I didn’t use it more than was necessary,” Merlin added more quietly, his eyes tender with understanding. “I promised I’d give you the option to leave after your work here is done, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep that promise. Now,” he said more brightly, “what else would you like to know?”

Vera groaned. “I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know anything about magic or this kingdom …”

“All right. Basics,” Merlin said. “When the Romans departed after a long occupation, it left what you know as England as thousands of scattered tribes, vulnerable and enticing to conquerors. That much is likely in your history books. After years of relative chaos, magic intervened and chose Arthur, and he brought the kingdom together.”

“Was it Excalibur?” Vera asked, unable to stop herself from interrupting. “Did he pull a sword from a stone or a lake or … whatever?”

Merlin smiled like he was speaking to a child. “It wasn’t so dramatic as any of that. A mage met him and was able to see him—to really see him and sense that he was chosen.

“Miraculously, all the other mages in the land who met Arthur confirmed it, too. That was a compelling testimony, as it didn’t benefit any of them. But that’s just it. It was undeniable. Anybody with even a less powerful gift could sense it when they met him, and that’s no meager part of the population—nearly one in four. It gave him a firm foundation for ruling.”

“Sorry.” Vera stopped him. “A quarter of people here have magic? Is everyone with magic—or the gift—is that what you call it? Is everyone with magic a mage?”

“No. In fact, nearly all with the gift are born with one ability, and that’s that. Mages are far rarer. We have multiple gifts, and we acquire more throughout our lives. Most towns in the kingdom have a mage who provides powers for their citizens. The greater the castle and surrounding town, the greater the mage. Our largest cities often have two.” He waited, looking at Vera expectantly.

The implication dawned on her. “Are there two here?” she asked.

“There used to be. We shared this study.” He gestured to the other desk. “She betrayed the kingdom by trying to kill the queen and nearly succeeding.” Merlin folded his hands in front of him as Vera realized that, by the queen, he meant her.

“You said what happened was an accident,” she said.

He nodded gravely. “The official story from the throne is that you were in an accident and that Viviane, our second mage, happened to be on a mission in Saxon lands when she was killed by captors. Only Arthur, Lancelot, and now you know the truth; Viviane attacked you, and she died for her crime. But we have kept it from our people.”

That raised hairs on Vera’s arms. “Why?”

“Peace, and even Britain itself, is young. The wars ended three years ago, and here we had an unprecedented force of unity, a land and a people rich with magic, and more mages with greater power than any nation has ever seen. The people are building infrastructure, knowing they’re a part of something different, something bigger than themselves. This time is golden. Have you noticed how few guards there are roaming the castle grounds? That you only have the one chambermaid? That Arthur isn’t constantly accompanied by a king’s guard?”

She had noticed, but she’d thought it merely a coincidence that there’d been no guards in the corridors last night.

“We’re not yet so established as to be confined by the structures and formality demanded by an older and larger country. It’s a special time of growth and prosperity that few nations enjoy, and we only have it this once. Can you imagine how that would have shattered when the king’s own mage, the most trusted and powerful position at court aside from the king himself, betrayed him? We couldn’t sacrifice what we’d built, so we made the difficult decision to keep it all a secret.”

“But you can’t keep it a secret for long, can you?” Vera leaned back in her seat as if this would help her absorb the blow of this information. “You said yesterday that magic was draining from the kingdom. Won’t they begin to notice?”

“Yes, and noticing will be the least of our problems, I’m afraid,” Merlin said, and his face drew taut. “When I said that the magic rate was one in four, it was a misrepresentation of our current situation. It is the number most know and will say offhandedly, and it was true … before. Viviane cursed us. The magical birthrate is closer to one in ten now. This nation was founded on magic, and we will not survive without it. I can only imagine the designs she must have had for the kingdom to lay such a curse.”

Merlin tilted his head to the side. “But you knew. You found her out, and you alone know what she did. She locked up your memories because they are our key to undoing her wrongs. It is a miracle we didn’t lose you in her attack.” He closed the massive book before him and opened his hands palms up toward her. “You’re a one-of-a-kind anomaly, my dear. The type of magic I used to save your life has never been used before.”

“Then how do you know it will work?” she asked, and with a swallow, mustered the nerve to voice her fear. “Merlin, I’m not her. I don’t know how I could possibly have her memories.”

“They’re your memories,” he corrected. “And I know because you’ve already begun to remember.”

“No, I haven’t,” she said adamantly.

“You have.” There was that measured patience in Merlin’s smile. “I saw it.”

Vera stared at him. There wasn’t a single point in the last twenty-four hours when she had been anything but dumbfounded. The closest she had come to a memory was her unnerving affection for Lancelot, something she hoped Merlin hadn’t noticed.

His eyes glinted. “How much horse riding do you recall doing during your life in Glastonbury?”

“Horse riding?” She blinked. “Hardly any.”

“Any formal training?”

She shook her head.

“Guinevere, there’s a particular way a lady wearing a gown is trained to dismount her horse. I watched you do it last night precisely as you were trained as a young lady in our time. You did it as if it was second nature to you because it is.”

As soon as Merlin said it, she realized it was true. At the time, Vera had been consumed with what would come next. She hadn’t noticed getting off the horse at all, and if someone had asked her to recount step-by-step how to do it, she wasn’t sure she could. But Vera felt an easy conviction that she could do it again. “That’s enough for you to feel certain the rest of it’s in there?”

“It is enough, and I am certain,” he said.

“Is there some magical way to make me remember?” Vera heard desperation creeping into her shaking voice. “Can’t you pull it out of my head or something?”

Merlin steepled his fingers in front of his lips. She thought he wanted to say yes, but he sighed and clicked his tongue. “Ultimately, we’ll need to use a magical procedure to penetrate the final barrier—to get to the heart of what Viviane didn’t want you to remember. But …” He took a slow breath before he nodded, resolved. “The more you can wear away at what she’s done to block you, the better magical intervention will ultimately work.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Familiarity is fundamental to unlocking both your conscious and unconscious memories. Immerse yourself into what was your ordinary life as thoroughly as possible. As queen, you’re responsible for all matters in the castle, so you’ll be well-equipped to perform those duties. I didn’t plan it this way, but it works out rather well that you helped run the hotel with Martin and Allison. But the most important thing you can do is reconnect with Arthur—in every way you can.”