Vera fished through the pebbles, too, until her fingers found a small, flat rock. She picked it up and skipped it across the water. It zipped along the surface until the pebble took its final skip and disappeared into the waterfall. He gave an appreciative hum and nudged his shoulder against hers. That was it. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

“There’s something important I need to ask you about,” Vera said, nerves adding a quiver to her voice.

Lancelot sat up straighter. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and felt her heart begin to quicken. “Before the accident, did we … do something? You’re the one person who has felt familiar since I got here. And I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” he said quietly.

It urged Vera on. “Well, I wondered if that meant … did something inappropriate happen between us?”

Lancelot blinked, stunned as he took her meaning. “You think we had an affair.”

“I—well, I don’t know.” Shame rolled through Vera before she made up her mind and said firmly, “Yes, actually, I do. In the legends about you lot from my time, Guinevere and Lancelot had an affair … one that rather wrecked the kingdom, I think. And this feels so strong. Based on what we’re doing right now … Lancelot, we’re sitting together with barely any clothing on in a cavern where you have obviously brought women before—and don’t try to deny it. You have an entire box of blankets, a light at the ready, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have some wine tucked away somewhere, too.”

He’d opened his mouth to argue but closed it as he chuckled and stared down at the rock that he turned in his fingers.

“I can’t help but wonder if you’ve brought me here before. And it also might explain why Arthur can’t stand to look at me, much less speak to me.” Now, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“You haven’t been here before, and we did not have an affair of any kind,” he said. He was silent for a moment before he fully turned, repositioning his body to face Vera. She turned, too. They each sat cross-legged, knee-to-knee. “Guinna, this does feel strong now. You’re right. And this is going to sound mad, but I hardly knew you before. Of course, I knew you. But you and I never had more than a five-minute conversation between the two of us.”

“We didn’t?” Vera asked, utterly flabbergasted. “But this is so easy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this comfortable with anyone. And if we didn’t even talk before, why were you waiting for me in Glastonbury when I came back?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” His jaw stiffened, and he stared down at his feet.

She could feel it; he was holding back. “What do you know that you aren’t telling me? Please,” she urged at his silence. “How am I supposed to do this if I don’t know anything?”

Vera groaned when he didn’t answer.

Lancelot shook his head. “Guinevere was—you were sad before the attack. And I knew Arthur was struggling after, and Merlin is … Merlin,” he said offhandedly with a half-smile. Then, he grew serious. “I didn’t want you to be alone without anyone who knew what happened. Without anyone who could be your friend. I’d have never guessed it would be like this, though. This is different.”

His face shone with unbridled adoration. She understood what he meant. Vera would have called this sort of friendship magic before she even knew magic existed. But the way he’d corrected himself when he referred to Guinevere as another person needled at her mind.

“I think I’m only a container for her memories,” Vera said. “I’m not really her.”

He cocked his head and met her eyes, searching her. “Maybe not. The way you move and talk, even your expressions are the same. But Guinevere often seemed like she was walking through a dream, and you’re …” He exhaled a laugh before he finished, “Not that. I can’t imagine her stripping down to her undergarments and swinging into a pond, but there were glimpses. Like when she came up with the battle strategy. She was rather fearless. That part feels like you.”

Vera laughed. He wasn’t seeing her clearly. Perhaps it felt harsh to him to face the truth: the only part of her that was important was Guinevere’s memory. “That’s kind,” she said, “but I’m far from fearless, and I certainly shouldn’t be anywhere near commanding anyone. I still have Matilda address the kitchen staff for me”

“I’d follow you into battle,” he said. “And I mean that.”

“Thank you,” Vera said, blushing under his gaze and the compliment. “What do you have there?” She reached out to steady his busy fingers on the stone.

He grinned as he handed it to her, aware that she was asking solely to change the subject. “It’s a nice shape, isn’t it?”

Vera turned the stone in her hands and smiled. “It’s a heart.”

And so it was, a smooth black river stone in the shape of a heart that fit comfortably in her palm.

“A heart?” He leaned closer for a better look. “I’ve seen a heart. That is not what it looks like.”

Vera laughed. “Well, in my time, this is the shape that’s used to represent a heart or love. People draw them, make jewelry with them … My mum actually finds heart-shaped rocks everywhere she goes. She has a whole vase full at home.” As Allison’s face came to mind, the sting of it was instant. Vera held the stone back out to Lancelot.

“You should keep it. To remind you of her,” he said.

“I don’t want to be reminded of her,” Vera said, sharper than she meant to. If she thought of her parents, if she thought of her own life at all, she’d think of Vincent. So much for being fearless. All Vera could do to make the painful things bearable was hide from them.

“All right. I’ll keep it.” With one hand, Lancelot took the rock and put it in his pocket. With the other, he took Vera’s hand and gently squeezed it.

His gaze drifted from their entwined fingers up Vera’s blanket-wrapped body to her face, and it was as if their proximity occurred to him for the first time. He pulled his hand back.

“You know I didn’t bring you here to seduce you, right? I don’t have any interest in … I have no physical desire for you,” he said. Then, hastily, as if that might have offended her, “You’re a beautiful woman, but it’s not like that.”

“I know.” And as Vera said it out loud, the knot in her stomach undid itself because she knew it was irrevocably true. “Do you worry, though, that our friendship is suspicious to others? I mean, I questioned if we’d been together.”

He considered it only briefly. “I don’t know how it was in your time, but it’s rather scandalous for a woman to be alone with a man who’s not her husband or father. But you and I have some fortunate latitude. I’ve been named your escort. I’m trusted with you because of my station in the kingdom and my friendship with Arthur. Granted,” he surveyed the cave and the nest of blankets surrounding them and squinted guiltily, “this might be pushing the boundary.”

“Pushing the boundary or absolutely trampling it?”

“It could be worse,” Lancelot said, his lips turning up at the corners. “I usually swim naked.”

Vera made a choice. Since her efforts to get closer to Arthur had only ever backfired, she decided to stop trying, and the freedom that followed was a marked relief.

She reassured herself with Merlin’s promise that they’d begin magical intervention when he got back. And he had encouraged Vera to reacclimate. Since Arthur removed himself as a point of connection, she took that as the go-ahead to spend her idle time precisely as she pleased. She had no delusions that she could be more than the conduit for lost memories—but she could at least try to enjoy herself along the way.