“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—”

“Why did I bother changing first?” Vera asked.

“It won’t be an issue,” Merlin answered as he gingerly stepped onto the first tier at the height of his knees. He climbed with the agility of a much younger man to the top of the basin.

Vera sighed, remembering she’d decided she was too far in to turn back, and followed him. It wasn’t terribly high, not two meters to the top. She clambered awkwardly to sit atop the wall, her dress catching under her. She grunted with the effort as she spun her feet toward the waters. Clutching the bag still slung over her shoulder, Vera remembered the photograph tucked away.

“Merlin?” she said tentatively. She didn’t see him at first. It was darker this far back in the room, and there was only one small candelabra lit up at the far end of this pool. After a moment, though, she saw that he had gracefully paddled to the center. “I’m not sure what to do with my bag. There’s … there’s the picture of my parents in there.”

She couldn’t see his face but could tell he’d turned back toward her. “It’s all right. Your belongings will be fine.”

She hesitated only another moment and then, clutching the bag to her body, lowered herself in. Half gasp and half yell escaped her when the cold water rushed over her skin. She’d never dipped in the spring herself but knew the waters were famously frigid year-round. Vera stumbled toward Merlin at the center of the pool, her soaked gown growing heavier with each step and catching around her ankles.

It was deepest in the middle. When she drew even with Merlin, their heads were the only parts of their bodies not submerged. Even as a disembodied head in freezing waters, he looked composed and stately. Vera, on the other hand, shivered violently and had to grasp Merlin’s arm as she stumbled on her hem. He helped hold her to her feet and kept his hand on Vera’s elbow to steady her.

“In a moment, I’ll ask you to go completely underwater. And then I’ll begin the spell.” Merlin spoke deliberately and didn’t break eye contact with Vera. “Once the spell begins, it’s imperative that you do not come back to the surface. Do you understand?”

She nodded and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. “Stay underwater. Got it.”