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The grass felt soft underfoot, soft and warm. I wore a gown of rich gold silk—I was dressed as a queen! My bare feet were pale as I stepped up on a mossy rock in the center of a stone circle. Around the stone circle was a larger circle of fragrant cedar trees. They filled this open-air sanctuary with earthy yet fresh perfume. This was an ancient place, far older than I. I closed my eyes and tilted my face toward the sun, breathing it all in. Where was I? I did not immediately recognize this place, but it somehow felt familiar. It must be far away from Camelot for I saw no familiar bluebonnets, no climbing forest roses. Yes, this was a strange place. Shutting my eyes again, I let the sun warm my skin.
The sun! I stood in the sun and did not burn!
With that awareness, my arms flew to my face, the bell sleeves of the rich garment covering me. I held my breath, expecting to be consumed, but I felt no heat and no harm came to me. How was this possible? How long had it been since I stood in the sun? How long since I’d known such peace? I stepped down from the rock and a song rose within me, falling from my lips as if I’d known it forever although the words were strange to me. Dancing lightly, I twirled around, my hands lifting my skirt to free my feet from entanglement. My bright red hair flew around me.
My hair!
My hair was as it had been before I was given the shee blood, before I drank the curse and willingly took it into my body. My hair was bright and wavy like my mother’s had been! I held it in my hands and looked at the glistening tresses. This must be some kind of magic! I needed to see my face...surely there was a pool nearby. I searched the perimeter of the stone circle and saw no water. I had some trepidation about exploring beyond this magical circle. For some reason, I was afraid to step out of its borders. No, I must stay within the circle.
And then I spotted the pool. It was right next to the rock I had stood upon. How strange that I did not see it. I ran to the small pool of water and fell on my knees to look at my reflection. Oh yes, that was me! My eyes were bright and blue and human; my cheeks were pink and healthy, and my teeth were even. I saw no hint of the curse at all. I rubbed my skin with my hands. It felt warm. This cannot be!
What was this? I rose from the ground and clenched my fists. This was a horrible trick! Was this Morgan’s doing? How cruel to let me feel the sun, to see myself as I once had been, mortal and young! I turned to search for my familiar enemy, but I did not find her.
“Morgan! Come out now! Come out and face me!”
Morgan did not appear, but I was not alone.
A young woman approached me from the border of the stone circle. She had pale blond hair, so pale it was almost white. She wore it in the old style, braided at her temples with the rest loose and flowing like a white waterfall. Her skin had an ethereal, golden hue to it, and her eyes were dark brown but tender-looking, like a doe’s eyes. She wore a gown of white and gold, except for her sky-blue tunic, which was clasped with a red rose at her bosom. She was the picture of innocence and youth and loveliness. But as I had learned over my many centuries, things and people were not always what they seemed. I got the sense that the stranger knew I thought she was beautiful. And she liked it.
This is certainly some sort of magic, I warned myself without thinking.
“It certainly is, but what is magic, Queen Guinevere?”
Since she chose to speak, I did the same. “I am no theologian to answer your question. Who are you, and why have you brought me here?”
Her passive expression did not alter a bit. “I am known by many names. Which one would please you, I wonder? Some call me Aurora, others Brynhild, and still others Zellandine.”
“I would know your true name,” I demanded as my silken gown fluttered in a sudden breeze.
The young woman gave a cryptic smile and walked slowly around me, examining me from all sides as I also examined her. Two creatures sizing one another up.
“You want me to answer your question, yet you do not answer mine. That is not queenly behavior at all. As I am queen of this kingdom, I expect to be treated courteously by visitors. I will ask again, what is magic?”
“I gave you my answer. I am no theologian, and I am therefore hardly qualified to provide you with a knowledgeable response.” A cloud passed over the sun, and I shivered in its shadow. Some of the warmth left me.
She waited and watched me. I quickly imagined a wall in my mind as I rallied my thoughts. I could not be sure whether I was dreaming or awake, and I was at this creature’s mercy either way. What if whatever magic she had placed on me lifted and I was left to burn in the sun? The wisest course of action appeared to be entertaining this upstart queen until I could assess the danger and be rid of her.
“So predictable,” she said, but still she waited for my answer.
“Magic is a practice that allows the user to impose her will on the current reality,” I said as calmly as I could. “I have never seen it used for the betterment of others.”
“Ah,” she said with her hands clasped in front of her. “The betterment of others.” She giggled for a second, and then her dark eyes fastened on mine. Whatever humor she found in my answer quickly departed. She had a lovely face, the kind of face that men would feel inspired to write stories about. “Yet you are here, Queen Guinevere, still alive many hundreds of years beyond your natural life. That is surely magic. And Arthur, what magic has brought him back to you?”
“Who are you? You seem to know my name, but I do not know you.”
She bowed her head in acknowledgment of me. “I am Queen Thalia.”
“I take you at your word that you are who you say you are. From one queen to another, why have you brought me here? I am not accustomed to doing the bidding of another, especially another queen.” Another cloud rolled in front of the sun, and the air around me took on an odd sepia color. A wind began to blow my skirts, sleeves and hair. I noticed that Thalia’s hair remained untouched.
Oh yes, she is a powerful one, whatever she is.
“You ask the wrong question, Guinevere. No wonder you are in the condition you are in, ensnared by shee magic. And at your own hand, no less. You need not look so surprised...you are the curiosity of the supernatural world. It’s a wonder you have not been staked—or burned. How did you manage to escape the witch trials? How many innocents have you killed?”
“What happened to your rules, Queen Thalia? One question at a time, remember? Those were your rules, not mine, and I asked my question first.” I stepped toward her, not in a directly threatening way but enough to let her know I would not be intimidated by her apparent knowledge of me. I heard an owl hooting in the trees that now swayed in a devilish wind. As the wind picked up, the sun warmed me in a familiar and uncomfortable way. Thalia’s head tilted down, but she kept those dark eyes on me, two deep wells of blackness with no warmth at all. The wind whipped my skirts, and my hair slapped my face. I began to burn.
This isn’t possible! I am in my kistvaen! This is an illusion! A working of magic!
“Stop this now!” I commanded her. And to my surprise, the wind stopped. I took down my hands and could see that although she and I remained in the stone circle, the sun had disappeared. The moon reigned in the sky, and the stars shone down their light bright and cold. I heard the owl flap away on almost-silent wings.
She said calmly, “I’m here to set you straight. To let you know that Camelot, the city you abandoned, is mine. Do not cross its borders. Do not come here again. I do not know how you came to be here, but I assure you it was not my doing.”
“What madness is this? There is no more Camelot,” I replied with some anger.
She paused, her eyes wide with surprise. “You truly believe that? Then I have been the fool here, not you. Is it possible that you stumbled into this magic circle?” She laughed her pretty laugh, but it did not warm my heart. “Then forgive me my intrusion, Guinevere. You remain in your world, and I will remain in mine.” Thalia waved her hand, and the wind stilled completely. She walked to the edge of the circle and turned partially before speaking once more. Her words chilled my soul.
“But whether in this world or the one you return to, know this—Arthur is mine too. I can hardly rule Camelot without the Pendragon by my side. When I claim him, do not interfere.”
Before I could command her to stop, she stepped away and disappeared from my view. The stone that I once stood upon glowed slightly; this was obviously some kind of portal, an entranceway to the world where I now lived. You should go back. I heard her voice in my head as clearly as I would hear my own.
I told myself, Camelot is gone! There is no real threat here. Arthur is safe with me!
Yet even as those words entered my mind, I wondered if they were true. Thalia had found me and had somehow summoned me here. And if not Thalia, then who? If her power was so great, there was no doubt she could easily call Arthur into her realm.
I sounded like Faraday now! What if he was right? What if there was another Camelot? Or my Camelot, abandoned by Arthur and me? Not sure what to do, I hurried to the edge of the stone circle. I could see a shimmer in the air, an ever-shrinking shimmering. Another portal! Time was of the essence. I had a chance to stop Thalia and to see Camelot for myself.
What do I do? Nimue? Arthur? Lancelot? What do I do? Merlin, can you see me?
Fear gripped me, but I could not tarry here. Nor could I return to my kistvaen and pretend that this was all a dream. I may be the Undead Queen, as Morgan liked to call me, but I was queen still.
Thalia brought me to this fight, but I would end it.
No matter the cost.
