Page 114 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“Stay close until we’re inside,” Arthur said, pausing to let me catch up. “How’s the camera, Tristan?”

I searched the sky for the drone. I’d watched them launch it from Lance’s rental car. They’d run some tests on the cellular connection before the drone vanished into the fog. The waves and tourists’ voices were too loud to hear the rotors spinning. “Can he see us?”

“He can,” said Arthur. “But he says a heavier bank is moving in from the west. Tristan’s confirmed the thermal works. Galahad’s with him to focus on visuals while Tristan handles the piloting.”

All this for my little sword.

“We’ve only got so much time.” Arthur inclined his head toward the cave entrance, the serious bodyguard face stuck in place. “We need to move.”

The temperature dropped once we were inside. The air was dense with salt and damp, and the sound changed. Beach noise fell away, replaced by the muffled roar of the waves. Sand gave way to uneven rock, slick with algae and broken by shallow pools where the tide had left small pockets of water behind.

Centuries of tides had worn deep grooves and pockets into the slate walls. Daylight reached only a short way into the cave, and soon I had to turn on my flashlight.

Arthur did the same against the opposite wall.

A couple walked past us, the woman laughing at whatever the man had said. Their voices bounced off the ceiling and multiplied.

“If you want to focus on this section, I’ll move further in?” I suggested.

“Copy.”

The rough stone and jutting rock formations hid him from sight as I kept going, but we weren’t far apart. I stopped halfway through and swept the beam left along the floor, raised it, and swept it right. Back and forth, I treated the wall like a grid, searching for anything that interrupted the rock’s natural pattern. Maybe a straight line. Maybe a curve too regular for water. Maybe a circle with a cross and a wavy line.

Now and then, something caught my eye, and I took a photo. The cave walls told geological stories, but they weren’t the story I was after.

A man in a rain jacket walked past, heading for the beach. He paused long enough to say, “Your photos would turn out better with more light.”

“I know.” When I’d been sitting in Samantha’s meeting room, and the Cornwall connection showed up for the first time, I’d imagined all sorts of steps in my authentication work. Standing inside Merlin’s Cave after being sent on a wild goose chase to Champagne, attacked in more than one location, and having sex with Arthur Penn… none of that was on the list of things I’d planned for. “It’s a bit of a spontaneous trip.”

He grunted and continued on his way.

The rock was relentlessly natural. It was so full of grooves and ridges that I had to squeeze my eyes shut a few times to stop myself from seeing the symbol where it wasn’t.

Where are you?

Everything pointed to Tintagel. So where was the mark? Was it in the ruins above us?

“How’s the search going?” Arthur appeared from around a jutting rock formation.

“Nothing yet.”

“I lost my cell signal once we came into the cave. I’m going to pop outside for a second to check in with the guys. You good?”

“I’m good. I’ll keep at it.” I stared at the wall. “Can you hand me the sword, though? I want to compare it to the surface of the walls and the cave mouth.”

“Thinking it’ll inspire you?”

I shrugged. “Something’s got to.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in five.” He set the sword case on a flat, dry ledge near my feet and leaned in to press his lips to my temple. Quick, soft, and gone before I could react.

I watched his silhouette shrink, his shoulders shifting with each measured step over the wet rocks. He didn’t look back.

He kissed you like it was nothing. Like he’d been doing it for years.

My hand landed on my chest for some reason. Maybe it was because my lungs had forgotten how to work. Or maybe it was my heart that had stopped.

I’d kissed that man plenty of times over the past two days—many times while wearing far less clothing—but that kiss was different.