Nicholas and Elia sat in two of the chairs by the hearth in the room, while Kes sat at the edge of the bed.
Elia listened patiently to Nicholas’ thoughts and concerns and did her best to explain to him that this was what she wanted, no matter the risks.
“I have no regrets, Nicky. Not one. But I want my own adventure now. ’Tis being offered to me. I must accept it.”
“But we will never see each other again,” he lamented. “’Tis like you are dying.”
Kes wiped her eyes. There had to be a way to find some good in this this.
“Find my father.”
Elia nodded. “I will do my best.”
Kes smiled and left the bed to kneel at Elia’s chair and took her hand. “I feel very happy about it. You can tell him about me. Tell him I told you about the time my appendix nearly burst when I was a baby, and how I wanted to marry a cartoon dog when I was a little girl. That should help him to believe you.”
Elia laughed. “All right, but what is appendix and a cartoon?”
Kes explained both, once again realizing how terribly shocking the twenty-first century was going to be. “Listen, Elia, when you get there, depending on where you land, just keep a clear head. If you are outside, remember East Sixty-second Street. Find a way to get there even if you have to walk. You’ll need money. You can ask people. There will be a lot of people. Oh, a lot, Elia.”
Her friend smiled, as if to reassure her.
“When you find East Sixty-second…say it. East Sixty-second Street.”
“East Sixty-second Street.”
“Good. Look at the doorways on the buildings. Find the number fifty-five. Go inside. You will see a man at a desk. Tell him you’re there to see Art Lancaster. If he tells you my father is away, tell him a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
“That is pretty.”
“It’s a line from a Shakespearean play. It’s a code my dad and I use to let the doorman know to let me in. If you know the code, you can get in. Now this is a lot to take in, so let’s practice while I tell you about cars and lights and horns.”
“Do you think he could have something to do with this whole King Arthur thing?” Elia asked her.
“Because his name is Arthur?” Kes laughed softly. “I doubt it, but he has always been very knightly.”
“His name is Arthur?” Nicholas looked up.
“Yes. Charles Arthur.
“Oh, what an adventure that would be,” Elia laughed. “But you said your father never remarried after your mother died.”
“Maybe he has been waiting for you.”
Elia actually blushed. Kes looked at Nicholas and smiled. He didn’t smile back.
That night, when Elia went to her own room, he lay awake holding Kes in his arms while he told her stories of his childhood with Elia. They made love slowly, quietly, lost in the comfort of each other’s embrace.
Morning came too soon, though Kes had to smile at Elia’s contagious happiness. Even Nicholas found himself smiling.
Sir Gawaine waited alone outside the inn. When he saw them, he pulled something from a fold in his cloak. “What is it going to be, Ms. Lancaster?”
“Elia is going,” Kes told him. “And you better get her to the right place. Preferably, my father’s apartment.”
After a long, teary farewell, and a few grumbles from Sir Gawaine, the knight handed Elia the brooch and told her what to do. She took it, waved goodbye, and opened her mouth. “Pendragon.”
The air shimmered for an instant and then Elia was gone. The brooch fell to the ground.
“Hell.” Kes heard Nicholas mutter and watched him walk away.