“I assure you that once you’ve achieved this Mission Impossible—as you call it, but I will not—your fate will be in your hands.”

“So if I decide I really don’t want to die?”

“Your fate will be yours to decide.”

“If I decide I want to return to plumbing and electricity? And my photography?”

“Your fate will be in your hands, Isabel.”

“All righty, then,” Isabel said, testing the necklace, and sure enough it wasn’t letting go. “Is there any place I can write a Post-it on those words I need to spake?”

“You will remember them should you need them.”

“Another question. If I need help or advice, may I come visit you?”

“Always.”

“How will I find you?”

“Just ask in your mind, Isabel. I will answer.”

“Okay, just so I’m sure about my assignment. Try to seduce Lance away from Gwen so Arthur and Gwen stick to the happily-ever-after plan. And this will help the king to save Camelot?”

Viviane laughed, and the clouds and rain instantly disappeared. Isabel envied that power, wishing she’d known how to do that with a couple of boyfriends. “Yes, that’s the plan. But plans sometimes go awry.”

“Oh, goody.”

“You have the necklace. Use it judiciously, and you will—how do you say it in your time?—kick aces?”

“Close enough, if you’re a betting woman.”

“I’m betting on you, Isabel. I’m betting on love for you. The one you ‘shoulda’ had in your time.

Isabel was kind of regretting the last thoughts of shouldas at this point. Maybe she should have been concentrating on the shouldn’t haves. “How am I supposed to find the castle again?”

The Lady dipped her hand into the water and threw a handful into the air. They looked like drops of silver mercury as they hung for a while, and then one by one dropped back into the lake.

Viviane pointed behind Isabel. “Your horse awaits.”

Isabel looked around and there stood the most beautiful white Arabian horse, standing, snorting, impatient. Isabel tilted her head and looked down below. Definitely a female, as nothing dangled.