Kat

Before Pat and I could react and check on Beatrice, the library began to fade, and the mirror boiled again. I looked at my sister, whose mouth hung open.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered, my heart beating a mile a minute.

"I—I don't know." Pat looked as rattled as I felt.

I didn't want to ask, but I had to know. "Do you think she's dead?"

"Oh, yeah," my sister replied with conviction. "But, somehow, I don't think anyone will find her soon. I mean, did you see that library? That was old-school Victorian! Libraries like that don't exist anymore."

"So, not only did we open it to some other place, but it connected to some other time?" The idea fascinated me. And, if it intrigued me, I knew Pat felt raging curiosity.

We turned back to the mirror as its surface settled again, this time showing us the inside of some kind of wood-lined closet, looking through a row of clothing. Pat reached in and pulled the end of a sleeve through, revealing a stunning lavender with silver embroidery and lace at the wrist.

"This—this is silk! And the embroidery looks hand done." She let it drop and looked at another one, this time blue with gold accents. "Wow."

"That looks medieval, Pat. I know because we studied clothing when the drama club did those excerpts from Hamlet."

She fingered the sleeve, looking into the mirror. "We have to check it out, Kat."

I could tell that I'd never be able to convince her otherwise. I tried anyway. "I don't know. What if we go and can't get back, Pat?"

"What if we don't? Think about it! Direct research of the time period!"

I pursed my lips and crossed my arms. "And just who would believe our source? 'Oh, I know about X because we stepped through this mirror and into a medieval wardrobe."

Pat rolled her eyes. "Okay, yeah, I get it, but, damnit, Kat, I want to go." She turned to me, and I could see the stubbornness in her eyes. "I'm going to go. Come with me?"

I sighed and threw up my hands in surrender. "Yeah, okay. I can't let you go alone."

She grinned, parted the clothes, and stepped into the mirror. I followed close behind. We ended up rather cramped in the space with all the clothing. Pat pushed on the door, but it wouldn't budge. "I think it's locked. I could force it open if I have to, but I'd rather not break it," she explained.

My heart raced again, and I felt a little clammy. Claustrophobia didn't bother me often, but when it did, I struggled. Behind us was no longer a way back home but the back of the closet instead. I tried not to, but I started to breathe faster. "I need out, Pat. Now."

She nodded and put her shoulder to the door, pushing against it. It didn't budge. She pulled back and forced her body into the door, and we heard it creak. She moved back further, but just as she pushed forward again, the door flew open, and she stumbled into the arms of a beautiful older woman.

I knew right away that she was most certainly nobility, if not royalty, just by her appearance alone. Her perfectly maintained eyebrows were arched high, and her green eyes were wide with surprise. She wore a light emerald dress, the underbust corset beneath it allowing it to fit her curves perfectly. She wore her dark auburn hair in an elaborate up-do to produce something elegant and lovely to match the finery of the dress.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed, "thank the Virgin you've come!" She helped Pat find her footing and tugged on the tunic my sister now wore to straighten it.

I stepped out of the wardrobe, clothed in a simple but elegant soft brown silk dress, the kind you'd expect to find in medieval times. I had a passing thought as to why Pat now wore men's clothing while I wore women's: she had been wearing jeans, and I, a skirt.

"I'm sorry?" Pat said, moving to stand closer to me.

"I prayed for someone to come and help," the woman swept her arm toward us for emphasis, "and here you are!"

Pat's brow wrinkled. "I don't understand. How are we supposed to help? And where are we?"

The woman gestured to a lovely carved table with comfortable-looking chairs. "Come and sit, and let me explain."

I looked around the room as we took our seats. Rich hanging tapestries decorated the room's stone walls, and intricately carved furniture filled it with warmth. Our table sat in front of a large window at least one story above a garden, dormant for the coming winter.

The woman paused beside her chair, looking at Pat expectantly. It took a moment for my sister to work out why: the lady waited for her to pull out her chair. My twin obliged. The lady's assumption about Pat's gender amused me. By the small smile I saw my sister trying to hide, I knew she felt the same.

Settled, the woman began. "You are in Camelot, the castle of Uther Pendragon. To put it plainly, we need an heir to the kingdom. Well, wait, what's not completely true. We need a ruler. My grandson, Arthur, has been found, and my son, Uther, has declared him the heir. But, the problem is the Druid Merlin has bespelled a task that will prove a man the legitimate ruler of England. Arthus failed this test, and now we don't know what to do."

My eyebrows arched, and Pat and I shared a knowing look before turning back to the lady. "You mean the sword and the stone, right?" I asked.

"Yes! See? You already know about the task! You are most assuredly here to help!" She turned to Pat. "You must pull the sword from the stone!"

Pat's eyes widened. "Wait. What? I can't do that!"

The woman cocked her head. "I don't understand. Of course, you must!"

Unbelieving, I couldn't help but conclude, The woman is insane!

Pat stared at her just a little too long, but she refused to look away. I got the impression that not many people intimidated her.

"You don't understand. I—" Pat stammered.

"No!" She slapped the table, the crack loud, echoing in the amble room. "You will do this, and that is final."

I leaned closer to her. "Maybe we should devise a way to make it look like Arthur succeeded? If he's the heir, shouldn't he be the ruler?"

The woman tsked, dismissing my comment with a flick of her hand. "Of course, he should. But that idiotic test says otherwise."

Pat scowled. "Maybe there's just something wrong with the stone? Have you had Merlin check it?"

"Merlin hasn't set foot in court in a decade," the woman explained, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't seem interested in leaving his little island up north. He writes that he likes 'communing with nature' or some such." She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and scowling.

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Pat

I glanced at Kat as a grin curled my lips. "Yes, druids often do like the whole nature thing."

The woman's mouth turned down to add to her sour expression when there came a knock at the door, and a young page in a crisp uniform entered the room. "Excuse me, Queen Mother. I—I didn't realize you had guests."

I don't know how she managed to scowl even more, but she did. "What do you need, Jeffery?"

He blushed and hurried through his message. "The King has requested your presence in the private dining room. He and the Mistress would like your company for the evening meal."

She brightened considerably. "How lovely! Yes, tell him I will come to dinner, but I have guests. I would appreciate an invitation for them as well. It is of great importance that he meet them."

The page bowed. "Yes, Ma'am. I will relay the message." He closed the door with a soft click behind him as he left.

"Well, let's get you two dressed for dinner! I'm assuming you have no clothes other than what you are wearing?"

Pat chuckled. "We traveled by wardrobe. No space for clothing. No space for much of anything."

She patted Pat's hand. "No need to worry about that. I'll take care of everything." She rose and pulled a cord to call servants to the room before opening the wardrobe and picking through the clothing.

"Excuse me, but we don't know your name," Kat said and waited expectantly.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed. "How rude of me. I am Marianne, mother of Uther Perndragon. And the two of you?"

"I am Pat, and this is Kat," I explained.

"Patrick and Katherine. Lovely names." She turned back to her task as the servants came in.

I opened my mouth to correct her, but Kat's sharp glare stopped me.

"Let them think what they want," she whispered. "I get the impression there could be trouble if they discover we are not what they want us to be."

I leaned in. "What about if I can't pull the sword from the stone?"

"What about if you do?" Kat retorted, using my logic argument against me.

The thought caught me off guard. I hadn't considered the possibility, and I furrowed my brow thinking about it. "I—I don't know. I don't think either could lead to anything good."

"Right," my sister agreed, "so we might as well just go along with their plan for now."

"Okay. I see your point."

Kat chuckled. She always found my adherence to reason amusing. Of course, I found her touchy-feely existence laughable in many instances. Together, we made quite the pair.

Marianne pulled a gown from the wardrobe and held it up to Kat, eyeing its fit and crimson shade. "Yes, this matches your coloring perfectly. You'll wear this one."

Kat pursed her lips, and I could tell that being ordered to wear something irritated her. She expressed herself with her clothing; I knew it had to gall her to have to conform. But, she kept her mouth shut, staying true to her plan.

A servant brought a tunic for me. I looked around. "Umm... is there somewhere we can have a little privacy?"

"Of course!" Marianne indicated a screen in the corner of the room. "Will your... companion be helping you?"

"Yes, she will, thank you." It wasn't quite the truth, of course. I just wanted to talk to Kat. "I will help her in return." I didn't miss the raised eyebrow the Queen Mother cocked in my direction. I chose to ignore it.

We retreated, along with our armfuls of clothes, to the area behind the screen. I quickly removed the belt and tunic I wore and donned the tunic the servant gave me for dinner, for once grateful for my lack of curves.

"We need to find a way for this to turn out right," I whispered.

"What do you mean?" Kat asked, draping her gown over the edge of the screen to help me.

"Arthur. He has to be king, or we change history forever!"

"Hmm. Would that be such a bad thing?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Haven't you ever seen Back to the Future? When Marty tried to change the past, his family started to fade from the picture? If we do the same, we might not even exist! Or anyone we know!"

I rewrapped the belt around my waist, and Kat showed me a decorative way to work the buckle. It added just the right touch.

We traded places, and I began to help her out of her dress, working it off over her head. It was a lot more involved than my tunic, that was for sure.

"So, what do you suggest? How do we preserve history?" she asked as she shook the dress, then placed it over the other edge of the screen.

I lifted the new dress and held it up high so she could work the hem up and climb up underneath it to put it on. "Well, it's like we said... maybe we need to make it so that Arthur seems to be the rightful ruler."

Layers of fabric muffled Kat's voice. "And how do we do that?"

I scowled and sighed. "I don't know. Not yet. But, I'll figure something out."

She nodded as the dress settled onto her shoulders. "You're very good at that kind of thing. I'll follow your lead." She fluffed the skirt, and we pulled everything into place. Fashion didn't excite me much, but even I had to admit the dress looked stunning on Kat.

We stepped out from behind the screen, and the Queen Mother scrutinized us. She twirled her finger, indicating she wanted us to turn around. We complied, if reluctantly.

"Yes! Good! That will do. Now, I will leave you here while I get ready. I will return within the hour to fetch you."

With her exit, we found ourselves alone.

"I think we need to test the wardrobe and see if we have a way home." I opened the large cabinet and parted the clothes. The back seemed solid. "Do you think we need the spell again?"

Kat thought for a moment before answering. "No, Beatrice didn't need one to come back through the mirror."

"Maybe if we both get back in there and shut the door, the portal will open again?"

She brightened. "Yes! Let's give it a shot."

We stuffed ourselves, along with Kat's dress, into the wardrobe, a feat that proved harder than it seemed. I pulled the door shut, and we waited. Kat knocked on the back, but it remained solid wood from the sound.

"Pat?" Kat whispered.

I could hear an edge of panic in her voice. I worked to make mine calm. "Yeah?"

"I think we're trapped! What are we going to do?"

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