"Here we are," announced Christie's lady-in-waiting as she stopped in front of a room twice the size of the teen's back home.

She opened the door. The spacious bedroom held a large canopy bed with white silk curtains and spotless ivory sheets. A white pillow sat by the headboard, carefully fluffed. The wooden headboard was hand-carved with an ornate pattern of swirls and flowers. The bed seemed so soft and comfortable. Christie wanted to flop down and sleep until the next morning. Turning her eyes away from the bed, she took in the rest of her room. A couch, or at least what looked like a couch to her twenty-first-century eyes, stood in a corner, red with golden tassels. Next to it was a wooden vanity with a polished mirror. It had the same carvings as her new bed.

I could get used to this, she mused. But Mom and Dad—well, they'd get worried if I never came back. Sure, Logan could tell them I went to Libraria, but still—oh, what am I thinking? I need to listen to my lady-in-waiting.

"This way, my lady." Ofelia's gentle, patient voice broke into her thoughts.

Christie breezed across her new room into a bathroom, where the lady was waiting for her. In the center of the room was positioned a large bathtub—large enough to fit at least two people! It was porcelain with a pattern similar to that of the canopy bed.

They really must like that pattern here. I wonder if it holds any special significance. I'll ask Rona later.

"Now, I will need you to undress," stated Ofelia. "If you feel more comfortable, I may leave the room. But I must aid you to bathe."

"Very well," replied Christie.

Closing the door behind her, she began to prepare herself for her bath.

~~~

Sometime later, she emerged dressed in a purple velvet gown with gold edging on the long bell sleeves. A golden satin stripe with a runic design ran down the center. A golden emblem adorned the bodice. In other words, it was the most beautiful dress she'd ever worn.

"Oh, Ofelia! It fits perfectly!" she squealed.

Ofelia smiled. "I am glad to hear that, my lady. Come. Your brother—and Lord Castfarne—await your arrival."

Christie's heart kicked into high gear. She was certain she could hear it from miles away.

Oh, what if Lord Castfarne isn't anything that Aoife described him as? Maybe this is all a dream. A fantastical dream, for sure, but a good one at that. No, it couldn't be. Shut up, Christie. Aoife wouldn't lie to us! she argued with herself.

"Christiana? Is everything well?" Logan's voice interrupted her mental debate.

"Yes, Logan, everything is well," she reassured him.

"I think not, dear sister. Your face betrays your true feelings." He reached out a light-skinned hand to touch his sister's cheek.

"I am merely worried. That is all. Thank you, brother."

Logan ran his hands through his dark brown hair, his nervous habit. "I understand."

The siblings walked down the hall to Lord Castfarne's reception room. Their servants would occasionally glance back to check on their young charges. Butterflies filled Christie's stomach, and a few sweat droplets ran down her pale skin.

I need to distract myself.

She turned her attention to Logan's attire. He wore a forest green, long-sleeved tunic with gold detailing down the center. A matching belt with gold ovals hung on his waist. In it was tucked a dagger with a similar sheath. He had forest green pants as well. Flashing his trademark smirk, he looked more handsome than ever.

"Dear Logan, with attire such as this, you shall have every lady in this land swooning over your appearance. When do you intend to court a pretty maid?" she teased.

Logan turned bright red. "Christiana! You must remember Alexis! My heart belongs to her, and her alone."

Christie grinned. She was enjoying her brother's discomfort. "Why, then, you must commission a portrait! With such a handsome, noble youth, she and her father will not be able to say 'nay'." Logan's crush on Alexis, his sweetheart from kindergarten, was no secret in the Morris home.

"Oh, stop it!"

"My lord and lady, hold your peace now. We are approaching His Lordship's room of reception as we speak." That was Gormal.

Christie quickly cut her laughter short, glaring at Logan. "Brother dearest, we may resume this topic at a later time. As for the moment, we must conduct ourselves like the nobles we are. I want none of your mischief at the moment."

Logan nodded, smirking.

Moments later, Ofelia declared, "We have arrived. I will alert His Lordship."

The lady-in-waiting knocked on the polished wooden door. On it were carved some runes in what seemed to be an ancient language.

"Here be the hall of Lord Justus Castfarne, subject of King Alastair the Honorable of Libraria," read Christie without knowing how she was able to.

That's impossible! I've never read runes before!

"Enter," a deep male voice commanded.

The door swung open, and the party of four entered.

"When in the presence of His Lordship, you must show deference. My lady, you must be curt. My lord, you must bow," whispered Gormal.

The children nodded. They reached the center of the hall. On a richly ornamented chair sat a middle-aged man with piercing blue eyes and fair hair. His skin was pale, like Aoife's and Rona's.

That must be Lord Justus Castfarne, Aoife's and Rona's father.

"I thank you, Gormal and Ofelia, for escorting these youths here, but now I must request you leave the room. I desire to speak to them in private," he ordered.

"Yes, my lord." The servants bowed and curtsied before hurriedly leaving the room.

Gormal's instructions rang in Christie's ears. "Bow, Logan!"

She dipped into a graceful curtsy. Logan bowed with ease.

"Hello, children," Lord Castfarne said. His tone of voice was soft and welcoming, quite different from the one he had used with his servants earlier. "It has come to my attention that you claim to be the children of Lord Conrad Morris. Is this true?"

"Yes, my lord," Logan answered.

"I never fathomed that I would meet Conrad's children." The nobleman sighed. "Yet God has answered my prayers. Here you are, standing in front of me."

"You knew our father?" Logan blurted.

"Knew him? We were the best of friends! When we were youths, your father would frequently visit me. During my childhood, he was my only playmate. As I grew older, he would accompany me on the hunt. We were inseparable."

Logan and Christie stared at the man claiming to be their father's best friend. Finally, Christie spoke.

"Dad never mentioned anyone named 'Justus'!"

Lord Castfarne did not even raise an eyebrow at the girl's outburst. "Perhaps he modified his name to something that would best suit your culture. Did your father ever mention, ah, Justin to you?"

"Yes!" Logan exclaimed. "He once told me that his childhood best friend was named Justin."

"Once? I suppose he wanted to remove all ties to Libraria, then."

Christie looked confused but said nothing. She remembered Logan mentioning that fateful morning that they were now "of age.".

Did Dad hide it from us to protect us?

"I must not reminisce any longer. Now you are here. That is all that matters." He sighed once again, but cheered up quickly. "I bid you welcome to this fair land! Stay as long as you are willing!"

"Thank you, my lord!" Christie curtsied, beaming.

"Now, I must release you. Rona shall become suspicious if I keep you too long." Lord Castfarne chuckled. "Gormal, Ofelia!"

The door opened, and in rushed the two servants. "Yes, my lord?"

"Take these youths to the great hall. Gormal, alert the kitchen staff to prepare a place for these two. Ofelia, tell the Lady Aoife and the Lady Rona's ladies-in-waiting to commence dressing them for the banquet tonight," he ordered.

"My lord, if I may be so bold as to speak, are we to find different attire for the youths?" meekly asked Gormal.

"Nay. Their garments shall be most proper for tonight's banquet. But I desire that the young Lady Morris have her hair styled in the fashion of my daughters."

With a bow and curtsy, the gentleman-in-waiting and the lady-in-waiting escorted Logan and Christie out of the room.

Once back in her bedroom, Christie couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. A banquet! Lord Castfarne must be treating us like honored guests!

"Sit down, my lady," Ofelia said kindly. "I must prepare you for the banquet."

In a few minutes, Christie's usually snarled brown hair had been woven into a thick, intricate braid.

The girl loved it immediately. "Oh, Ofelia, 'tis beautiful!"

Ofelia smiled at the praise. "Come along now, my lady. 'Tis nearly time."

Following her lady-in-waiting, Christie stepped into what had to be the largest dining hall she'd ever viewed in all her thirteen years.

Gee, this place is huge! she thought.

As soon as she saw Rona, she smiled and waved. The ginger waved back. Noticeably missing was Aoife.

Logan must've noticed the older Castfarne sister's absence because he inquired, "Rona, where is your sister?"

"She is with Father. He desired to speak with her about an important matter," she answered.

This answer satisfied Christie. Just then, Aoife stepped into the room. She wore a maroon gown with green sleeves. It had a gold belt of ovals and detailing done in green fabric. A gold necklace hung around her neck. Her hair was styled in the same elegant braid as Christie and Rona. Lord Castfarne followed her.

"I see you have found your way to the great hall," Aoife commented. "That gladdens me greatly. The castle is massive and vast, with countless winding passages. Indeed, it's more like a maze! I feared perhaps you had become lost."

"Nay, Aoife, for Ofelia and Gormal guided us well." That was Christie.

Aoife smiled. The hall was festooned with banners displaying the Castfarne coat of arms. A long wooden table stood in the middle of the hall. Candles lit the room. To Christie, it seemed as if King Arthur and his knights would magically appear.

"'Tis time for the banquet!" announced Lord Castfarne.

At the sound of his voice, servants began streaming out of the kitchen platters of some sort of vegetable and meat soup.

Noticing the Morris siblings' confused looks, Ríona hissed, "Tis pottage, the first course of the banquet. You will assuredly enjoy it. Our cooks utilize only the most perfect ingredients."

A platter of the soup, along with a hunk of white bread, was set before Christie, who eyed it nervously. Logan cast her a look she interpreted as "Please help me."

Their secret suffering was interrupted by Lord Castfarne declaring, "Let us thank God for His blessings to us."

All present, including Christie and Logan, bowed their heads respectfully.

"O Almighty God, we thank Thee this day for the blessings which Thou hast granted us. I thank Thee for sending the children of Conrad to me this day and answering my plea. Bless this banquet. In Thy holy Name we pray, amen," he prayed. "Now, let us eat!"

Logan grabbed his hunk of bread and dunked it into the soup. "Here goes nothing," he muttered. Biting into it, his face transformed from one of agony and dread to one of delight. He then announced his approval.

Christie, on the other hand, was more reluctant, but after her first experimental bite, she too enjoyed it. Soon, the course was cleared away, and the kitchen servants returned with an array of meat, including roasted venison, veal, and beef.

The boy licked his lips expectantly. "Mm, barbecue."

The youngest girl giggled. "Oh, dearest brother."

The meat, of course, was excellent. Next arrived the main course—a roasted peacock with its iridescent feathers stuck into the meat.

"Is it not beautiful?" queried Ríona. "Father says 'tis a delicacy reserved for only the noblest. The king has been most generous with us, for he sent us twenty of his finest peacocks for our table."

"Yes, Ríona, it is indeed beautiful," replied the awe-struck Christie, "yet does it taste as good as it appears?"

"Certainly! Roast peacock is my favorite," the fifteen-year-old noblewoman assured her.

Taking a deep breath, Christie took a bite of the fowl when it was placed before her. "It has the flavor of turkey!" Soon, her platter was empty.

"I knew you would enjoy its taste," Ríona whispered.

"Ríona, do not speak with your mouth full. 'Tis most impolite," Aoife chided.

She swallowed her food before promptly apologizing to her older sister.

"I must know," Logan began. "Where is your mother, and why is she not here?"

The sisters quieted suddenly. Aoife seemed to be holding back tears. At last, Ríona managed to choke out, "She died in childbirth."

"Oh," was all that he managed to say. "I apologize for my rash question."

Christie glared at him. He blushed furiously.

"You are forgiven, Logan." Lord Castfarne's voice was soothing and unusually calm for a man who had lost his wife. Yet his face bore a pained look. "'Twas fifteen years ago, the day of birth of my younger daughter. Enid was a frail lady, yet she was obstinate. That was the cause of her demise. I...ought to have requested a midwife. But I did not. I was not even in Libraria at the time! I was away on a ship. The news reached me by courier. 'Twas a miracle she survived. I thank God and His Son for that miracle each day I live."

"I was that child." Tears streamed down the younger Castfarne girl's cheeks. "Mother died bringing me into this world."

"Hush, now, daughter," Lord Castfarne comforted. "All is well."

In a few minutes, Ríona had pulled herself together, and the banquet was able to resume. Five servants entered the great hall carrying dessert. Christie perked up. (She had a bit of a sweet tooth.) There were cream custard tarts, pine nuts combined with toasted bread and honey with spices mixed in, and something that looked suspiciously like a medieval version of poached pears. All four teens snatched at least one of each sweet, biting into them greedily. Even Logan, who preferred salty foods over sweet, had to admit that these desserts were the best he'd ever tasted.

"Our sweetmeats are famed in all of Libraria," Aoife said with a hint of pride.

When will the food be over? I'm getting full. Christie thought.

Her question was soon answered as more servants entered with what she hoped was the final course. Unfortunately for the already-stuffed teenager, it looked—and tasted—just as good as the previous three courses. She was still incredulous at the fact that she'd eaten a full four-course banquet—without utensils!

Logan stifled a yawn. "My lord, if it so pleases you, may my sister and I retire to our quarters? We are most weary."

Lord Castfarne's face fell. "I had hoped you were not as weary, but if you so wish, you may."

"I am not as tired. I shall remain with Aoife and Ríona," Christie said.

This seemed to cheer up her new friends' father, which pleased the girl.

"Father, may I show Christie the rest of our castle?" piped up Ríona.

He nodded his approval. The younger Castfarne girl grinned and instructed Christie to follow her.

Right as they left, she noticed her brother speaking to Aoife. His eyes were bright and eager, and a bit of color had spread into his cheeks. Maybe she'll make him forget his crush on Alexis. They're only four years apart. But she's older than him. Logan would never agree to that.

Sometime later (Christie wasn't exactly sure how long her tour took), both girls returned to the great hall.

"After the confrontation, Aoife requested that he never show his face again," Ríona recounted with a large smile on her face. "That stable boy—well, he was very upset." Her lilting Scottish accent made her story even more enjoyable.

This caused Christie to burst into giggles. "Tell me more!"

"Ríona, you had better not be tellin' that story again!" Aoife looked noticeably embarrassed. Her speech had slipped from the prim-and-proper courtly tone to something more untamed and casual. Her accent, the same as her sister's, was more noticeable as well.

"Why, sister dear, it do be a very funny story! And our guest seems to enjoy it too."

The American teen listened to them eagerly. She could hear them shouting in their musical accents and still think they sounded beautiful. It was also rather refreshing to learn that the more refined lingo they used was only for court.

"Ye little—"

"That will be enough for this night," Lord Castfarne interrupted. "And lest you have forgotten, we are not yet alone. You have promised that you will not use your casual speech in front of the guests. You are not setting a praiseworthy example of your behavior, also."

Both girls apologized and resumed their "court dialect". The Morris siblings looked at each other, trying to withhold their laughter.

"I apologize, Logan, Christiana, for my daughters' behavior. This usually does not occur. And as you could most certainly tell, they are true citizens of this fair land of Libraria—down to their accents. I fear they inherited nearly everything from their beloved mother and received near naught from me." He shook his head.

"There is nothing to apologize about, Lord Castfarne. We are only youths, not visiting emissaries," Logan assured him.

"My lord, if I may be so bold to ask you a question, did you know our mother as well? Logan told me 'twas our mother who discovered Libraria. He never mentioned our father." Christie wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"In truth, both your father and mother discovered it. But your mother was the first to enter," he explained.

Both kids nodded their heads in understanding. Logan let out a loud yawn, while Christie rubbed her eyes wearily.

"Father, if you please, may our guests be granted permission to retire for the night?" Aoife begged. "They will be asleep if you keep them much longer."

Lord Castfarne relented to his oldest daughter's plea and ordered the siblings' servants to escort them to their chambers. Gratefully, the brother and sister trailed after the servants, barely managing to walk without stumbling. After bidding each other good night, both parted their separate ways.

In Christie's room, Ofelia helped her young mistress undress and laid out a crisp white nightgown for her. The girl eyed it gladly.

"Here, my lady. I shall aid you," the lady-in-waiting said.

In moments, Christie was wearing the linen nightdress.

It's so comfy and light!

Barely managing to keep her eyes open, she crawled into the canopy bed and was soon fast asleep.