The sun shone brightly through the window of Christie's bedroom the next morning, awakening her.

Where am I? she thought sleepily.

Then it all flooded back to her. Logan telling her about Libraria, accessing—and using—the portal in her room, meeting Aoife, then Ríona, and finally Lord Castfarne, finding out more about her dad (and mom).

It can't be a dream, can it? I hope it's not! This place is incredible.

Her thoughts were broken into by a knock on the door and a female voice calling, "My lady, have you woken yet?"

After a moment to comprehend that the person knocking on her door was her lady-in-waiting, she answered, "I'm awake, Ofelia. Come in."

The woman pushed open the door. Her blond hair was done in a half-up, half-down style with a braid down the middle. "Good morning, my lady. I presume you did sleep well?"

"Yes, I did," the girl replied.

"That is good. I have come to prepare you for the day."

Ofelia held out a simple dark blue satin long-sleeved dress with blue-dyed fur on the ends of the sleeves. "Your night dress will serve as your chemise, my lady. Your ladyship must remain fashionable yet modest."

Once again, in a very short amount of time, Christie was dressed and sitting at the vanity with her hair styled in a fishtail braid that went some inches below her shoulders. She had to admit the lady-in-waiting possessed skill in hair styling. Once Ofelia had finished, the teen was escorted to the great hall for breakfast. There, Ríona eagerly greeted her with a cheery "good morrow."The young noblewoman wore a bright red dress with a runic design lining both sides. The middle of the bodice was a darker brown that faded into a light cream color. It certainly was simpler than the one she'd worn the previous night. Aoife sat next to her sister, reading a book. When she noticed the siblings' arrival, she closed the book, stood up, and smiled. Lord Castfarne then spoke.

"We are all here? That is good. Breakfast shall commence promptly. First, let us thank our Creator for granting us another fair morn."

All heads bowed. Christie's conscience bothered her. Despite claiming to be a Christian, she had barely prayed. She hadn't even given it a thought at breakfast and lunch the previous day.

I'll do better, Lord, I promise.

"O Lord our God, we praise and exalt Thee. We thank Thee for granting us another blessed day. Bless the food which we are about to dine upon, and bless the cooks as well. We ask all this in Thy sacred name, amen," he prayed.

Right after that, the kitchen staff once again began to pour in. There was white bread, fish, and meat. Christie could not believe it. Neither could Logan.

Seriously, how much of an appetite do these people have? she wondered

However, both of them ate till they could no longer even take the tiniest nibble. The fish was excellently prepared, so tender and flaky that it fell apart when they bit into it. The meat was neither too tender nor too tough, with the right amount of juiciness. And the bread! Oh, the bread was culinary excellence! Taken directly from the oven, it was warm, soft, and fluffy and left Christie craving more and more. The loaf was so perfect she didn't even need butter, which usually was copiously smeared upon any slice of bread she encountered. (She was a bit of a picky eater.) Logan, on the other hand, didn't need to be told twice to eat his fill. He'd immediately dug into his breakfast, polishing off at least two helpings.

"I see that you are enjoying your meal," commented Aoife. "Tell me: are not our cooks the best in the land, or at least in our part of the kingdom?"

"I do believe they are very talented, for this meal exceeded my expectations," Christie answered.

"I agree with my sister," Logan added.

Aoife beamed. "If I were not a noblewoman, I would have chosen to be a cook by trade, if only to sample what is being made in our humble kitchen."

The rest of the merry party laughed at her confession.

I wish I could be in the kitchen. That's my happy place.

"Sister dearest, you already have sampled their cooking in times past. I remember when you were ten and I six, you stole into the kitchen and made off with a piece of dough from that day's loaves. The head cook certainly was angry!" Ríona laughed at the memory.

Aoife shook her head, still smiling.

"It is time that we leave the great hall now," Lord Castfarne stated. "Aoife, you must meet with your dancing tutor, and Ríona, I believe you have to undergo Latin studies with Master Flanners. Logan and Christiana, I shall have you occupied somehow. By the following week, you, like my daughters, shall soon have tutors. I must assure your mother and father that you are receiving a praiseworthy education."

"My lord, if I may ask you a question, did you know our mother as well as you did our father?" Christie wanted to know once the Castfarne sisters had left.

"If you please, simply call me Justus or Lord Justus. My lord or Lord Castfarne is much too formal. As for your question, Christiana, I did not know your mother as well as I ought. She was closer to my sister and spoke naught a word to me except 'hello.'"

"Then, Lord Justus, could you call me Christie? I despise Christiana."

Lord Justus shook his head sadly. "Ah, child, if only you knew what your name meant. Then you would not despise it so."

"It's long and super formal!" she protested, forgetting her courtly speech.

"As you wish, Christie."

Satisfied, she grinned and shot her brother a dirty look before gathering her skirts in a ladylike fashion. Then she declared that she was ready for her studies. Logan groaned while the nobleman smiled a distant smile.

Probably remembering Dad.

She wondered what it was like to lose a childhood best friend only to meet his kids at least a decade later. It most likely was a mixture of joy and pain.

"Christie," Lord Justus's voice interrupted, "do you know how to sew, by any chance? I would prefer for you to attempt some needlework to pass the time until the midday meal. Logan, would you like to receive equestrian training from my head horseman?"

No fair! I ride, not Logan! But this is a different world, so I guess they have a bit of a different culture. I'm not going to say anything about this, though. I do need to practice sewing anyway.

Out loud, she said, "Yes, I do sew, although I am not very good at it."

God, please give me the patience to get through this morning. I am going to need it desperately.

Logan's face lit up. "I'd love to have training!" He casually left out the fact that he'd only ridden a horse once in his entire life.

"So be it. Christie, I shall have some fabric and an embroidery hoop sent up so you may practice some embroidery. Logan, if you shall follow me, I shall take you to the stables."

The siblings parted ways. Each headed to their respective assignment. In a couple of minutes, someone gently knocked on the door. She went to open it. A young woman stood at the entrance with some white fabric attached to a wooden embroidery hoop and a box filled with several spools of thread in just about every color.

"Here you go, my lady." The servant deposited the supplies into Christie's arms and curtsied. She then scurried away.

"Oh well. Looks like I'm stuck doing this till lunch, whenever that's going to be."

The thirteen-year-old settled herself down on the couch, picked up the needle kept in the box, threaded it with forest green thread, and began to sew. Every delicate stitch seemed to take hours.

She yawned. This has got to be the most boring thing possible. Guess I should make the best of it and make something pretty. Oh, and make something that won't make Mom die of a heart attack because my stitches are more crooked than the Crooked Old Man in that old nursery rhyme.

Humming a folk song softly, she picked her needle back up and forced herself to continue with her endeavor.

~~~

Lunch soon came, and Christie was more than ready to take a break. Her fingers ached from all the sewing she'd done. The stitches, surprisingly, were rather straight, which pleased her. Ofelia had come to fetch her a few minutes earlier to escort her to the banquet hall, and now they were walking down one of the winding corridors Aoife had mentioned their first night.

"Ofelia, why did you decide you wanted to be a lady-in-waiting?" Christie began. "It seems like much work."

"Indeed, my lady, 'tis. Yet 'tis an honorable way of earning bread for my ma and da and my sister. That is why I chose to undertake this task."

The rest of the walk was silent. Soon, they reached the banquet hall. The Castfarne sisters were already there, but there was no sign of Logan. Christie smirked. At last, she'd beat her brother to a meal.

"Greetings, Christiana!" Ríona sang out.

"Oh, Christiana! I did not know you had arrived." Aoife smiled.

"If you please, girls, call me by my nickname, Christie," the youngest girl requested.

"Certainly!" they both replied.

Ríona wound the end of her braid around her finger. "When I was ten years of age, I declared my name henceforth to be Ri. That lasted until the day of my fourteenth birthday."

"I was partly to blame," Aoife confessed.

Christie tried to smother her giggles but failed miserably. The beautiful, graceful, proper Ríona going by Ri was something she'd never have imagined.

Just then, Lord Justus, accompanied by Logan, entered the room.

"Hello, Christie," Logan said. He was sweaty and smelled noticeably of horse.

"Greetings, brother of mine," she replied. "All went well?"

"Indeed so. I am much tired, however."

"As can be expected," commented the lord. "I suppose your muscles ache most terribly?"

The boy nodded.

"Then, my good lad, I recommend you put on clean attire. You stink of horse and sweat. Your muscles shall recuperate eventually."

"Yes, Lord Justus."

A few minutes later, Logan emerged from his room wearing a dark green tunic and brown pants. Around his waist hung a dark brown leather scabbard. The hilt of a sword peeked out. He looked a bit like Aragorn from The Lord of the Rings as Strider, down to his dark brown hair.

"We are all here?" Lord Justus asked. "Then let us give thanks to the Lord for our food.

~~~

The rest of the day passed by in a whirlwind of activity. Christie could barely keep her eyes open at dinnertime. However, something was nagging her.

How on earth are we going to get back home? It's been two, or maybe three, days since we arrived here, and unless time works differently in Libraria, our parents are going to be super worried. Nothing I can do, though. I'm just hoping we get some action here. It's getting a bit dull.

After dinner, Christie stumbled her way over to her room, undressed, and flopped onto the canopy bed. She was soon fast asleep.

However, as she lay there slumbering peacefully, little did she know that her wish would soon be granted—but not in the way she expected.