Emery stared at Cathbad for a heavy moment, and then she burst out laughing. All three of the others could only watch her in bewilderment. But Emery couldn't stop herself. She was practically doubled over, and for a moment, Oonagh feared she'd gone mad.

"What have you done to her?" the freckled girl cried to the druid.

"I?"

"You have your lunatic charms! I know it! If she goes mad and Lord Cuchulain finds out I've brought her here—"

Cathbad's face fell. "Cuchulain doesn't know she's here?"

"Of course not! Do you think he'd have let her come?"

"This . . . is not good." The man grabbed hold of Emery and shook her. "What ails you?"

Catching her breath, eyes shining, Emery half-laughed, half-sobbed. "It's just--I--I can't even go a week without--without you trying to tell me something terrible!"

The druid let go of her and exchanged a glance with Oonagh; neither of them knew what exactly to do. But Tess did. She approached Emery and put an arm around her shoulder. "Come on," she said. "You're fine. This is just nonsense. You know Cat--so dramatic."

Cathbad sulked at that but said nothing.

"Tess! I just can't even. They've taken everything away from me and thrown us here where we don't fit at all!" Emery was practically crying at that point, having pent up her frustration inside since she'd arrived. "And all the bad stuff was supposed to be done! I just--I just wanted to come here to see him and have a good time, and he's going on about some new stalker, when I haven't even figured out what to do about the first one--"

"Shh, shh." Tess stroked Emery's hair and led her to a little bench that rested against the outer wall of the druid's cottage. "You don't mean all that. Everything is going to be all right because I'm here with you. Nobody's stalking you."

Emery knew that; in fact, she'd felt disingenuous using the word, stalker. She hadn't thought of Cullen as a stalker in a long time. He hadn't lied to her about any of that curse, about her being married to him--it'd all been true. Of course he'd tried to find her again, even if Emery couldn't be whoever he'd known in the past.

"Cathbad didn't mean anything scary, right?" Tess looked at the druid, something slightly cold in her eyes.

The man felt scolded, and it confused him. He wanted to be neither dishonest nor theatrical in his response, but there seemed to be no other option.

Fortunately, Oonagh cut in. "The Dark Man is scary," she said, biting her lip in thought, a bit vacant in her gaze. "Fear Doirich, he's called." She looked to the druid. "You're sure of it? He's not traveled these parts in . . . well, ever, to my knowing. At least, not since I've been here."

Emery had regained her composure, by that point. She shook off Tess's arm. "Do I really want to know what this Dark Man is?"

"No, Lady. I think it best you do not, now. I shall tell my Lord, and he will know how best--"

"You will not tell him. I can handle whatever you need to say, so say it."

Cathbad didn't appear convinced, but with the three young women waiting for his answer, he relented. "The Dark Man's purpose is obscured, in my castings. I know only that he seeks you, Emery, though I cannot say why. He may visit you in dreams--have you had any disturbing night haunts?"

"No," Emery raised her shoulders with a slight shiver. "Nothing that would mean anything to me." She'd dreamt only of peaceful meadows and her previous life. "If I've had any nightmares, I don't remember them."

"Ah. That is good news, then. Perhaps his design is merely to speak with you."

"About what?"

"Who can say? But I will tell you this--if any man approaches you, particularly one whose intentions you deem questionable, do not speak with him, and certainly do not take his hand if he offers it."

"You see?" Emery reiterated. "You see how ridiculous it is? For weeks you told me to trust a questionable man and take his hand when he offered it, and now you're telling me not to trust a questionable man and refuse his hand if he offers it. It's crazy!"

Cathbad rubbed his forehead. "I do see how my advice can seem preposterous, but I have only your happiness in mind."

"No, you've always had his happiness in mind."

At last, Tess softened toward the druid. "That's not really fair, Em," she said, taking hold of her friend's hand. "Cat's done so much to help."

Had Emery been paying attention, she might have seen the glance her friend and the druid shared, as if they genuinely appreciated one another. As it was, though, Emery knew she was being ungrateful and was ashamed. "I'm sorry, all of you," she said tiredly. "I wanted this to be something of an adventure, and I've just spent ten minutes complaining. I know how much all of you have done for me, and I am thankful. Cat, I really want the time to talk to you, though, alone, away from Dun-Dealgan. I have so many questions about everything."

The druid turned his eyes toward his own feet, clasped his hands behind his back. "I'd--I'd think that you'd find Lord Cuchulain can answer your questions better than--"

"No. I don't want to talk to him."

Cathbad sighed. "Yes, Lady. I understand. But--"

"No, Cat. I'm much more comfortable talking to you. I'll come visit another night, all right? Soon? You and Oonagh don't have to come, Tess. I won't make you. The forest is a little creepy, and I don't want the two of you getting into trouble because of me. But Cat, let's say tomorrow night, all right? Will you be here?"

"Yes . . . but--"

"I don't know how I'll get out, but I'm determined."

He sighed. "I'll come for you. Please, don't leave on your own, again."

Emery raised an eyebrow. "You'll come get me? Really? Is that a promise?"

Cathbad already appeared to have regretted his words, but it was too late. "Yes, Emery. I will come after nightfall. Just be ready in your dwelling. I'd prefer to be quick."

Emery stood and adjusted her cloak. While this clothing was warm to the point of making her sweat, it was a little itchy. "Would it be better to talk now? We can stay longer."

"No. I have much work tonight. I will take you home briefly. But . . ." His eyes went to Tess. "Lady Tess, if you would allow me to speak with you for a moment?"

Tess rose from the bench and, with something of an impish glance over her shoulder at the other girls, followed Cathbad into his hut. Oonagh and Emery turned to one another, faces alight with amusement. They wondered aloud what the two could possibly be talking about, but Emery had a sense that the druid was attempting to explain the animal entrails. Tess was a definite tenderheart. Emery didn't particularly like the sight of blood and guts, but she could handle it better than Tess. The two girls would have to get used to such things, Emery knew; this was a violent and superstitious world--they'd no doubt see much more blood before they left it.

Taking a bit of a step, craning her neck just enough, Emery managed to peek in through the window in the door, and she could see the two speaking. They were a little too close to one another in Emery's opinion, and she wasn't sure she approved of the way Cathbad touched Tess's cheek and smiled the way he did (not that it was any of her business, of course), and when Oonagh tripped over a stone and gave a startled yelp before throwing a wink Emery's way, Emery was grateful that it brought Tess and Cathbad back out into the open.

"Now!" the druid cried, fastening his cloak around his neck. "I believe I can fit you all, so that I don't have to leave anyone alone, here. I'll drop you just inside the gate, near the animal pens; we're less likely to be seen."

Oonagh and Emery stood at Cathbad's left while Tess stood to his right, ignoring the look Emery gave her when Cathbad wrapped his arm around her waist, and within a moment, the druid had them back inside the hillfort, remarkably close to where he'd promised to drop them. Commending his improved accuracy, Emery reminded Cathbad of his promise before following the other two into the shadowy village.

The girls moved as quietly as possible, which wasn't difficult; their clothing was thick and soft. They wore nothing that jingled or rattled. A light rain had begun to fall--or accumulate, more, as the mists seemed to permeate rather than head straight to the ground. That aided their secrecy. And the vicinity was poorly-lit. Everything was poorly lit, here. It seemed to Emery that everyone relied on celestial light, the moon at night and the sun during the day. Otherwise, there were torches at the gate and fires within the homesteads, but darkness ruled everywhere in between. Some of the animals made snuffling or lowing noises as they passed, and a dog barked once, but their movements were largely unnoticed as they slipped between roundhouses and garden plots. When they reached the center of the fort, where there rose a tower and sunk a pit for grain storage, the girls knew they hadn't much farther to go. It was well that Oonagh led the way. As logically as Dun-Dealgan was arranged, so much of it still looked the same to Tess and Emery, and they would've gone roundabout in circles if left on their own.

At last Cullen's raised roundhouse came into view, dark black against the deep blue, white-flecked night sky. Unlike almost all of the other buildings, it had at least two windows that could be seen when looking at it head-on; maybe there was another at the back. Emery assumed Cullen wanted to be able to view the interior of the fort and the surrounding land, which made sense--easier to see impending danger. But that also must've meant his roundhouse was all the more drafty.

A cold house for a cold man, she thought.

Just as she was thinking it, the girls reached their own door, as their house sat at the foot of Cullen's, and though Tess and Oonagh entered first, they'd hardly gone in before they turned around and came back out, bumping into Emery, who was merely trying to follow them. "What's the matter with you? Go on!"

Oonagh looked terrified and turned away, biting her knuckles.

"What's wrong with her?" Emery asked, astounded.

"You'd better go on," Tess told her, concerned. "Em, he's inside."

It took half a second for Emery to understand what Tess meant. "No way! I'm not going if he's in there!"

"Please!" Tess begged. "He wants to talk to you. He won't leave us alone until you go in there. Just--just go! He can't hurt you; we're standing right here!"

Emery's stomach dropped. "That's not what I'm worried about . . ." She knew Tess was right, though. She couldn't force her friends to stand outside in the cold, tired and increasingly damp. So, taking a deep breath, knowing she couldn't avoid him forever, Emery pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the roundhouse.

Thankfully, the place was spacious enough. It wasn't as large as the full-family roundhouses, but Emery was able to keep a good distance from the man as she inched her way around the perimeter, kept toward the wall rather than neared the fire, where Cullen stood. She avoided looking directly at him, instead taking note of his semi-casual (if that were a clothing descriptor, in this time) attire. He wore the tunic and breeches that all the men wore, belt and sandals. But he had none of the weaponry and battle regalia that she'd seen on him the last time they'd spoken, when they'd crossed through the portal. He wore only a woolen cloak, as she did.

She wore a cloak! And a dress! She was accoutered as they were. Emery wondered what he thought of that, and then she internally scolded herself for caring.

"Where did you go?" he asked her. No greeting of any kind, just the implied chastisement, as if he were her parent.

"We . . . we were out for a walk."

He was turned her way, but she refused to look at him. "You usually sleep at this time. I was worried."

Emery stopped inching, paused with her back against the wall near the weaving loom nobody used. She wished she could melt into the wattle and daub. "You don't have to worry--" She caught what he'd said, felt ire rise in her. "Do you check on me, every night? Have you been coming in here?"

Cullen didn't answer her question. Instead, a fraught moment passed, and then he said, with emotion, "Am I such a monster that you can't even look at me?"

Gathering all her strength, Emery closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she forced her gaze up to his face. It was partially obscured by the shadows of the firelight, but she could see he wore his frustrating seriousness, betrayed no emotion. His smooth skin and masculine though refined features betrayed a man in his early-to-mid twenties, but his dark green eyes, narrowed at her, possessed the hardness of a man twice his years. That hardness unsettled Emery.

"Emer--"

"Emery!" she cried, a little louder than she'd intended. Her hands pressed against the wall, her fingers opened and closed against it, her knuckles whitening from the tension. "Don't call me Emer. I don't know her. I don't know you."

She could hear him exhale what she assumed was a discontented breath, but his eyes didn't leave her. "As I know. Forgall's damned curse works against us even as he lies dead."

"I am not comfortable around you."

"And I've understood. It's why I've not bid you come into our home." He paused, slower with his words than she was, more studious of her reactions than she was of his. "And I won't . . . until you're ready."

Emery had to look away, again. She couldn't let him sway her. "I--I won't ever be ready," she murmured, then repeated herself a little more forcefully, adding, "You scare me."

Cullen's hands hung against his sides, his fingers curled, and had Emery been looking at his face, she may have seen the nostrils of his high-bridged nose flare as he attempted to suppress himself. But she couldn't help feeling the energy he exuded, and she couldn't understand it, whether it were rage or resentment or something else. "You've made yourself clear," he finally responded, but before he left, he added firmly, "But I will continue to assure myself of your safety, Emery." And then, with a wafture of the curtain, he was gone.

Immediately, Emery let herself breathe properly. Weary and drained, she sank to the ground, and when Oonagh and Tess entered, they knew well enough not to ask any questions. Instead, the girls readied themselves and crept into bed without more than a few inconsequential words between them. And that night, in spite of what she'd told him, Emery dreamt of Cullen's intense green eyes meeting hers, of his braided auburn hair between her fingers . . . of the feeling of his lips against hers when he'd kissed her, what now seemed like a lifetime ago.