As dawn broke over the hilltops, filtering through the mist in filmy iridescent shafts, two horses forged a slow path toward Dun-Dealgan. One, a beautiful pale gray with dark, shaggy hair, was riderless, though he wore a lead that was held by an auburn-haired man on the large, glossy black stallion next to him. In front of Cullen, her back to his chest, sat Emery. He was much taller than she was, so her head nestled perfectly beneath his chin, and every so often he would bend and kiss her waves of hair. Cullen rode with one hand holding both Liath Macha's and Dub Sainglend's reins and his other arm wrapped around Emery's waist. They were silent most of the way, for much had been answered through their actions of the previous night, and while there would be more to discuss when they returned to the hillfort, in the present moment, each was content merely to savor what had happened--what was still happening--between them.

They'd known no cold, no discomfort, nor even the passing of time in one another's arms. And when they'd risen at last, Cullen had wrapped Emery's fur around her, and he'd dressed himself (strapping most of his armor to Dub Sainglend rather than wear it). Then he'd pulled Lugh's Spear from the pile of ash that had once been Lugaid, son of Cú Roí. The spear's flame had been dulled by the ashes, though it reignited with all its pulsing blue the moment it'd been retrieved, and it'd seemed unhappy in Cullen's hand. So he'd given it to Emery, and its flame had softened to a flicker, though she'd had to ride with it sideways on her lap, as Lugaid's blood did indeed drip continuously from the spearhead, browning and crinkling patches of grass onto which it fell.

As they rode toward Dun-Dealgan, Emery marveled at all that had happened. Whatever had driven her to ride out last night had been borne of weeks of brooding, of trying to know herself, and though she still had so many questions without answers, she had him, now. Oh, how she wanted Cullen, even in that moment sitting right in front of him--how she wanted to fold herself closer against him, so close that they could never be apart. Her heart had been so busy contending with her obstinacy, she'd wrapped it in so many layers of self-deception, that to be true to her feelings at last brought her almost more happiness than she could bear.

Once the watchtowers of Dun-Dealgan were visible, Cullen slowed the horses to a stop. Tightening his arm around her waist as if attempting to pull her nearer, he asked, "Are you ready, my Lady?"

Emery closed her eyes against the landscape before her, wanted instead to curl deeper into Cullen's warmth. "Should I ride Liath Macha? Do you think everyone will talk?"

"I would not let you go, now that I have you in my arms." She turned up to him, and he bent to kiss her before straightening and pushing the horses into motion once again, adding, "So let them talk."

If any had thoughts about Cullen and Emery as they arrived through the gates, no one said anything, at least, not to them. Once in the courtyard, Cullen disembarked from Dub Sainglend and, careful to watch Lugh's Spear, helped Emery down. The two of them gave the horses to Edan, who arrived in a burst of excitement at the Lord's return, and then the two of them headed toward his roundhouse at the back of the fort. Every person they passed expressed such great relief and joy at seeing Cullen that within minutes, the word of his return had spread, and crowds assembled along the pathways to his dwelling. He was vocal in warning them all to keep away from the spear, though, and while he seemed appreciative of his peoples' exultation, Emery knew he was also, in spite of their good intentions, frustrated at the attention, perhaps even embarrassed by it.

When they reached their destination, Emery stood and faced Cullen, and though they were surrounded by others, she knew only his steady gaze, his words: "Return the spear, and move your belongings. I will come to you as fast as I am able." Then, with an intense, penetrating look, Cullen set off to speak with his Knights.

The villagers began to disband soon after their Lord had gone, though many expressed their happiness to see Emery again as well, and she took their words to heart. They had to have sensed that something had changed between her and Cullen, and she was perfectly at peace if they did.

"Emery!"

Turning swiftly, she saw Tess running toward her down a path. "Watch the spear!" Emery warned just in time, as Tess jumped to hug her.

"Where have you been? You--you're safe! And--what happened?" Tess's eyes widened. "Are you and Cullen--"

"Hold on!" Emery couldn't help but laugh at Tess's excitability. "Let me put this back before I hurt someone." She turned and headed up the footbridge to Cullen's doorway, directing the spear tip over the side of the railing so that the dripping blood fell onto the dirt rather than the boards, where it'd burn holes through the wood. It was a little more difficult to navigate inside; Emery couldn't help but get a few drops on the stone and rugs, but she moved as fast as she could and dunked the speartip into the Dagda's Cauldron, where the blue flames danced around its belly and were extinguished. The girl stood back and looked around the dwelling. She'd been inside only twice, but on both occasions, she'd appreciated the comparative luxury of the place, with its warm, bright lighting and its furs and fabrics. She glanced toward the drawn curtains beyond which lay Cullen's bed--her bed, now!--and a thrill went through her just thinking of sleeping next to that man, close to him every night . . .

"Can I come in?" Tess called from the door, and Emery, startled from her thoughts, told her yes, absolutely. Tess gazed in wonder about the house. "What does this mean, Em? Are you . . . did you two . . .?"

Emery was sure she blushed. "I guess. I'm--I'm moving in here, Tess. Is that all right?" She hadn't thought of her friend in all of her distraction and suddenly felt guilty.

"Of course! Oh, Emery, I'm so, so happy for you! You have to tell me everything. Well, as much as you want to, anyway. Come on. I can help you get your clothes and things."

As the girls moved back and forth the few times as was necessary (Emery didn't have many belongings), Tess actually did most of the chattering, going on about how worried she'd been the night before, how Cathbad had returned wounded but had healed himself and had then been healing others all night, with her assistance. She explained that when everyone had wondered at why Emery had gone off through the gates, Lóegaire had sheepishly explained there'd been a miscommunication, that he'd joked about leaving Cullen for dead, though all along he and the other warriors knew their chieftain had stayed behind to deal with regaining his spear, Gáe Bulg, and had insisted they return to Dun-Dealgan to spread news of the victory (and Cathbad had confided in Tess that, beyond staying to retrieve his weapon, Cullen had wanted to wash the blood and gore from himself, so as not to horrify Emery when he returned). Everyone had waited, then, for their Lord and Lady's arrival, and they had not been disappointed. There would be a feast that night, to celebrate their triumph over Munster, and all were to be invited.

And a feast there was, quite livelier and more fun than any of the others Emery had attended. She sat with Cullen, though they chose not to be on the platform but on the floor with the other Knights. All of the Red Branch had come to Cullen's aid--Emery saw those she already knew were present as well as the giant Fergus mac Roy and the terrifying Cethern mac Fintan, of the Brilliant Deeds. Even King Conchobar himself had joined them. Emery hadn't realized that the King had joined Cullen on the battlefield and was astounded at the fact. So the hall was packed full, and the doors were open wide so that those who couldn't fit could still join the revelry from beyond. The music and the food and the laughter and the warmth, Tess and Cathbad looking happier than ever, Cullen maintaining his reserve for the most part though sharing conspiratorial looks with her on occasion, and her own anticipation and renewed apprehension over returning to his—their—home together . . . all of everything mixed into a mélange of intoxication and excitement calmed only by the continuously flowing wine, the presence of the man next to her, and her friends across the table.

What Emery really wanted, though, as the evening wore on and in spite of its fun, was to be alone again with Cullen. She wanted to be with him away from others' eyes and ears. She wanted quiet so they could talk about the many things that needed talking about. She wanted his touch, his soft words at her ear, his closeness. Oh! The more she thought about it, the more agitated she became. They hadn't had a moment alone since they'd arrived that morning, and for all she knew, everything prior had been some feverish dream. She needed reassurance that it hadn't been, and her trepidation began to grow until at last, late into the night, Cullen rose and bade her follow him from the hall and into the cool night air. Revelers were still at it, though many had fallen asleep or into their cups both inside and outside the hall.

"Emery," Cullen breathed her name, once they had a moment to themselves. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, his voice stirring against the relative quiet. "Will you return to our home?"

She took hold of his wrist and pressed it to her lips, nodding.

"Cuchulain! The night is young! A word!"

They both turned to see Conchobar at the door of the feasting hall, the cheeks above his black beard flushed, his beetle eyes dulled by drink. Cullen frowned. "I'll be only a moment," he told Emery. "Wait for me." He went to the king and began to converse.

Standing alone, Emery was unable to hear what the men discussed, and though there were people about, they were preoccupied with themselves and took little interest in her beyond a few hello's. The girl pulled her blue shawl tighter around her shoulders; the air had been refreshing at first, but the chill had fast begun to creep about her neck and shoulders. She looked down at herself; she'd paid some attention to her attire that night and thought the combination of her green dress and copper jewelry would complement Cullen's eyes. So ridiculous, she suddenly thought, that I care so much, all of a sudden! But no, she corrected herself--her preoccupation wasn't sudden. Hadn't she cared all along? Now that she'd capitulated, the realization that she could show affection was freeing.

Something caught her eye, off to the side, and Emery turned toward a row of small buildings which, she thought, were used for storage. They weren't large enough to be dwellings, but there were also no animals around them. She'd never paid much attention to them. What had moved, there? Something white and quick--so quick it had moved away before she'd gotten a look at it. The girl shrugged, figuring her eyes had played tricks, but before she turned back, there it was again! Definite, this time, a . . . a child, maybe? Perhaps a lost child, or a sheep that shouldn't be wandering--she didn't know. But Cullen and Conchobar were still talking, and it wouldn't hurt to take a moment to satisfy her curiosity. If it were a child or animal, it would need redirecting at this late hour.

So she stepped through the few straggling people around her and started toward the row of little buildings, crossing slowly through the shadows they created against the moon and torchlight, heading to where she'd seen the movement. Each footfall felt more secretive than she thought it should. She wasn't doing anything wrong, was she? So why did she suddenly feel as if she were misbehaving? The walls around her seemed to lean in, and the sounds of men and women beyond were as if from a television that had been left on in another room--muted and distant. When she reached the back of the building around which she'd seen the white figure dart, Emery hesitantly peeked around the wall and was actually relieved to see nothing there. Straightening, she took a deep breath. She should go back to Cullen. Nothing was here, after all.

But the moment she turned, she came face to face with the very thing she'd been seeking.

Emery startled so much she nearly fell backward but caught herself. "Charlie!" He stood there, pale as she'd seen him the night of Samhain, a ghostly sheen emanating from his golden curls and deep blue eyes, which were troubled, perhaps pained. "My God! Charlie! Carman said--we thought you were dead!"

He shook his head, and Emery noticed a strange crystal glitter to his skin. "I told you I'd come back for you, Em. Didn't you believe me?"

Emery took a step back as he seemed to move closer to her without actually moving. Something felt . . . off. "But how are you here? Carman is gone--"

"I can't break the spell unless you help me."

"I--I'll get Cathbad. He's a druid. He can break spells! And Tess. Tess will be so happy!" She attempted to step around him, but even standing still, Charlie's very presence blocked her. Emery began to panic a little. Raising her voice just a bit, she added, "I'll--I'll get Cullen--"

"No."

Mentioning him had been a mistake. Charlie's refusal had been so firm, almost angry. Emery gazed at him, and the sharp lines of his face softened.

"You don't understand," he went on, his tone becoming desperate, pleading. "He'll kill me. Only you can help, Emery. I'm begging you. It's so easy, and it'll be so quick you'll hardly know you've done it, and then I'll be back, myself. I promise! I would never, ever hurt you."

Her heart pounding, Emery met Charlie's eyes--the light that softly flowed from all around him also twinkling somewhere fathoms below their blue. He was Charlie, wasn't he? He surely looked like Charlie.

"Remember our dream, Emery. I told you I'd come back."

Our dream, he'd said. As if they'd dreamt it together. "Wh-what do I have to do?" Emery asked at last, unable to just leave him there, suffering.

Charlie smiled with his mouth, though his eyes remained static. "Just take hold, and answer one question." He slowly put out his pale hand into the space between them, uncurling his fingers one by one.

"What question?"

"It's so easy, Em. Just a simple answer, a yes or no . . . will you help me?"

The air around them had become a vacuum without her even recognizing it, dimming the people and buildings beyond, dulling the voices calling for her, blurring anything but the circle of light that now encased them against the falling dark, and Emery's mind roared with warning, her whole body trembled, but she could not turn away. Not this time, not from Charlie.

"Yes," she answered, her one word mechanic and strange to her, "of course I'll help you."

And then she reached for him, and as she did so, the surrounding space began to flicker--was her meadow around her? Golden and buzzing? No--the forest . . . dark and foreboding . . . or the meadow again? Hardly understanding, Emery began to draw back, but Charlie snatched hold of her hand, and all at once, his deep blue eyes radiated white light, the fingers around her hand stretched into long, black, glittering claws. Beyond Charlie's expanding form flickered three tall, cloaked figures, one with the black mask of a bird, one covered in a dead wolf's foul pelt, and one whose towering antlers tangled into the sky.

The last Emery saw as she was consumed with terror was a maniacal grin splitting the face in front of her, and then she was gone, leaving Cullen standing helpless before an empty space that had moments earlier contained the woman he loved. 

THE END (of Book II)