Hard rain fell the next two days. The weather had grown quite cold, and the girls spent much time huddled around their fire. Emery wondered what winters were like, here. Oonagh had seen snow, but she'd never known it to do much more than melt on touching ground. But the rains--they could go on for days with only short breaks of mist. Still, life had to go on. Even in the rain, animals needed tending, and food had to be preserved, and cloth had to be woven. Emery tried to be patient when Oonagh attempted to teach her at the loom, but she didn't have a knack for weaving, unlike Tess, who seemed to quickly catch on.

They talked about many things over those three days. Emery easily explained what had happened in the faerie hall, and she'd also discussed the fetch that had lured her into the forest. Tess had found it difficult to listen to the part where Charlie's image had turned into a pile of filth, and Emery had reassured her more than once that whatever that thing was, it had not been her brother. Emery also left out the part Cullen had said, about the fetch indicating Charlie's life was at risk. Tess had to know that, already--why rub it in?

And they'd talked of what had happened when Emery ran off the night of Samhain. People had seen her head toward the forest, and they'd also seen Cullen arrive and immediately run off after her. No one knew what to do. Cathbad was at once consulted, and he went into the forest with some soldiers to attempt to locate Emery and Cullen, but by the time they'd really begun to worry, Cullen had found his way out. They'd spent the next several days venturing as far as they dared into the forest so as not to get lost, the druid casting and divining and coming back with the consistent message that Emery was alive and would return, which gave them hope. After two soldiers wandered too far into the forest and one died while the other came out half-crazed, Cullen forbid anyone else from searching it and instead set up guards along its perimeter while Cathbad continued to monitor Emery's well-being with his druidic means.

He'd been a wreck--Cullen. At least, that was what Oonagh told her. No one had seen him eat or sleep the entire nine days; he'd just moved erratically back and forth between Dun-Dealgan and the forest, spending little to no time in his roundhouse.

Emery felt guilty for the worry she'd caused, and especially for what she'd said to Cullen about him being her real curse, but she couldn't talk to Tess and Oonagh about that. She wasn't exactly sure she'd been wrong in saying it--hadn't her apparently perfect life been shattered the minute he'd appeared in it? Even if that life had been an illusion, she'd been happy in it. And now she found herself on a neverending roller coaster with this difficult man, one moment wanting to run to him and tell him things she hardly knew how to put to words; another moment wishing to get back on his horse and ride out of Dun-Dealgan and never look back; the next moment wistful for those few brief hours of camaraderie they'd seemed to gain in the forest; many other moments drowning under waves of humiliation at her inability to look anything but foolish in front of him. And there were the moments, too, where she was just afraid . . . afraid of who she was, and of who she wasn't.

Wasn't all that curse enough?

But there was also the weight of that spear, which sat in the middle of their roundhouse and just glowed with all its fiery blue, seeming alive in its silent motion, as if it were watching them and waiting to be used. Emery hadn't touched it since placing it there two days earlier for fear she'd hurt someone with it. Cathbad had sufficiently scared her about the weapon, and even though she'd wanted someone to take it away, the druid had forbid it, not wanting anyone else to go near the thing until they could figure out what to do about it.

When a third day dawned gray and rainy, Oonagh went to visit her family and returned with happy news. For whatever reason, the feasting hall was to be used that night, and anyone of age, man or woman, was invited to attend. While Tess and Emery were mildly surprised, Oonagh re-explained that on official visits--from kings or other people of importance--the no-women rules of the feasting hall were strictly enforced, but every so often, especially during the cold months, communal feasts were held for entertainment as well as social gathering. Tess and Emery caught Oonagh's excitement; getting out of their roundhouse and seeing other people was just what they needed to lift the dreary aura that had descended upon them.

That evening, Tess and Oonagh took time perfecting their looks. Though Emery wanted to appear put together, she didn't really care about getting all dressed up and in fact refused to wear any of her fancy clothing from the days she'd been Emer. Over her tunic she wore a deep red dress, belted it, and draped a checkered shawl over one shoulder, pinning it with a deer's head brooch. Her hair she wore down, not wanting Oonagh to fuss over it. She wore no jewelry at all, instead encouraging the other two to enjoy it, which they declined (to Emery's mild irritation, as she knew they did it out of some silly notion that only a noblewoman could wear such things).

When they arrived at the hall, running through haze and light rainfall to get there, they entered to find it a cozy, jolly place. The fire was lit all the way down the room, giant cauldrons of stew hanging above the flames from a massive overhead beam and meats of varying kinds roasting alongside them. The smells alone were enough to kindle excitement. Tables were filling with men and women young and old, so many that Emery felt a sudden surge of joy. Even though the last time she'd seen so many people in one place had been a few nights back, on Samhain, the laughter and banter and smiles were enough to pull her from the black mood she'd been in the past few days.

A woman acting as a hostess of sorts ushered the three of them up toward the front of the hall, near the platform with the massive chair on it. Emery quickly realized Cullen was not present. He would've no doubt been in or near that chair or the massive table in front of it, and his distinctive auburn hair and beardless face would've been easy to spot amongst those of the older and rougher men. But Emery couldn't decide if she was disappointed or not at his absence; she wasn't sure she could face him, after the way she'd last spoken to him. In any case, the three girls were seated at the end of one of the long tables to the side of the platform, a bit of a distance from any others, which they didn't quite mind; their location allowed them to view everyone else in the hall.

Beer and wine were served in flagons, and bronze plates with breads and stew and meats shortly followed. While others seemed to be getting up and serving themselves and their families, the girls were attended by an older woman who seemed happy to do the job. After a mere ten minutes or so, Cathbad joined them, looking a bit tired and pale.

"What's the matter?" Tess asked him right away.

The druid settled next to Tess, giving her as much smile as he could muster and briefly taking hold of her hand before releasing it to grab a drink. "Now that you are safely returned, Emery," he said, looking at the color of his wine before daring a gulp of it, "there are other matters that need tending to."

"Such as?" Emery asked.

"Grave matters," he added, either ignoring or not hearing her.

Emery looked at the man across the table, knowing she'd taken him for granted since meeting him. He presented as haphazard, someone she could speak plainly to and whose purpose should be to tell her everything she wanted to know, but he was capable of real magic, and he did have serious work to do, whatever it might be. She noticed, too, that he'd dressed up a little. He'd attempted to neaten his straight black hair, and while he'd removed some of his more wizardy-looking gear--his belt of mushrooms and plants and bird wings and bones--he'd added some other things, like the red amulet that Emery had seen on him long ago and something like a quartz hanging from his left ear. His cloak had been trimmed with fiery orange foxfur, too. For a second, Emery wondered at the cause for his effort, but she had a feeling it was sitting next to him.

"Where's Lord Cuchulain?" Oonagh asked, popping a potato into her mouth.

"He'll be here soon enough," Cathbad replied. "A few of the Red Branch arrived yesterday. They've been training for hours."

"In the rain?" Emery asked.

Cathbad's eyes met hers. "Battles don't wait upon the weather."

That was probably true. And yet, it seemed foolish, to be out in the cold, in the pouring rain and mud. Any of them could get sick, and Emery was fairly sure battles didn't care about illness, either. "Which members of the Red Branch came?"

"Keltar of the Battles and Conal Cearnach."

"Cearnach is here?" Emery brightened a bit. "Oh, I hope I get to see him! The brothers and the poet even live here and I barely see them. But I like Cearnach. He and Tess and I, we fought zombies together."

"You fought what?" Oonagh interjected.

"Oh. The undead," Tess explained. "My brother, too." At the mention of Charlie, Tess's and Emery's faces fell, and the mood at the table dampened.

"Lady," Cathbad said, turning to look more straightforwardly at Tess, who returned his softened expression. "I've told you, he must be near. A fetch cannot stray far from its source. He is in that forest--I am sure of it, and I've come very close to discerning Carman's whereabouts. She's laid many a veil over herself, but I have pulled back most of them. It is only a matter of time before we locate your brother." The druid placed his elbows on the table and massaged his forehead and cheeks with his fingertips. "There are so many questions I cannot answer at present. Lugh's spear, and the Dark Man, and Carman . . ." He lifted his eyes pointedly to Emery. "Have you spoken at all to Lord Cuchulain about what I've asked, during your time together?"

Emery glanced at her friends, then back to Cathbad. How could he ask her that, in front of them? "Why don't you ask him?"

He sighed. "I did. He would not speak of your time together. I was hoping you might be more forthcoming--"

"Well, I won't be."

Cathbad put up his hands in defeat. "If the two of you cannot communicate with one another, we will figure out nothing! You hinder me--"

"And you lie to me, Cat, because I told you not to tell him about the Dark Man, and you did!"

"Please!" Tess cried. "Please stop arguing! Can't we just forget about all of that and just enjoy the night? Your questions aren't getting answered right now, so just let them be. All right?"

Cathbad refilled his wine from a huge bottle on the table. "Lady Tess is right. I don't wish to argue, especially before my Lord. He is here, now."

He was right. Several men had entered the hall and were headed down the center along the firepit. Something of a hush fell over the revelers. Cullen was at the forefront, and though Emery tried not to look at him much, she couldn't help herself. Though he and the others had apparently been training, Cullen cleaned up well. He wore shades of dark and light brown, his cloak deep red, a jeweled brooch in swirls of gold pinning back the fabric at his neck. His face was as stolid as ever, but he walked with the confidence of a man well-known for his feats of daring. Behind him, indeed, were Conal Cearnach, looking large and wild with his blond lion's mane and light and dark eyes. Emery felt an immediate affection for him and hoped she'd get the chance to thank him for all he'd done for her. Then there was Keltar, arrogant as ever with his upturned chin and well-manicured hair, his attire embroidered and furred and fancier than any of the dresses Emery had received from her old home. The three brothers were next--Naoise, Ainle, and Arden--handsome with their fair skin and dark hair, three male Snow Whites, slender and youthful. Last came Bricriu the poet, silver-haired and squinty-eyed, darting a definite glance and smile in her direction as he passed by.

The seven men approached the platform at the end of the hall farthest from the doors and took seats at a table there arranged for the purpose, but there wasn't quite enough room, so the brothers joined Emery and Cathbad and Tess and Oonagh at their table. Of all the Red Branch knights, these three were closest in age to Tess and Emery, and though neither they nor any of the other knights save Cearnach had had the opportunity to show off their fighting skills the last time Emery had met them, the brothers were apparently extremely gifted with the sword. Their youth and their charm made them easy to talk to, and soon enough, conversation at their table was quite enjoyable, just as Tess had asked for.

Naoise, the eldest of the brothers at around twenty-two, had dark, shining hair that fell around his chin except for a bit that was pulled back over his ears. His ice blue eyes, though cold in color, were filled with a warmth that made him look at ease with the world. His high forehead and cheekbones looked more those of some Prince Charming out of a fairytale than a warrior in this rough world. Ainle, the middle brother, was quite similar to Naoise, though his shoulders were more square, and he kept his hair longer and tied into a knot; he seemed to enjoy sarcasm as much as Emery did. Arden, the youngest, was always smiling, most amiable of the three, and knew a lot of gossip. They lived in Dun-Dealgan, all of them, but their training and work kept them quite unavailable and out of sight. It seemed they, too, were King Conchobar's nephews, cousins of Cuchulain, and that was why they'd chosen to stay with him for the time being rather than set out on their own. At some point, Naoise said, he'd build up his own hillfort, find a bride, and hope to be as happy as Cuchulain.

When he said that, their end of the table fell into an awkward silence, with only Emery daring to say with all her sarcasm, "Oh sure, he looks really happy," because at that moment, Cullen was up there on his platform, staring at them in their laughter, brooding like some antihero out of a movie.

Blushing under his eyes, Emery felt a sense of shame for her words and for knowing she was certainly not helping him with any happiness--quite the contrary, really. But then she was pulled back into a story Arden told of a river nymph that'd nearly drowned Ainle a few months back for refusing her a kiss as he crossed the water.

Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe it was the joy of feeling as if things were normal for a moment--with friends, and fun, and conversation and a little flirting--but Emery neglected to notice for some time that Naoise often stole keen glances at her. Of the three, he was quietest in demeanor and yet most dashing, but it was only after a few hours of liveliness, when the hall was settling down in order for entertainment to begin, when the eldest brother suddenly placed a hand on the table before Emery.

She looked up at Naoise, questioningly. "Lady," he said, "may I speak with you, plainly?"

Emery blinked in surprise, shrugged toward the others, and rose to follow him to a place behind the great wooden columns of the feasting hall, where banners hung and no others would hear their conversation. When they did return to their seats, Emery was quite flustered indeed, and Naoise's fair cheeks had reddened considerably, but neither of them said anything of their conversation. As musicians rose to his feet to prepare to play, Cullen, whose watching eyes had taken note of the pair's private conversation and current appearance, continued to brood.