If a few months ago Emery had been asked to describe the desired projection of her life, she undoubtedly would have said something cliché, something about being admitted into a prestigious university, enjoying college life, getting a meaningful job, traveling the world, finding an amazing partner, getting married and having kids . . . growing old with the one she loved. It wouldn't have been anything beyond ordinary, and yet it would've been perfectly wonderful to her. Where she was now, not one of those ideas about where life was going to take her seemed at all possible.

Staring out into a cold evening from the doorway of a cold building, she thought only of how much she wished she'd brought her feather comforter with her before traveling through that portal in the woods back in time to this place. She'd suggest to Cathbad that he return and get it for her, but the druid had informed her that he'd dissolved the time-traveling wormhole the minute they'd all returned; it'd become unstable, he'd said. And she had no reason to doubt him, though she really did want that feather comforter. And her pillow. And another pair of jeans. And a handheld mirror. And more personal hygiene products. And more of that cereal she used to eat every morning, the one with the peanut butter and chocolate puffs . . . and, and, and. The truth was, Emery couldn't go ten minutes without wishing she could return to the conveniences and comforts of her previous life, even though she'd been in this ancient world no more than a few days (though it was difficult to keep track without anything like school to denote weeks and weekends). Also frustrating was the lack of entertainment. Without a phone or a television, a computer or stores, how was she supposed to occupy her time? Thank God Tess had been waiting for her on the other side of that portal when she'd gone through it, or who knew how she'd have coped.

Here's how it had happened. Emery had had to endure two unpleasant sensations when traveling to this primeval place: first, the jittery ticklishness of stepping through the portal, and second, the pressure of Cullen's firm hand gripping her own. The very moment their journey had ended (and, thankfully, it had been practically instantaneous), she'd reclaimed her hand and stepped out of the dolmen rock structure and into the light by herself. Whatever her supposed-husband thought of that, she didn't know, and, frankly, she didn't care.

Tess had been standing on a giant rock, surrounded by crevices of hardy grass, and had leapt down to Emery the moment they'd spotted one another. Nothing had felt more comforting than Tess's hug. "You're the only reason I think I can do this," Emery had immediately told her, and the girls had embraced again.

From there, Cathbad had transported them--first the girls, and then Cullen--to a strange sort of village fortress Emery had soon learned was called Dun-Dealgan. It wasn't what she'd envisioned, seeing the Red Branch Knights and their attire and weapons in her previous life; she'd pictured castles and kings and queens and jousting. But clearly, her historical knowledge was lacking. This place was not some romantic medieval movie set—it was old. As in Iron Age old. And it was drafty. And it was quiet. Dun-Dealgan was on what was probably a man-made hill, with a deep ditch followed by raised earth ridges and palisades that led high up to and surrounded the flat top. A wall of stone and wooden poles ran around the perimeter, enclosing a vast area, and there was at least one tower gate that she knew of, as it was the one they'd entered (both she and Tess had been perturbed to find several heads hanging from it). Within the walls were many structures, like a whole village inside. Most of the main buildings were circular, with earthen walls and long, sloping thatched roofs, some of which almost touched the ground. These were mostly residential dwellings, and they did have a sort of simplicity to them that could be considered charming. The largest of these roundhouses, Lord Cuchulain's, was set atop a platform accessible only by a footbridge. It was built up tall with stone and was actually quite grand, though Emery had not yet seen inside it.

She could at least be grateful for that. Cathbad had led both her and Tess to their very own building, a small structure near the base of the main roundhouse, where the two of them would stay for the time being. Emery knew without asking him that he did it at Cullen's behest, and her feelings about it were strange. Mostly, she was immensely relieved. The thought of living in close proximity to Cullen, in a place where he might try to be near to her, was terrifying, and she was glad she hadn't had to speak up about not wanting that. Yet there was a slight nagging voice that questioned his decision—hadn't he apparently risked everything to get her back, and what, now he was going to shove her aside?

The truth was, she'd had too much time to think about it, sitting around doing very little. She and Tess hadn't quite known what to do with themselves. They'd wandered a bit throughout the fortress, where a variety of people lived and seemed to have many things to keep themselves busy. There were stables and plots of farmland, pens of various animals and a smithy. But wherever they wandered, eyes were drawn to them, and the girls hadn't felt quite confident enough to bear the gazes for long. Likely the stares were at their clothing. The girls wore what they'd brought from home, like visitors wandering around at some sort of renaissance festival, like tourists in a re-enactment. They'd been too in awe, too culture-shocked, to do much more than just marvel at what they saw.

Cathbad had visited a handful of times over the few days but in short bursts, for he had much to tend to after his absences and did not actually reside in the hillfort. He'd promised to take them beyond the walls as soon as he was permitted to do so, which, to Emery, implied they were essentially prisoners in the fort, no doubt because Cullen wanted her to stay nearby. And the man himself? Well, Emery was glad she'd not seen him once since they'd arrived, though she knew he had a hand in the regulations building up around them, that he'd no doubt conversed with all the inhabitants of Dun-Dealgan to set some sort of boundaries and perhaps explain their foreignness. But she knew as well that the amenities they'd been brought—food and drink, clothing and bedding and other necessities—were due to his orders. What he did all day, she didn't know, but both she and Tess had quickly realized that they needed to find their place, or they'd live in perpetual "otherness."

The day after they'd come back, after a sleepless night on a pad of straw and furs, a young woman, Oonagh, had come to their roundhouse. She claimed she'd been sent to help with "ladies' concerns," which the girls had discovered meant answering general questions and making sure their needs were met. Oonagh had appeared to be about their age, strawberry-haired and freckled, and both Tess and Emery had taken an immediate liking to her. Oonagh lived with her family in one of the many other roundhouses, but after only a couple of days, she'd accepted the girls' invitation to move in with them.

Their own little roundhouse couldn't compare to Oonagh's family's, but it was quaint in its way. The center was an open space with a built-up firepit, and nearby was a very low table with rolled straw benches, covered with fabric. The beds were against the walls, three of them, quite close together, just out in the open. A large iron basin served as a bath, and then there were other items in the house, which Oonagh explained were an oven and a loom, although neither Tess nor Emery knew enough to make use of either of them and relied on Oonagh to bring them meals.

That's what they were doing, about the fifth night after arriving--eating a meal. At first, Emery had been disinclined to eat more than the snacks she'd crammed into her bag, but hunger and thirst had driven her to try the food. She was standing at the door, gazing out at the people heading into their homes for their evening meal, and Tess and Oonagh were seated at the table. Oonagh had re-started the fire in the pit, as the girls had forgotten about it and let it simmer out. The fire was necessary not just for warmth but for light.

"Em!" called Tess. "Come and sit with us. You're letting in all the cold air."

Sighing into the dusk, wondering as she had every night whether she'd fall asleep and wake in the morning to find it had all been a dream, Emery turned back to the interior of the roundhouse and went to sit at the table near her friends.

"I've brought you woolen garments, as well," Oonagh was saying, "though I hear, Lady, that Lord Cuchulain has sent men to collect your belongings from your former home, Luglochta Loga. They should arrive within the week."

"Please, Oonagh. Call me Emery."

The girl laughed. "I've forgotten again! But you must understand, Emery, that beyond this wall I must call you Lady."

"It's one thing for Cat," Emery added, picking apart a chunk of brown bread and rubbing it on a pat of butter, "because he just couldn't remember, but I don't want everyone here treating me like I'm different."

Tess and Oonagh looked at one another and raised their eyebrows. "We are different," Tess sighed.

"Not that kind of different," Emery went on. "Nobody calls you lady except for Cat, for his own weird reasons. I'm no better than anyone else here; the lady thing creeps me out."

"But you are a lady, Lady," Oonagh smirked. The other two girls couldn't help but smile in response.

This was why they'd gotten along with her so well. Oonagh had popped into their roundhouse and, without any reservations, begun asking them all sorts of questions and divulging juicy bits and pieces about the various inhabitants of Dun-Dealgan in an effort to familiarize Tess and Emery with more than just the requirements of daily life. She'd brought laughter and gossip to them, humanized the experience, created a warmth in the autumn chill.

"Why do you have to call me Lady, anyway? What will happen if you don't?"

Oonagh puffed her cheeks and exhaled, then licked some butter off her fingers. "I wouldn't like to find out," she said in her heavy accent. "Lord Cuchulain's not one to anger."

"And he's told you all to call me Lady?"

"Not me, myself," Oonagh replied. "I was told by my mother, who was probably told by someone else, who was probably told by someone else . . . you understand. It's just, known."

Emery slumped back on her stool and looked at Tess, whose short wavy hair had poofed up in the ever-present mist. She knew her own hair was a mess, as well, and Oonagh had offered to do something with it, but Emery had brought a few hair products with her and had managed to brush and put it up neatly enough. "Tess, I don't know if I can do this. I don't feel any sort of connection, here. Once we find Charlie, I want to go back with you two."

They'd spent most of their time discussing this very thing, and they'd told Oonagh about the plan as well. Cathbad would help them locate Tess's abducted brother; then they'd get him back, and the druid could send them all three home. Emery would go live with Tess and Charlie, and somehow, all would go back to as normal a place as it could. Oonagh had completely understood. In fact, everything they'd told her about their own world had greatly fascinated her, and they'd even talked about her going back with them. Emery didn't tell the girls what she knew to be true--that people from this place forgot it if they stayed away for too long. It was what had happened to Conall Cearnach, the warrior who had helped her so much, and Cathbad had told her it would happen to the other Red Branch Knights as well.

She hadn't seen any of those knights since returning. When she'd asked Oonagh about them, the girl had mentioned that while a few lived within the walls of Dun-Dealgan--the brothers Naoise, Ainle, and Arden as well as Bricriu the poet--the others resided in their own hillforts in the neighboring countryside. All were in allegiance to Conchobar mac Nessa, King of Ulster, who ruled from his fort at Emain Macha.

"But," Oonagh had told them with a hint of mischief one night as they'd sat around the fire, "Our Lord Cuchulain is far mightier. He'd make a better king, for sure, but he stays in his place out of loyalty." A twinkle had invaded her eyes. "He's a great man, Emery. And--oh! So handsome, too. If only I could be so lucky! I can't say I'd have declined if he asked to take me out in the fields--" She'd caught herself and blushed. "Lady, I'm sorry. I forget myself. He's your husband. I should never--"

Emery had scoffed. "You do not need to be sorry. I wish he would take you out in some fields. I don't want him at all."

Oonagh had grown uncommonly serious. "No, Emery. You'll come to care for him. I'm sure of it."

"I wish everyone would stop telling me how great he is and how lucky I am." Then she'd huffed off to bed.

That conversation had occurred a couple nights back, and afterward, Tess and Emery had agreed that Oonagh must move in with them. They needed just such an honest and lively person. On their own, they'd not known what to do except talk on and on about Charlie and the witch that had taken him; about what had happened with Forgall, Emery's horrible father; about how the curse had apparently come to an end; about what their friends back home might be up to. They'd have naturally forgotten Emery the moment she'd left, although Tess and Charlie's parents were probably frantic over them. The girls had talked about their plan to go home and about everything in between . . . but the one thing Tess wouldn't open up about was what had happened the night she and Cathbad had been alone in a cabin at Camp Hack-a-back, the night Emery had ridden a pooka and warded off Evil. It all seemed so long ago, but it'd really only been a week or two, and Tess managed to evade discussing it every time Emery brought it up.

But Emery didn't pry. She cared deeply for Tess, and if something was upsetting to her, Emery knew her friend would talk about it when she was ready.

"Now come see this clothing I've brought for you," Oonagh said suddenly, after they'd eaten much of the stew and bread and drunk the watered-down beer she'd brought. "The colors are quite lovely." She went to one of the beds, where she'd placed a pile of items. The dresses of red and blue wool did look quite warm, and she had, as well, cording for belts and under-tunics and leather shoes, and while Tess was interested enough to dress herself in "costume," as she said, Emery much preferred to stay in the clothing she knew (though it all needed a good washing). Oonagh and Tess begged Emery, but it was only when Oonagh promised to answer any question she asked that Emery at last gave in and removed her jeans and sweater.

Oonagh was intrigued by her and Tess's undergarments, which they were unwilling to remove, as it seemed women there relied on layers rather than underwear to keep them warm enough. While Oonagh tried to help Emery with her attire, Emery convinced her that she could do it on her own, and shortly, both she and Tess were draped in plain, ankle-length garments over which they added colored woolen dresses. They tied cords around their waists and draped a plaid shawl (in Tess's case) or a sheepskin cloak (in Emery's case) over their shoulders. Their shoes they did not change, being far more comfortable in their Converse than in any sort of leather sandals.

"Lovely!" Oonagh grinned. "You must admit you're warmer! Tomorrow morning I'll braid your hair, Emery. You'll see I've got a talent for it."

Emery turned to face the girl. "All right. But for now, you have to answer my question."

"Anything you'd like."

Smiling, Emery darted a sly look to Tess and then back to Oonagh. "Where does the druid Cathbad live?"

Startled, Oonagh's own grin flattened. She laughed a bit nervously. "Why would you want to know that, Lady?"

"Because," Emery told her, "now that we're disguised, we're going to go visit, tonight."