What followed three excruciatingly dull and anxiety-filled days later was worse than they'd hoped, and they'd done a lot of hoping.

Time had seemed to move so slowly, and besides the delivery of food and drink and water to heat for bathing, there was nothing to look forward to. Charlie stayed himself for most of the time, except when he stepped out so they could bathe, and he'd remained entirely tame, likely because of the presence of someone else. Tess had wanted to send him on errands as the old woman, to see if he could get any information on what was happening, but Charlie had flat out refused to do anything for them, and Emery had been glad that he'd saved her from having to explain the pain she felt whenever they were too far apart. So they'd sat around mostly in silence, the tension of wondering what was going on beyond their walls and the discomfort brought about by Charlie's constant presence keeping the girls from sharing much information.

They did discuss a few things, though. Emery had asked what'd been going on in her absence, besides Cullen setting out to look for her, and Tess had spoken of troublesome events. Cathbad had at first done what he could to try to locate Emery, but he'd received no signs whatsoever, and though he'd continued to divinate in attempt to find her, Cullen's absence--followed by Naoise's and his brothers' absence--had given him an authority in Dun-Dealgan that he hadn't asked for. Everyone had suddenly seemed to have problems, and he'd had little understanding of how to fix them. Animals dying of sicknesses he'd never seen; food that the residents made and preserved suddenly going bad; the forest outside of the hillfort (and in which he lived), beginning to emit foul smells, and the earth outside it transforming into swamp--these were a mere few of the problems he'd been asked to remedy. The bogs were the most concerning, though. They were creeping outward, toward the hill on which Dun-Dealgan had been built, and after two ponies, a child, and the child's father had sunk into the mire, the residents had deemed the area unsafe. Even Cathbad himself was unable to get into the forest to go to his hut, as his druidry no longer worked beyond the trees. This had in turn cut him off from much needed resources.

And these, Tess told Emery, were not events unique to Dun-Dealgan. Reports from all throughout Ulster and beyond came with every traveler and wanderer. Farmsteads were sinking into the earth; strange things were creeping out of rivers and caves and consuming those who drew too near; people once friendly were beginning to fight one another for supplies that had grown scarce--all of this in a matter of weeks. And what was more, after Ulster had decimated Munster (Emery herself had been responsible for the death of Lugaid, their prince, when she'd thrown Lugh's Spear at him), the other provinces were beginning to grumble, to ask the same question that Cú Roí had asked: where was the Stone of Destiny? Where was Lia Fáil? Wasn't it needed to proclaim a High King, to bring them together in these times of fear and need? And what right had Lord Cuchulain had to interfere with Cú Roí when the King had only wanted his rightfully acquired spoils of battle (nevermind that those "spoils" were a woman who didn't want to be with him)?

The more people were beginning to suffer, it seemed, the more they asked such questions, and even Tess herself stated that she and Cathbad believed there was a connection between the present suffering and the disappearance of Lia Fáil. Of course, Emery hadn't told her that she'd been the one to steal the stone (which she couldn't remember doing), and even though she was concerned with all that had been happening, she was happy to hear, at least, that Cullen hadn't been discovered with it.

"It's the Darkness," Emery had absently stated at one point during Tess's description of all the ills of the land. "Cat knows it. We both know it. The Darkness is coming, Tess. And we can't stop it." In her mind, she saw the row of monsters sitting on their thrones.

But instead of desiring more information, Tess had only turned away from her. "Is that what you and Charlie talk about? The Darkness?"

And they hadn't said more for some time.

But then, three days into their isolation, news came in the form of Cathbad himself, who burst into the roundhouse and threw his arms around Tess. He held her face in his hands and, for the first time Emery had ever seen, kissed her cheeks and forehead, and she couldn't help but turn away with a slight smile and a fair amount of envy to see their affection for one another.

"Oh, my Tess!" Cathbad mumbled, practically crying he was so happy to see her. "Thank the Gods you are well."

"Don't worry about me," Tess returned. "What's happened?"

"You will not die, that is what's happened."

"They're all here?" Tess was shocked.

"Soon."

"Of their own will?"

Cathbad hesitated. "No . . ."

"You forced them to come here? Are they in danger?"

"I did not force anyone to do anything, and yes, they are surely in danger."

"They're all in danger?" Emery reminded them she was there.

"Most surely."

"Even . . . even Cullen?"

Tess glanced from Emery to the old woman near the door, then back to Cathbad. "Can you explain?"

The druid would have, but before he could say another word, the man named Éogan entered the roundhouse, ran his one gaze over each of them, pinned his one eye on Emery, and growled. "You. Come."

"But I—"

"Now!"

Emery gulped, took a deep breath, and followed him out, her serving woman hopping along behind. She wasn't afraid about Éogan, as frightening as the man was; she was anxious at the thought of seeing Cullen again. Her concern was unwarranted, though, as the only people Emery saw when she entered the hall (other than the obligatory guards) were Naoise and his brothers, Ainle and Ardan, whose backs were to her. Emery's first reaction was joy at seeing them alive, but this situation was loaded--she could feel the tension, and when she approached the brothers, she realized with alarm that they had their hands bound. As she drew level with them, Emery looked at their faces, though none of the three turned toward her. Each was stoic and strong, in spite of their young ages, looking straight ahead, and it was clear they'd not come quietly. Ardan, the youngest, had a bruise covering the side of his face, and Ainle's lip was split. A dark, dried stream was crusted all down Naoise's cheek, originating from somewhere beneath his long, loose black hair, and he, too, had a bloody lip. Emery's heart beat fervently.

Oh, where was her sister? These three men had always been her favorite members of the Red Branch (after Conall Cearnach). Each was so very handsome, youthful and slender and athletic, and their relation was apparent, for they shared the same fair skin, raven hair, and pale blue eyes. But Naoise, the oldest, was also the handsomest, and Emery knew exactly why her sister had fallen for him. Yet even as she could forgive her sister's foolishness, Emery was angry at Naoise. How could he have done something so selfish? How could he have gone and told Deirdre to leave everything behind for this dangerous world? He was old enough and smart enough to have known the trouble his actions would cause. The King would surely try to demand his right with Deirdre, and the thought of it made Emery sick to her stomach.

Conchobar sat smugly on his throne, but rather than join him, Éogan stayed by Emery as she stood before the King. Behind her were Éogan's men, who had stationed themselves amongst the King's guards. Emery waited in apprehension, unsure what exactly she'd walked into.

"Lady Emer," Conchobar called, far too comfortable with the situation. "Come, come. See the men whose treachery you helped discover."

"No—I—!" she looked frantically from them to him, entirely unsure what to say.

"Ah, don't deny it. I'd have had no knowledge of their secretive doings had you not come and informed me. For that, I am grateful. My own nephews, as well! Little did I know them, but it seems my own blood has a habit of turning against me . . ." He left hanging the obvious implication, Cuchulain being his nephew, as well.

"What are you going to do with them? I didn't want you to hurt anyone!"

Conchobar leaned forward in his throne, waggled a finger to draw Emery near, and, when she hesitantly did, said, "That's the benefit of being King, you see. I get to make all the decisions." He plopped back into his seat. "Now! Treachery is an executable offense. This one's life is forfeit—of that, I am certain." He indicated Naoise. "But the other two, I might spare, as it is possible they have acted under the influence of their elder."

Emery looked at the brothers, surprised they weren't fighting or arguing . . . but then it occurred to her that they'd already tried all that, and she had been brought in at the end of whatever torture they'd already endured. Her heart sank; this couldn't be happening. Where was Cullen? Was he all right? Wouldn't he try to help them?

But Conchobar interrupted her panicked thoughts. "Since you do not ask, Lady, I will tell you how they might be spared." He grinned, showing ugly teeth. "As this man could not fulfill his obligations to protect his woman, I will take her as my own wife."

"No!"

"But she is as difficult as you are, Lady Emer," the King went on as if Emery had never objected at all. "I assume this temperament is natural in your branch. I have decided, however, that if you convince her to wed me willingly this evening, I will spare the younger brothers."

Emery's thoughts were tempestuous. She didn't know where to begin. "If I do, spare Naoise as well!" she tried first.

"If I am spared, I would not rest until he were dead," Naoise avowed darkly, not moving otherwise.

"You see? His fate is sealed. But Lady Emer, You may be able to talk sense into this sister. You've a glib tongue, If I recall. We will await your answer."

Emery was ill with distress. Conchobar's affect was far too casual, almost titillated in talking about killing a man to take his wife. As Éogan led her behind the platform, past the King's chambers, and to a small door outside which stood two guards, Emery was reminded of Cú Roí and that poor girl Bláthíne, who'd died due to some horrible man's desire. She couldn't let Deirdre fall into a similar fate. She'd have to protect her at all costs.

But what she hadn't anticipated (though she should have) was that Deirdre had no idea who she was. In fact, the minute the chamber door was opened, Emery ran to her sister, but the girl drew away from her in fear.

"Don't you touch me!" she cried.

Emery paused, arms outstretched in expectation of embracing her sister, but she realized how stupid she'd been. Emery had been erased from Deirdre's life. To Deirdre, they'd never even met.

Deirdre sat on a small though finely cushioned bed in a small though finely decorated chamber, and though she'd clearly been crying for some while and was bedraggled as a stray cat, she was every bit as stunning as Emery remembered. Deirdre had always been a beauty, thick silky waves of hair, deep brown-almost-black eyes, and curves that were, frankly, unfair. Her cheeks were pale with emotion, and her mouth hung half open as if ready to try to talk. She was wearing a velvety red dress over a woven tunic, and it was so flattering that it surely hadn't helped to deter Conchobar.

Emery sat on the edge of the bed. "Deirdre, you don't remember me, but I come from the otherworld, just like you. The one with cars and cell phones and—and Mr. Yager. The weird biology teacher. Does he still have that tie with the lab rats on it?"

Deirdre gasped. "Oh my God! Yes! How do you—? Who are you?"

There wasn't time or reason to explain everything. "My name is Emery, and I also came here because of a man." Ugh. She hated saying it. But it was the truth. "He found me, just like Naoise found you." There was no point in mentioning that Emery had always belonged here, while her sister clearly didn't.

Deirdre crawled a little toward Emery but was still reluctant to touch her. "Please don't let them hurt him. I love him so much!" Tears filled her eyes. "I've never met someone like Naoise. He came to me and . . . he was like a knight from a fairytale! So handsome and so noble. I gave up everything to come here, to be with him, because we're in love. We—we're already married! How can this King try to keep us apart? What right does he have?" At last Deirdre leaned forward and grasped Emery's hands. "Oh please, please don't let them kill Naoise! I'll die if anything happens to him! You know what it's like, don't you? You've been through it, too! Please do something!" She threw herself onto Emery's lap and wept.

The Deirdre Emery had known was sarcastic and strong, funny and clever . . . what had this done to her? One thing was certain—there was no way Emery could let Conchobar touch this girl. But she had a terrible feeling that dissuading him was going to be far more difficult than it had been in her case.

Emery looked to the door and sighed, then caught sight of Charlie. She'd almost forgotten he was still bumbling about like a witch's familiar. "Can you do something?" she asked. "Can you help?"

"Why would I?" croaked the woman.

Yes, Emery thought; why would he? Charlie only hurt. He didn't help. "Because maybe there's some shred of humanity in you?"

"None."

Emery scowled at the old woman's ugly grin and turned back to Deirdre, stroked her hair, tried to offer comfort she was afraid could only be false.

Then something came to her. "What about me? Can I use my magic? Like when I changed my clothes?"

"Dark magic is self-serving. It won't help others."

"Then what good is it?" Emery practically roared. "Fine. I'll figure this out. Self-serving . . . Something I want for myself . . ." She closed her eyes as she held Deirdre in her arms, rocked her back and forth like a child. How can I make this about me? What do I want? Emery wracked her brain, but nothing came. How had she gotten into this mess? Everyone made her so angry. Naoise being so selfish--Deirdre being so foolish--Conchobar being disgusting--Tess and Cat too wrapped up in themselves to care about her--the Red Branch not stepping up to help their own--Charlie being . . . well, Charlie--and Cullen! Cullen most of all! Where was he? Why had he just left? Because she'd hurt him? No. He'd run off because he was a coward. One momentary rejection from her, and off he'd gone, when she actually needed him more than anything. Couldn't he tell she was being poisoned from the inside? Didn't he realize she was going to die? And that lying about it hurt her more than it did him? This was all his fault. All of it. Everything that had happened since she'd first found him stalking her--no, since she'd first met him at that river! He'd been selfish, just like Naoise. He'd done what he wanted and taken her away from comfort and safety--he'd risked her life and her happiness while risking nothing for himself, and now here she was, having to deal with a huge mess she'd never have been a part of if he'd just left her alone!

Give me a way out! Emery screamed internally.

And, just like that, a door appeared in the wall next to the bed on which she sat.