The girls had their way, in the end. Lir forced Charlie along to the pool with them, where they sat behind a crop of rocks while Tess and Emery took their time swimming. The water was ice cold, but Emery had never felt so much that she needed the wake-up those waters brought. She was heartbroken about what had happened to Deirdre. No matter how many times Tess might try to tell her it wasn't her fault, Emery couldn't help but think it was. Perhaps Conchobar would've done what he did regardless of timing, but Emery had been the one in the very beginning to allow her sister to accompany her to Camp Hack-a-back long ago, where Naoise had first seen her, and maybe if Emery had found a way to help Naoise when he'd asked about the portal instead of brushing him off, he wouldn't have gone about everything in such a secretive way. And Emery certainly shouldn't have let Charlie talk her into going to Conchobar for help.

Oh, the whole thing and all the mistakes she'd made in regards to it were too painful to think about.

When they had finished swimming and tidied themselves as best as possible, the girls returned to the expedient camp. Cathbad had wrapped Deirdre's body and asked the soldiers to create a stone pyre, and they were to burn her remains. The druid presided over the affair, and by the time they actually got around to lighting the pyre, it was well into night. They'd spent much time locating grasses and the most fitting foliage they could find to place around Deirdre's body, and Cathbad had managed to obtain candles from somewhere within his robes, which he burned along with incense, creating a strange menagerie of scent. Emery didn't understand most of what he did, but he kept close to Deirdre for some while, anointing her and saying words over her and in general maintaining a very solemn atmosphere. Those who had remained were few, but they stood and watched in silence, and when at last Cathbad tipped the candles and the body caught fire, Emery's tears were so spent that there were no more to cry.

Tess stood by her the whole time, her arm in Emery's, and Lir was at her other side, tall and stately in his white and blue robes, his Godliness producing a faint shimmer around his form that confused the eye if one stared at it too long. He kept Charlie in his sight at all times, though Charlie himself sat against a tree a short ways off, thinking who-knew-what about all that was happening. Bricriu and the few other remaining soldiers, all young men and women of the King, kept reverent stances throughout, though Emery couldn't bring herself to look back at them.

The flames lit up the night like a bonfire, and Emery wondered what it looked like from the other side, if she'd been in a boat on the water, gazing up at the cliffs to see a bright orange star flickering midway between sea and sky. And she thought of their older sister, Neve, all alone, now, and of what the world Deirdre had left behind would believe of her absence. She thought of the dissonance between that world and this one and how Deirdre wouldn't have fit in either, after finding her love in one but being brought up in another. And as sad as all of it was, the thought did cross Emery's mind that maybe this was a kinder ending for her sister than the slow death of trying to find her way in a place that would always remain foreign to her. Surely the flutterings of first love that she'd felt for Naoise would've faded into reality, and reality was harsh even in the contemporary world; here, it could be absolutely cruel. Deirdre would've never been able to forget the amenities of her old life. In this place, there would be childbirth at fifteen or sixteen, a husband always off fighting, no modern medical advancements, dark and frightening magic and the even darker intentions of other humans who had little fear of their crimes being discovered, hard work and constant discomfort--surely Deirdre would've grown to believe she'd made a mistake, but it would've been too late.

These thoughts gave Emery some small comfort, though she couldn't seem to quash the anger simmering beneath it all, anger at her sister's end and at all those whose selfishness caused such sadness. And she rebuked herself, as well, for previously comparing Naoise to Cullen. Cullen hadn't been selfish in coming for her. In fact, everything he'd done to protect her had been selfless. He'd done it out of love. But perhaps Naoise had truly loved Deirdre, too, and that notion made Emery even sadder.

After an hour or so, people began to stir. The flames would burn until they could burn no more, which might take hours. Tess went to Cathbad, and Emery turned to Lir. "You haven't said why you're here."

Lir's eyes caught the flames but didn't quite reflect them so much as absorb them. That intrigued Emery, but his words turned her attention. "Why did you run from me, with Fear Doirich?"

Emery's shoulders sagged. She looked back to the pyre. "Because nothing matters, anymore."

"You didn't wait for me to speak with Mug Ruith."

"Why, did he say anything different?"

Lir sighed, didn't want to answer. "No."

Emery had figured as much.

"But Fear Doirich is not your friend. He means only to follow you about, to torment you, until they're ready for you."

"You think I don't know that?" Emery glanced at Charlie, who still sat nearby, his eyes on her as they had been the whole time. "But what am I supposed to do? I can't get rid of him."

"I might have found a way--"

But before he could say more, the sound of approaching horses turned everyone's heads, and before anyone could react, Cullen and Cearnach and Keltar had ridden into the wide ring of light cast by the funeral pyre. Each of them dismounted, looking weary, and before doing or saying anything else, approached the flames and stood for several moments, Cearnach even going so far as to place a dark sack on the ground near though not actually in the fire. Emery stood and watched those huge men pay their respects to her sister and felt renewed grief along with a sense of gratitude. And when a fair amount of time had passed, the three turned and went their ways, Cearnach and Keltar off toward a campfire, where soldiers were roasting meat and fish, and Cullen toward Emery.

Seeing Lir, Cullen inclined his head briefly, but then their eyes met, and Emery sensed that they exchanged some sort of tacit message. She was annoyed and, of course, curious, but they gave her no opportunity for questions. Lir called past them to Charlie, ordering him to come along (which he grudgingly did), and the four of them moved toward the small tent Emery had earlier rested in. The tent was so small--it'd been hardly big enough for her and Tess--and yet Lir indicated he wished her to enter. The situation did not seem one for sarcasm or humor, so Emery did as she was told, and when she pushed through the fabric flap, she saw to her amazement that while the tent was small on the outside, it had expanded considerably on the inside, making it large enough for the four of them as well as Tess and Cathbad, who were already there, waiting.

Surely it was one of Lir's tricks, to do this with the tent, and it was also one of his tricks to give it a warm interior light when there was no fire. But Emery was immediately ill at ease. Why were they all gathered here, now? Tess and Cat and Cullen were so serious, standing three in a row across from her and Charlie, who crept up to her side and shot an icy look at her.

"Lir intends to tell them," he whispered as loud as he dared. "You know what will happen if they find out."

"What is this?" Emery asked everyone, eyes darting from one to the other. She smirked. "Some sort of intervention? Really?" She turned to Lir and was about to say more, but Cathbad cut her off.

"Lady," he said, stepping slightly toward her, "there is much you aren't telling us."

The girl crossed her arms, trying to control her apprehension. "We all keep secrets, Cat." She said it to the druid, but her eyes flicked to Cullen as well.

"Yes, and it's what's caused so much trouble for us, isn't it? Please--" He held up his hands to keep her from speaking. "This morning, when I tended you--" He looked uncomfortable. Instead of continuing with words, he motioned to her neck, then to her wrist. Emery gripped her bandaged arm, raised a hand to her throat, confused. "Bruising, Emery," Cathbad clarified.

She was startled. Yes, Charlie had put his hands on her more than once, but she hadn't realized he'd left marks; it wasn't as if there were mirrors readily available. Emery looked nervously at Cullen, who was barely restraining himself. He was unkempt and even, she noticed, somewhat bloody (though the blood did not seem to be his own), and his dangerously vibrant eyes were not on her but on Charlie.

"Believe me," Charlie spoke suddenly, chillingly, meeting Cullen's glare with mutual hatred, "she gives as good as she gets."

The Sword of Light was out of its sheath so quickly Charlie would've surely been killed had not Emery anticipated Cullen's action and pushed Fear Doirich behind her. "Stop!" she cried. "You--you can't!"

"Let me do what you've asked of me!" shouted Lir, cutting short any budding argument. "Cuchulain, you impulsive fool! Do you mean to kill your wife?" Everyone turned to the God in varying degrees of fear and agitation. "Give me the blackthorn, druid."

Cathbad fished around in his robe and retrieved a grizzled twig about the size of his thumb, which he handed to the God. The effect on Charlie was immediate. He clutched at Emery with a terror she hadn't known he could express, but before he could try anything, Lir had stepped toward him and muttered something, and Charlie spun into a thread of glittering smoke that the knotted black branch seemed to suck right up.

Emery just stood there in shock. "How did . . .? I can't be away--"

"I know," Lir interrupted. He drew a thin cord from the air and twisted it around the end of the twig, then tied the ends and hung the talisman around her neck. "He is very much with you, still, only he is contained. Do not lose this, or you will suffer."

Emery examined the twig. "Is he--is he aware?"

"Absolutely. He hears and knows all you do."

"Can he get out?"

"Only if you allow him to, and you can also put him back with a simple command. You control him, now, but be careful. The Dark Man is not to be trusted."

Emery first felt obvious relief, mixed with excitement; the thought of having Charlie under her thumb was gratifying. And yet, as what had happened began to sink in, she sensed a strange discontent, as well. Whatever had been going on with Charlie, it was something no one else would understand. She hated him, for sure, but she'd also needed him. Even as she stood there, thanking Lir for what he'd done, she was frustrated that the God had done it without consulting her first, and she was determined to see Charlie again. She wrapped her fingers around the talisman as she made up her mind, as if to pass him the message.

"You can tell us everything, now," Tess said imploringly to her friend. "Charlie can't stop you!"

Emery looked to Lir. He knew it had nothing to do with Charlie. He knew that she couldn't tell them the truth. Why had he put her in this position?

"My friend," Lir said in response to her visible annoyance, "forgive me for this."

"For what?"

But Lir suddenly pulled a weapon on her and held the sword tip at her throat, catching Emery entirely by surprise. "Meet Fragarach, The Answerer. Go on, Cuchulain. She'll tell you whatever you ask."

"Are you serious?" Emery cried, infuriated. "How dare you threaten me!"

Cullen stepped toward her, his handsome features contorted into a pained expression. "I must, Emery."

She could only stare at him in rage and confusion. Did they really think a sword at her throat would convince her to talk? She knew they'd never hurt her.

"Tell me where you were, all the time I sought you."

Emery almost laughed at him, to think he could believe she'd tell him anything just because Lir--but contrary to absolutely everything she thought, she found the answer coming right out of her: "Fear Doirich took me to an underground bunker, in the other world, the one where Tess and I were, before we came here. He kept me there most of the time, until the end, when he took me to a city, to a terrifying place where--" She clapped her hands to her mouth in shock and horror, tried to keep the words from continuing to tumble out. What was happening?

"I knew as much," Lir said to the others. "Ask on."

Cullen took a deep breath, rubbed his shoulder as if hating the task, and asked, "What was in that place?"

Lir reached over and pulled Emery's hands from her lips, and she was compelled to reply. "Nightmares. Monsters. Charlie said they were Fomorians." Her misery was evident as she spoke; her cheeks were bright red in with humiliation. "Please don't ask me more!" she begged weakly,

But Cullen, though he looked utterly ashamed of himself, didn't stop. "And what did they do with you?"

Emery shook her head, closed her eyes toward him, struggled to control her breath. "They . . . they . . ." Oh, she didn't want to say it! To relive it, to tell them of her shame! She fought against the compulsion but ultimately could not win. "He—Bres—he cut me, and he cut himself, and he—he held my wrist to his . . ." Emery was straining with every fiber of her being to keep it in, but she was too weak. "He put Darkness in me. I wasn't supposed to let him! But I--I didn't know--I didn't know what they wanted from me. I let him do it, but I didn't know what it was." She choked back tears. "And it's only a matter of time before they want me back, and I think--I think they'll kill me." Entirely depleted, the girl fell to her knees.

Cullen moved toward her, but Lir intervened. "No, not yet." He put his sword back under Emery's chin.

"I will ask no more," Cullen declared, distressed. "Let me--"

Tess came forward. "I'll ask. If she hates me for it, so be it. Emery, why didn't you tell us any of this? Why did you lie about Charlie?"

The worst truth of it was out. Emery didn't have the willpower to fight whatever magic of Lir's this was. Her gaze on the ground, her fingers clenching handfuls of grass and dirt, she answered as freely as if there were no coercion. "I didn't tell you because the druid Mug Ruith said anyone I told would get hurt. And Lir knows that, too, so I don't know why he's made me tell you. And Charlie has to stay with me, or I feel such pain. Whatever they put in me--Darkness--it has to be close to other dark things." She sniffled, watched as her tears fell between her fingers. "I'm--I'm changing. I feel it. I can use magic, and it scares me. Every time I do, Bres comes to me in my dreams, and I get sick, and . . . . and . . . there's nothing any of us can do about it. Mug Ruith said there's n-no hope." She buried her head between her arms in concomitant catharsis and shame.

"It is enough," Cullen insisted. "Ask her no more."

She felt his hand on her shoulder but pushed him away. "Don't touch me," she ordered. She might have been exhausted and defeated, but she was still furious they'd made her talk. She turned toward the tent wall and curled up into herself.

"Go, all of you," she heard Cullen order, and there were shuffling sounds as they all filed out, no doubt to discuss what she'd just told them.

Emery knew Cullen was still there, but she would not look at him. Even in the silence that followed, in which he was no doubt attempting to figure out how to appease her, she refused to give him any bit of hope that he could. What he did eventually say, though, was nothing close to what she'd expected: kneeling next to her, speaking so low he almost whispered, Cullen said, "The druid--Mug Ruith--he lies. It was he who did our handfasting at Tara. He foresaw this, and he gave me the answer even then, though I knew not what it meant until just now. We can cure you, my Emer. We can."