Cora felt like she slept for a thousand years. When she woke, it was uneasily — she had the strongest sense that she’d had a thousand dreams that she couldn’t remember, but for vague fragments and snatches…a gout of flame, red fabric, a series of stern, unforgiving faces and a deep, guttural sense of fear and dread. She sat up in bed and reached for the beads at her throat, running them through her fingers in an unconscious gesture that calmed and steadied her. The tiny wooden cross that hung from them she tucked under the neckline of her dress. It was looking a little worse for wear.

As she’d been sleeping, someone must have come into the room and left a pile of fresh clothes at the end of the bed. Margaret, probably — that woman moved incredibly quietly when she wanted to. Not that Cora probably would have woken up even if a herd of elephants had trampled into the room. Still feeling groggy and out of sorts, but too awake now to return to sleep, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. Yes, a change of clothes was a good idea. She unbuttoned the dress with clumsy hands and pulled it over her head, casting it aside distastefully — she’d find out about laundry arrangements later. The gown they had left for her was simple, but comfortable, the fabric a little rougher than she was used to, but a big improvement on the grimy dress she’d been wearing for more than a day.

She could certainly use a bath, though. She’d splashed a little water on her face after the birth, and obviously had cleaned the blood and assorted bodily fluids from herself, but it had still been a long time. A long, hot shower would be absolute heaven, but somehow she doubted that medieval Scotland’s plumbing was going to measure up to her expectations. Sleep had seemed to settle her a little — she felt much less insane when she faced the reality of her situation. Medieval Scotland was where she was, and she was damn well going to make the most of it.

She was starving, though. Food hadn’t exactly been high on her list of priorities. As if by magic, as she thought of food, her eyes fell upon the small table that stood by the door — there was a small plate of pastries, cheese and fruit laid there.

“I love you, Margaret,” she murmured, almost sprinting across the room to jam an entire pastry into her mouth. It was tart and sweet, some kind of preserved fruit, the pastry deliciously flaky and clearly homemade. She supposed everything had to be homemade — it wasn’t as though you could just pop down to the local shops for some frozen pastry, after all. God, this place was going to take some getting used to.

Once she’d wolfed down the pastries and most of the cheese (and discreetly dusted the crumbs from her front) Cora decided it was time to talk to Audrina. Really, she ought to let the woman rest — after all, she’d just given birth to twins — but for God’s sake, there were extenuating circumstances, here. Besides, it sounded like she was the Lady of the castle. She’d have plenty of time and leisure to rest. That Laird of hers would make sure of it, Cora knew.

She wandered out into the corridor and drifted down it, taking a bit more time to get her bearings. The castle wasn’t so difficult to navigate once you were paying attention — the layout was simple if you ignored how similar all the winding hallways were. She found her way down to the kitchen, where she was pleased to see Ian seated at a long bench alone, setting about a plateful of pastries like the ones that had been in her room.

“I hope you’ve had some rest too,” she challenged, sitting across from him.

He looked up with a start, hastily swallowing the mouthful of pastry he’d been working on, and she laughed.

“No need to stand on ceremony. When you’ve eaten, would you mind showing me back to Maeve’s room? I’d like to check up on how she’s recovering.”

“I imagine you two have a lot to talk about,” he replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough. Strange dreams.”

Ian nodded. “Maeve had those too, when she first arrived. I’m sure she’ll tell you about them herself. C’mon, lass.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Cora. Force of habit, you understand.”

She shrugged. “I suppose ‘lass’ is alright. So long as you don’t go back to ‘girlie’.”

Ian led her through the winding passages and up several narrow flights of winding stairs — all these people must have incredibly muscular calves, Cora thought grumpily to herself as her legs complained about all the unaccustomed effort. She lived in a ground-floor single-story apartment — or at least, she had lived in one. God, she hoped someone would come by and feed her cats…the lady in the apartment next door had always been friendly. She’d notice, surely, if Cora didn’t come home, and she knew where the emergency spare key was kept…besides, the cats had a cat flap. They wouldn’t just stay in the house and starve to death. Would they?

“Here’s her room. I’ll leave you both to it,” Ian said quietly, sketching her an odd little bow before leaving her in the hallway. It looked less intimidating in daylight, sun filtering through onto the paved floor. She tapped a few times on the solid oak doors, heard a voice inside calling for her to come in.

There was Audrina, propped up in the bed by a mountain of pillows with her husband by her side. He was holding one of the babies, gently dabbing at its face with a handkerchief or small piece of fabric. Audrina was feeding the other one, looking for all the world like she’d been doing it for years — a more confident young mother Cora had never seen. A smile split across Audrina’s face when she saw Cora. For a little while last night, she’d been doubting her own sanity — surely it couldn’t be Audrina, not really, not in this strange place. She was just a woman who bore a striking resemblance, she’d told herself, some Scottish woman that Cora had, in desperation, seized upon as a familiar presence. But no — she’d know that smile anywhere, and that shock of wild red hair (she noticed with amusement that Audy had found time to brush it. It was her only vanity, that glorious hair.)

“Audrina James, you madwoman.”

“Audrina MacClaran, I think you’ll find,” Colin pointed out, a teasing quality in his voice. He gently rocked the baby in his arms, beaming down at it.

“Cora can call me whatever she likes.”

Cora nodded, smiling. “You can call yourself Queen Latifah as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe it’s really you. You know you’ve been gone for two years?”

Audrina nodded. “That sounds right. I’ve been here for two years, too.” She frowned. “Of course. You didn’t — you wouldn’t have known where I went.”

“Oh, no, it was obvious. Medieval Scotland, of course.”

She laughed, her nose crinkling in that endearing way it always had — Cora crossed to sit on the bed beside her, her heart full of joy to see her friend again.

“Cora, I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so upset. We always promised to be there for each other — to look after each other no matter what — and I just…disappeared one day.”

“It was hard,” Cora admitted. “I was terrified you’d been kidnapped or killed or worse. The police searched for a little while, but they just assumed you’d had an accident somewhere...” She was embarrassed to realize there were tears in her eyes.

Audrina took her hand in her free one and gave it a squeeze, a comforting gesture. “Nothing like that, thank god. It was crazy. I just — woke up in a field, surrounded by cows.”

Cora laughed. “I woke up on a dirt road and nearly got trampled by a horse.”

“Ian’s black gelding? I don’t know why he insists on riding that creature. It’s thrown him more times than I can count.”

“He’s a stubborn man,” Colin interjected from the other side of the room, where he’d been tucking the baby into a wooden crib. “And very taken with you, from what I heard, Cora.”

Cora fought an uncharacteristic urge to blush. “He brought me here. I’m very grateful.”

“Not as grateful as we are,” Colin said firmly. “I strongly believe the Lord God himself brought you here.”

“You were keeping your promise,” Audrina murmured, squeezing Cora’s hand again. “Remember? We swore we’d always be there for each other when it counted. You always used to say you’d kill me if I ever had a baby without you there.”

Cora laughed. “Well, here I am. You gave it a damn good shot but you couldn’t get away from me. But — please, there’s got to be more to this story.” She gestured around the room — at the Laird, the babies, the castle itself.

“Well. It’s a long story and I’ll admit I don’t fully understand it. You know what a skeptic I’ve always been. But — it seems my ancestor was a woman named Maeve. On the night of her wedding — to Colin, here — she was taken away by a cruel English lord. Have you ever heard of Prima Noctem? Basically, a Lord claims the right to deflower every new bride on her wedding night. It’s barbaric, honestly.”

“And it’s over,” Colin added menacingly, suddenly seemingly taller in the small space. Definitely not a man Cora would ever want to get on the wrong side of.

“But this man kept her longer than one night — did truly terrible things to her. But he didn’t count on her power. She cast some kind of — of spell, or ritual — she called through the years to her descendants, to return to her love and get revenge on her tormentor. Then she — well, she died.” Audrina — Maeve — looked deeply saddened at this, and Colin touched her shoulder and bent to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “A year later, I appeared. Called by her, through time and space, back to Scotland. Back to my love.” She smiled up at Colin — a look Cora had never seen on her face before. Pure love.

“You were always obsessed with Scotland, weren’t you? No wonder, if some — some ancestor was calling to you your whole life.”

“I was confused at first,” she admitted. “I had no idea why everyone seemed to recognize me, and even as I learned about Maeve I didn’t think I could live up to her memory. But as time went on, I began to remember. Dreams, mostly, and visions — memories that she shared with me. We’re not the same person exactly, she and I, but I think we share the same spirit.”

“I’m sure of it,” Colin murmured.

“Why else would I have fallen in love with this big brute?” Audrina joked, gently punching Colin on his broad shoulder.

He chuckled, curling an arm around her shoulders and pretending to mess up her hair, though Cora noticed he was careful to only displace a few strands — even in teasing he was respectful. Her approval of this strange Scottish lord continued to rise. Cora had always had incredibly high standards for the kind of men she’d allow anywhere near her beloved friend — they’d spent long nights arguing over whether or not bad behavior from would-be suitors could be tolerated or not. But this man — she had to admit, her Audy had done rather well for herself. Colin gathered up the other baby from his wife’s chest and she wrapped her gown around herself, watching him fondly as he tucked his daughter into bed in the crib beside her brother.

“So I guess — this is it, huh? You’re not coming home?”

“This is home,” Audrina said firmly. “My life here — my family — they’re more real than anything ever was back home. I wouldn’t go back even if I could.”

“I would,” Cora said bluntly. “No offense, but — I have a life back home. Responsibilities.”

“You could have a life here, Cora! It’s — it’s beautiful here. You ought to see the sun rise over the heather — and god, the castle could use a midwife and healer with your skillset. We lost a great midwife shortly after I went missing, and the castle as well as the village have been all the worse for it. I’ve helped with a few births, but you know it was never my strong suit.”

Cora hesitated. “Look, I — I don’t know. I’m so glad you’re here, Maeve, and you’re happy and thriving and alive. Honestly, I am. But I — San Francisco is my home. I never had your wanderlust. I want to go back, if I can. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, though her eyes were sad. “If we can get you home, we will, Cora. But — can you stay for a little while, at least? I’ve missed you so much...”

Cora threw her arms around Audrina, pulling her close, half-laughing and half-crying. Audrina returned the embrace, burying her face in Cora’s hair.

“My dearest friend,” Cora murmured into her ear. “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”