The next moment I stood on a hill overlooking a village. Beyond the village off in the distance I saw an imposing castle surrounded by high gray walls. A thick wall of trees crowded behind me.

It would have been nice for Chrissy to drop me off a little bit closer to the village, seeing as my backpack must have weighed forty pounds. But then, perhaps it was for the best. Maybe villagers didn’t take well to people flashing into existence in the middle of the town square.

I set off in that direction, peeling off my winter clothes as I went. A slight chill hung in the air but nothing that required a hat, gloves, or a scarf. By my calculations, it was now probably May and, judging by the angle of the 167/431

sun—I’d gotten quite good at that during my last trip to the Middle Ages—it was midmorning. I walked down the hill, too nervous to enjoy the scenery of lush trees, grass, and wildflowers. When I got close to the village the sounds became more distinct. The thud of horse hooves on the street. The twang of a blacksmith’s hammer. The occasional call of wares. I’d apparently come on market day. That worked out nicely, since I had things to sell.

I came to the outskirts of town. Rundown shacks, put together with mostly straw and mud, stood by the path.

Animals and children ran around while the children’s mothers tended to the cooking fires. Some of them whispered and pointed at me, probably pointing out to one another all of the ways I was odd and different—which pretty much described junior high for me, so I didn’t let it rattle me.

Next I noticed the smells. It’s funny how you can smell manure from so far away. Well, not really funny, more like horrible, actually. I had definitely returned.

I walked down the cobblestone street—no sidewalks—and kept checking to make sure I didn’t step on any animal droppings. Other than that, I looked around, trying to catch sight of Tristan’s blond hair. I saw a few blond men, their hair darkened by dirt and grime, but not Tristan.

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I found an inn—at least the sign read The Cat’s Paw Inn— but once I stepped inside it seemed more like a tavern. Benches and tables lined the room with a fair amount of people already eating their noon meal. A scruffy dog wandered from table to table begging for scraps.

A woman with a ruddy complexion walked up to me.

Her gaze traveled over me, clearly not knowing what to make of me. “Can I help you, miss?”

“I hope so. I’m looking for a friend of mine. Tristan Hawkins. Do you know where I can find him?”

“Ah, I should have guessed as much.” She nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. “A foreigner. Are you from the land of Herndon too?”

“Yes.” She knew who Tristan was. I was close. I could feel it. “Where can I find him?” She shrugged. “Probably up in the hills. That’s where he goes most days.”

“The hills?” I let out a sigh, and the energy immediately drained from me. I’d just come from the hills. He’d probably been within earshot. I’d been so quick to assume Chrissy had meant to send me to the village, I hadn’t even called out his name.

“He’ll be back,” the woman said, in response to my disappointment. “He hasn’t missed dinner once.”

“He’s staying here?”

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“Ever since he set out to slay the ogre.” She crossed herself after saying the name. “Filthy beast. We’ll all sleep better once it’s gone. Bad enough that we have to worry about robbers on the road and the dragon in the sky.” She eyed me over again, her gaze stopping on the many rings I wore on my fingers.

“Do you have a place to stay, m’lady?”

“I suppose I’ll need one.” I looked toward the stairs, and the rooms that must be on the second level. “I brought some things from my land to trade with.” I took out a sterling silver ring with three stones—probably glass, although they might have been cubic zirconia. I didn’t feel bad either way. Even glass was valuable in medieval times. “Will this be enough to pay for my food and lodging until I leave?”

She gasped and grabbed the ring from my hand. “I’ll have one of the girls make a room right up.” She also volunteered lodging for my servants and the stable for my horses, but didn’t seem surprised when I told her I had neither, or offended when I told her I’d rather not talk about how I arrived. Wealth apparently brings you unquestioned acceptance.

I ate a dinner of bread and boiled eggs while Scuppers the inn dog sat and watched every movement of my hand. He had such a pathetic expression that I had to feed him. After that I settled into my room. It was small 170/431

with a tiny window that only let a slice of sunlight into the room. A narrow bed stood in the corner, next to a washbasin perched on top of a rickety table. Still, it was private. I had passed by rows of beds in the main room where less wealthy patrons were staying.

Next I went to the market and traded some spices for money and a satchel to carry it in. Then I went to the shoemaker so I could be fitted for some proper lace-up boots, and to the tailor to be fitted for a dress. I also bought a funky-looking hat I’d seen other medieval women wear. This apparently was their answer to a bad-hair century.

All in all, it was the best day I’d spent in the Middle Ages. I went back to the inn and unpacked some more. I was sitting on the floor trying to decide where to put the shampoo and conditioner I’d brought when the door flung open and Tristan walked in.

Chapter 11

I recognized him even though he wore a tunic and leggings like the other medieval men. His hair had grown to his shoulders, shoulders which had become much more muscular over the last eight months. He looked taller, tanner, and somehow so indefinably handsome that I could only stare at him. The medieval look worked for him.

He stared back at me, not especially happy to see me.

“You,” he said, and he glared at me for so long I wasn’t sure if he planned on saying more.

“Hi, Tristan.”

He pointed a finger in my direction. “You sent me here.”

I stood up and the bottle of shampoo slipped from my fingers to the ground. “No, I didn’t. It was all an accident, really.”

His eyes didn’t leave my face. I’d never noticed what an intense blue they were, although maybe they were just intense because he was using them to burn holes in-to me. He took slow steps across the room toward me.

“Your fairy godmother told me that you asked her to send me here.”

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I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that.” He took more steps and held up both hands for emphasis. “I know I announced to the entire track team that your bikini top came off, but most girls would just get over that, not call upon magical forces to toss somebody back into the Middle Ages.” I took a step backward, and then another. “I didn’t tell Chrissy to send you here. And I came to help you as soon as I heard you were missing.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s been over eight months, Savannah. It took you eight months to notice I was gone?”

“No. Time is different here. One week in this place is only an hour back home. In Virginia it’s still the Monday morning after you left. School hasn’t even started yet.” For the first time his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a deep breath. “How are my parents? Are they really worried?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure they are. I didn’t see them before I left.”

His expression grew intense again. “You didn’t tell them where I was?”

“Sure, Tristan. I marched right over to your house and told them my fairy godmother sent you back in time.” I held out a hand to him, trying to make him see my point. “They wouldn’t have believed me.” 173/431

He shut his eyes. When he opened them he looked at the ceiling and not at me. “I’ve been here too long. Magic doesn’t seem peculiar anymore.” He dragged his gaze away from the ceiling and looked back at me. “So is your fairy godmother going to set everything right?” I twisted the material of my skirt around my fingers just to give them something to do. “Um, actually no.