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“The lasses seem to be quite taken with each other,” Reilly said eventually, barely breaking a sweat. “Chatty when they get together, for certain.”

“Seems like they rubbed off on you,” Colin grunted, jumping back as Reilly’s sword whooshed past him.

While he knew he could never be Reilly’s equal in swordplay—he’d never met anyone in all his travels who could—it gave Colin great pleasure to make him train a little harder than he did with others.

Reilly smirked. “Yet somehow I can concentrate on more than a single thing at a time. You, lad, cannot.” And with that, he pinned Colin’s sword down with a flick of his wrist.

Colin swore at him, making Reilly laugh.

“Well, the lasses finally caught wind of the faire. I’ve no idea how Nick kept it a secret for so long.”

“While Brianagh was away, he told the clan to keep it quiet,” Colin informed him. “Not that it did much good.”

They sheathed their swords and headed towards the keep. “Perhaps I’ll stay another day or so. Ellie would probably love to see a faire. Living history and all that.”

“You say it as though you have a choice. At any rate, Gwen’s decided that she’s in no hurry to leave. Before she came to visit me last month, she told her parents she and I would be camping, so they wouldn’t worry when they didn’t hear from her.”

“Camping?” Colin repeated dubiously.

Reilly shrugged. “I’ve met them, and I admit they’re a bit stifling. I don’t judge.”

“You also don’t camp.”

“Not if I can bloody help it,” Reilly agreed as they walked into the shade of the castle and up the stairs. “I’ve spent more nights than I care to remember sleeping on the dirt. Why anyone would do that for fun is beyond my poor imagination. What is Ellie’s take on returning?”

Colin shifted uncomfortably. “Um…I don’t know.”

Reilly gave him a sidelong glance. “We’ve been staying in a drafty old castle, more than five centuries in the past, for the better part of a sen’night.

In my experience with unintended travelers, the first question is usually, ‘When can I go back?’ She must have some sort of opinion on the matter. ”

Colin accepted a mug of ale as they entered the cool shade of the great room. Instead of answering, he took a long drink.

Reilly’s eyes narrowed, then he heaved a long-suffering sigh and rubbed his temple. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“How angry is she for whatever it is you said?”

“How do you know it’s something I said?” Colin muttered.

Reilly quaffed his own drink before chuckling. “Oh, aye. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon, lad.”

Ellie thanked the baker as she handed him a coin in exchange for a biscuit-cookie with fresh honey.

Though she inwardly cringed at handing over the coin—she would have much rather put it in a shadow box in her shop—she was ravenously hungry.

She’d been walking the various stalls all day, her eyes drinking in everything around her.

Even from within the outer bailey, Ellie could hear the echo of lively lutes, violins, and drums. Their small band of merrymakers included Bri and her family, James and Colin, Gwen, and herself, and the closer they came to the cleared field to the east of the village, the more excited Ellie became.

When they arrived, Ellie watched in wide-eyed wonder as men on tall stilts walked past, juggling bags filled with grain.

Children darted between the villagers, screaming with laughter, their cheeks red with exertion as they played chase.

There wasn’t a single frown to be seen; people dressed in bright colors called out from various stands, trying to entice customers to their wares.

The stands themselves were cleverly designed.

Tented using wooden posts, a cloth or leather covering provided a wide, open front, ideal for keeping any rain out and customers in.

Some had painted wooden signs—Claire murmured that those belonged to traveling-faire folk who went from one faire to the next for many months of each year.

They typically sold silks, precious stones, musical instruments, even perfumes—quality craft items from further afield than the average villager would ever travel.

The scents wafting from the food stalls were mouthwatering.

Bri explained the stalls as a sort of fast food; nothing would be considered healthy, and most were of dubious ingredients.

However, if a patron was sick from a particular stall, word traveled fast, and all the villagers avoided it.

As they walked, Ellie overheard Nioclas explain to Colin that the entire purpose of these faires was to network and trade goods, so selling poorly crafted food was counterproductive to their goals.

It made Ellie feel significantly better about the biscuit-cookie in her hand.

The stalls were as diverse as they were loud.

Leather goods, bolts of cloth, spices from faraway places, wooden carvings, jewelry, and tapestries lined the designated pathways.

Artists displayed their works within the walls of their stalls or on rough-hewn tabletops, and many passionate bartering sessions happened simultaneously, making them the loudest and most intense stalls to be around.

“This is one of the bigger faires,” Claire explained as they passed a man swallowing a sword.

They paused to watch him dip it into his throat to the horrified and shocked gasps of the crowd.

When he pulled it back out, he used the blunt side of it to hold out a wooden box tied to a string.

After tossing a coin in, they continued walking.

“Sire had to pay handsomely for the privilege of bringing it here, instead of to one of the cities like Dublin or Galway.”

“Aye. We can only afford to bring it here once every few years, but when he does, Mama is so happy,” Aidan added.

Ellie jumped; she hadn’t realized Claire’s brother had come up on her other side, and he laughed at her surprise.

“Apologies, my lady. I’ve been tasked with babysitting the elder sibling here. ”

Claire threw an elbow into his side, but he snickered in response.

“I hate leather jerkins,” she muttered under her breath.

From Ellie’s other side, Gwen popped up, her face alight with excitement. “Did you hear? Bri and Nick are going to do the dance!”

Claire squealed with excitement. “Oh, hurry! This begins the evening festivities! They’ll light the bonfire after!”

“I can’t believe this,” Gwen exclaimed, grabbing Ellie’s wrist and dragging it towards her mouth. She took a bite of the biscuit in her friend’s hand and groaned. “That. Is. Amazing.”

Quickly, Ellie popped the rest of it in her mouth and gave Gwen a triumphant look. “Can’t steal the rest now, can you?”

“Well that’s not very ladylike.” The unexpected, teasing drawl had Ellie choking, and Colin helpfully slapped her back. “Do you require a drink, my lady?”

Ellie shook her head, trying to clear the last vestiges of the biscuit from her throat (and possibly lungs, because of course it had gone down the wrong tube).

“Then perhaps you’ll instead allow me the pleasure of your company while young Aidan here heads over to the blacksmith.” Colin leaned around Ellie. “Go on, lad, your new sword is ready.”

“Aye!” Aidan exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. “Sire had it commissioned for my birthday last. Thank you for the news, Cousin!”

“Wield it well,” Colin replied gravely; with a nod, Aidan tore off through the crowd.

Ellie forcibly relaxed her now-tense shoulders.

They’d been avoiding each other since the night he kissed her, and according to Gwen, who got her information from Reilly, Colin had thus far been unsuccessful at his attempts to leave the Middle Ages.

Reilly assured Gwen that they weren’t stuck, and that he could take them home whenever they wanted, but both Ellie and Gwen really wanted to see the faire.

Reilly agreed that if Colin couldn’t get them home, he would do so.

But he was insistent that Colin be the one to return them, if it were at all possible.

Gwen was reassured, but Ellie had her doubts. If Colin couldn’t get back, after all his claims of past time traveling, what made Reilly think he could do so?

Gwen had no answer for her, and Ellie had no plans to seek Colin out for his take on the situation, so she resolved to enjoy the time she had in the castle. She also promised herself that she would ignore the crushing pain that appeared in her chest every time she caught sight of Colin.

Easier said than done.

Claire sighed as she realized Colin took Aidan’s place as their head guard, but it lacked any annoyance. “Tell me again, Lady Gwendolyn, how it is when a woman is free to walk about on her own, without a guard of twenty men, and a nanny in charge?”

As Gwen launched into a description of all the cool things she’d done over the years—by herself—Ellie patted Colin’s arm. “I doubt that nanny comment was about you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Claire’s razor tongue has held many men at bay, but I’ve heard much worse. She most definitely meant to call me a nanny.”

Ellie checked her smile and instead let her eyes drift over the goods in the stalls they passed. The crowd became thicker as they neared the center of the faire. Colin carved out a pathway for them and led them to the edge of the makeshift ring.

The sounds of the medieval band warming up were unlike any Ellie had heard before.

The harpist was plucking at the strings and adjusting their tautness.

Another musician was testing the sound of his pipes, which reminded Ellie of Peter Pan’s panpipe, though much bigger than the one she remembered from the animated movie.

The fiddler drew his bow across the strings, eliciting a sweet chord, and another man strummed a lute.

“What is that?” Claire wondered breathlessly, as another note from the lute filtered through the air.