"I still don't see why we need to visit the castle again," Killian complained. "The place is bloody cold and the old despot in charge is terrible company."

"Come on, we need to get some more answers now that we know Brandt's side of the story." Emma said, making her way past the crumbling facade near the portcullis. "Watch it," she said, pointing at the crumbling brick. "This place is hazard."

"The King has already told me all he has to tell, love. I don't know what else you think you'll get out of him. "

Emma kept walking through the courtyard, nodding at the lone guard up on the parapet before she opened the creaking, somewhat warped door and stepped into the keep.

"We're not talking to the king," she said, motioning her husband forward.

"We're not?" He looked at her, confused.

"No. We're going to look around." Emma stopped, pulling him into an alcove and lowering her voice. "If Brandt is telling the truth, that baby's mother lived here once. Maybe we can find some information about her family or something. That way if Finn brings the girl back, we can point her somewhere, at least."

"That's a very good idea," Killian said, raising a brow.

"This surprises you?" Emma gave him a look that clearly said it shouldn't.

"I just wish I'd thought of it first." He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "Let's get it done, then. I'm freezing my arse off."

They moved deeper into the castle, checking various rooms as they went. The place was mostly deserted, and the few servants left didn't seem to care much that there were strangers roaming about. They found the King sitting in the same parlor he'd greeted them in when they'd arrived, sound asleep in his chair. Emma peeked in the door, rolled her eyes and they kept on moving.

A search of the upstairs showed several empty chambers that had been stripped down to bare walls - not even a stick of furniture remained.

"He must've sold off a lot of the furnishings," Killian said. "He's run through all the gold he'd had." He stepped out of one of the rooms and back into the hallway, only to find Emma straining with the knob on a closed door.

"This is the only closed door we've encountered," she pointed out. "My guess is there's a reason why. Give me a hand, here."

"Can't you just pick the lock?" Killian moved over to join her.

"I did. It's stuck. I think the door is warped or something." She leaned in, and Killian put his shoulder to the door next to her. Together the pushed, and the door moved in a few inches. One more good, hard shove and they had enough room to squeeze through.

"What the hell...?" Emma stepped further into the room, her mouth open wide. Killian's reaction was exactly the same.

"How the devil is this here?" He asked, his face a mask of incredulity.

All around them was green. Large pots and trays and boxes held fruit trees and bushes and flowering plants, and they lined three of the four walls. All of it appeared to be irrigated by an aqueduct system, fed from a cistern mounted outside above the balcony. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in more than enough natural light. This must have been some sort of conservatory, but it was in a wing with bedchambers, which made no sense.

"Did you notice the lock?" Emma said. "It was on the outside of the door."

"Why would you want to lock someone into a conservatory?" Killian mused. "Or was it converted at a later date, perhaps?"

"I don't know," Emma said, walking through and lifting branches and leaves out of her way. "These look like they haven't been tended in years. They're all overgrown."

"I can't believe they'd just keep going by themselves, love. Someone had to have fertilized the soil and tended them to some degree. They can't just grow on their own, especially here."

Emma looked at Killian. "What did Brandt say? If it grows wild, it grows...it's only if you plant it that it won't grow."

Killian gestured to the room around him. "I'd hardly call this a natural environment. These trees and shrubs didn't plant themselves in the middle of a castle."

"So why is this exempt from the curse? Is this the King's own private stash or something?"

Killian shook his head. "That door hasn't been opened any time in recent history. I don't think he even knows it's here." He walked over, nudging a pile with his boot. "The fruit's all fallen to rot. Some of this even looks petrified."

"Killian." Emma stood in the middle of the room. "There's a bed under all that."

"What?" He moved forward, peering down at what he'd thought was some kind of built in flowerbox. He could see now that it was a bed, covered in dirt and grass, flowering in places, despite the cold outside. "Is that a table next to it?" He pushed a large swath of vines aside to uncover the wood beneath. It was a small bedside table, with a drawer.

It took a few tries and some vine ripping before he was able to move the drawer enough to get his hand inside. "Wait a minute...I've got something..." He tugged a little more, pulling loose a few sheets of yellowed, crumbling paper and a book that was badly falling apart.

"What is it?" Emma asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Some sort of journal, but there's not much here. No writing, just pictures." He held it up, turning it left and right. "I'm not even sure what I'm looking at."

"Let me see," Emma said, putting her hand out. She took the papers, leafing through them. "It looks like people, but whoever drew these wasn't much of an artist. Somebody with a bow...and that looks like a couple of fish. And over here...this is just some kind of giant tree or something."

Emma looked up from her musings. "Do you see anything else? If there's furniture, maybe there's a desk or something."

"How about a wardrobe?" Killian asked, pointing toward the far wall. "I'd hazard a guess that's what the big green lump in the corner is."

It took a lot more chopping and pulling to get the door open this time, and once they did, all that greeted them was a wardrobe full of dusty women's clothing.

"Well, someone lived here all right," Emma said, looking through the blouses and skirts hung and folded within. "This is all very royal looking. Lots of frills and expensive material." She turned back to Killian. "Nothing else to see here."

"So we may have found what used to be the queen's bedchamber," Killian reiterated.

"Or another female relative."

"Possibly," Killian said, stroking his beard. "But I don't recall meeting any other relations when we were here last. Do you?"

Emma shook her head. "No. Just Markus. And he was busy hunting down a baby." Emma folded up the pieces of paper they'd found in the drawer, stuffing them down inside the pocket of her cloak. "C'mon. Let's see what else we can find."

###

Finn stood in the middle of the room, thinking furiously. She couldn't have gone far. Why in the hell would she think she could go anywhere at all? She had no idea how to get around in this realm. He walked toward the balcony, hoping that somehow he was missing her as she stood out on it, but of course, she wasn't there. The door to the balcony had been left open, however, so she must have stepped out here.

He glanced over the wall, feeling his gut clench at the thought that she might have fallen somehow. There was no body lying anywhere that he could see, on the path around the castle wall or in the garden below the balcony.

His face broke into a slow grin as he took a deep breath, getting the scent of the flowers and plants below in full force. He leaned against the wall in relief, having a fairly good idea where she was now.

Less than two minutes later, he was down the back staircase and out the postern door that led into the garden. He stayed off the stone path to avoid making noise with his bootheels, preferring instead to walk on the grass. He'd just rounded a row of tall hedges when he saw her.

She was lying on the grass, looking up at the stars. He walked over quietly, then laid down next to her, looking up as well.

"You nearly had me rousing the stable attendants and forming a search party, you know," he commented. "You've got to stop running away."

"I ran to the backyard," she pointed out. "That's not away."

"Yes it is." He reached up, folding his hands behind his head. "You're running from me. Why else would you be out here?"

Bryony didn't answer him at first, choosing instead to just keep gazing at the sky. Finally, she said softly, "You're going to think this is crazy."

He turned his head to the side to look at her. "Try me."

"Well," she said, wetting her lips delicately with her tongue. "I was out on the balcony just taking a look around - and what I could see was beautiful, by the way - when I caught the smell of the flowers and the earth and...I can't explain it."

"You had to see it? In the dark? It couldn't wait until morning?"

"No," she said, trying to put her feelings into words. "I had to feel it. To put my hands in the dirt and feel it between my fingers. To smell it and touch it and break it in my hands." She looked over at him. "I know that's crazy."

"Not so very crazy, love. This is your homeland, after all. Your realm, I mean. Perhaps not your kingdom, but where you were meant to be."

His hand reached down, covering hers. She pulled out of his grasp, sitting up abruptly. "Finn...don't."

"What? I still owe you a night under a sky full of stars, and I'm feeling entirely better now," he informed her. "We can pick up right where we left off." He reached up, running his hand up and down her back. She shrugged his arm off and got to her feet.

"I'm going back inside," she said, brushing herself off.

Finn rolled up to his feet next to her, reaching out to take her arm. "Wait...is this about Marianne? You don't need to fret about her, love, I've taken care of the situation."

"The situation," she deadpanned. "So that's what she was? A situation?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Let me guess...you've got a situation in every port, right?"

"What the devil is that supposed to mean?" He asked, testily.

"It's okay. I understand. And it's not like you and I had anything going, really," she shrugged.

"What?" He was starting to get really put out, and wasn't making any effort to gloss it over. "We didn't have anything going? You've been dreaming about me your whole bloody life."

She froze a second then looked at him calmly. "Just because I've had visions of you doesn't mean you or I are under any kind of obligation, here."

"Obligation?" Finn was good and miffed now. "I am no one's obligation, love. And neither are you. A few hours ago I could have finished what we started." He stepped in entirely too close. "And you would have let me."

The look in his green, green eyes said that he dared her to refute that. She had a feeling if she did, he'd feel entitled to prove it to her, and she couldn't let that happen. She'd let herself get carried away a little with Finn, but now she saw him in his own surroundings, and the last thing she needed was some princely Casanova twisting her up in emotional knots. Besides, they still hadn't figured out her visions, and until they did, she was most likely a danger to him.

She took two steps back, to where she wasn't feeling the heat of him through his shirt and hers anymore. It was incredibly hard. She could smell the flowers and the earth and she wanted, oh, how she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and let him take her down to it. She had to be strong. And she had to get out of here, because the way he was looking at her said he knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"Goodnight, Finn." She turned and started walking down the path to the door, pulling it open and making her way inside to the stairs. She'd climbed about halfway up when he called her name. She paused with her hand on the railing, but didn't look back.

"What?" she answered.

"My room is next to yours, if you need me."

She closed her eyes. Of course it was. "I'll be fine, thanks," she said, starting to climb the stairs again.

"Bryony."

This time she looked over her shoulder at him. "Yes?"

He crossed his arms, looking at her intently, even while a smile teased the corner of his mouth.

"This isn't over, love. It's only just begun."