Spring progressed slowly towards summer. This year there were no parties or revels to attend due to the Hufflepuff household technically still being in mourning for Anthony, leaving Rowena with nothing to organize and run. It made keeping up her act much more difficult than it would have been otherwise. She could put off some slip-ups as grief for Anthony, who she had been genuinely fond of, or as being a nervous bride, but not very many. For the most part, she had to continue to act as if Helga's idea of their perfect futures really was going to happen, and it was almost too much to be borne.

"I need something to do," she complained irritably to Helga. "Mary Virgin's Mantle! I feel like a cat in a box."

"You could start planning your wedding," Helga suggested.

Rowena smiled wryly, recalling her wedding. "Isabel's in charge of that," she said. It had been Isabel, along with Setiva, who arranged things so she would be married now. Rising, she began to pace up and down. "Gwyneth's in charge of everything else. Mother of God, there has to be something I can do to pass the time!"

It was almost three weeks before Rowena finally found a project she could channel her energies into. For the majority of each day, she worked on a compendium of spells and other elements of the magical craft. A dangerous piece of work, but she had always thought someone should write it all down. It wasn't long before she was planning a historical work to match it. Gwyneth was fascinated by the work, and Rowena was startled to discover that Gwyneth was only just barely literate. Richard Ravenclaw had entertained advanced ideas about the education of women, but Gwyneth's childhood convent had apparently never adopted the same view. She could read and write just enough Latin to get by with and no more. Her scribe had to read out more complex correspondances. In spite of her resentment towards the Hufflepuff matriarch, Rowena took on expanding Gwyneth's education as another project to fill her days with.

Godric wrote as often as he could manage without it seeming suspicious. Salazar was apparently in a more murderous frame of mind than usual, and, as Godric put it, it was better for everyone if they all humored him until he 'put his head on straight'. Rowena found it somehow amusing that her best friend was so pleased over her marrying a man who seemed more and more mentally unstable by the day. She and Salazar might have done well together, but it was a definite 'might'. Salazar of all people should understand not taking risks without the certainty of rewards, she thought, and found that even more amusing.

Her book was progressing nicely, Gwyneth was on her way to becoming a well-educated woman,Helga was still living in a dream, and all was well with Rowena's world.

It was in the first of the spring weeks where the roses mistake the season for early summer when Francis's letter finally reached Lanast. Gwyneth almost ran to find Helga and Rowena to tell them that the Summer Invitation had been extended once more, with Francis hinting that something of importance was to happen. Gwyneth and Helga naturally assumed that he was referring to Rowena's wedding to Salazar, and Rowena didn't disillusion them. She had decided it would be wiser to sit on the truth for just a little longer, until she was safely at Tintagel. While she was at Lanast, she was on their territory. At Tintagel, she was, theoretically, on her own.

In all the time she had spent at Lanast, Rowena had never known there to be such a flurry. Every denizen of the place with the exception of Rowena herself, who was being treated as if she were made of glass, pulled out all the stops to get Helga and Rowena to Cornwall as quickly as possible, short of making them fly. There were some members of the household who might have suggested that, but even Gwyneth acknowledged that brooms were only for the lower sort of witch or for emergencies, not for the nobility. Rowena also became aware that in between ensuring that everything for her "wedding" was packed, the servants had already begun working on the same things for Helga. From the Hufflepuff perspective, it seemed only a matter of time until Helga would join Rowena as a permanent resident of Tintagel as Godric's wife.

Rowena refused to let herself think about what was going to happen when they reached their destination. She was going back to Tintagel, back to Godric. That was all she was going to think about for now. She would have more than enough time to dwell on the less pleasant aspects of this summer once everything was out in the open. She could forget it, for now. Consequently, she was in a better mood than she had been all spring, bewildering poor Helga.

"Aren't you afraid?" Helga asked curiously. "I should be dreadfully afraid, if I was going to be married."

Rowena laughed. "Why should I be?" she said. "I have nothing but good to look forward to."

Helga, bless her, still looked confused. "If you say so, dear," she said, and let the subject drop.

Even Rowena, though, was willing to admit that her happiness when Tintagel first came into view was highly uncharacteristic. Everything was just as she remembered, from the mists over the Lake to the harsh lines of the castle. It was if she were some queen returning to her native land after a long exile, and that surprised her more than anything. She had not expected to feel so strongly about the place.

Francis had not been feeling himself of late, and so it was Godric who came to meet them this time. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was almost total silence in the courtyard. It was Godric who broke it. "Welcome back to Tintagel,Rowena," he said. He didn't seem to notice that Helga was there.

She smiled. "It's good to be back," she answered, and went on unthinkingly, "It's good to be home."