Morena shot him a sweet smile. “Dream, my darling. A man should have his dreams. You can ride Blue,” she told Marco. “And we’ll go get you that ale, and the gingerbread my nan planned to make today.”
“I could go for it.”
“You’ll test those skills by saddling Blue.”
On their way to the paddock, Amish swooped down, landed on the gatepost. Marco jumped half a foot.
“Ah now, Marco, I’ve wings, don’t I now, and they don’t trouble you.”
“It’s not the wings so much. It’s the beak, and the eyes. The eyes that look right at you and I hear him thinking: I bet your tongue tastes real good.”
With a shake of her head, Morena pulled Marco into the paddock. “I’ll make you a solemn vow: He won’t eat your tongue or any other part of you.”
“Does he know that?”
“If I know it, he knows it.”
“Wait a minute, Marco. I’ve got something for you.” Breen pulled the pouch out of her pocket as she went into the paddock.
“I get a reward for not falling off a horse? Cool.” He opened the pouch, pulled out the bracelet. “Wow. Seriously rocking. Thanks, girl. Where’d you get it? I didn’t see any shops around here.”
“I made it.”
“You did not!” On a half laugh he looked at her, then blinked. “You made it?”
“Oh, and well done, Breen.” With her hands behind her back, Morena leaned closer to examine the work. “It’s brilliant.”
Harken swung off the fence to get a look for himself. “It’s all of that. You chose fine stones as well.”
“It’s for protection.” Breen took it, fastened it onto Marco’s wrist. “Mind, body, spirit. I’ll sleep better if you wear it. All the time.”
“I can do that. You mean it’s like magick? You made it with the woo-woo?”
“With the strongest spell I know for it. That doesn’t mean you won’t break your neck if you jump off a cliff, or Morena can’t knock you on your ass. But it’s protection.”
“And styling.” He leaned down to kiss her. “I love it, and you.” He blinked again. “Is that a knife? Is that a knife on your belt?”
“It’s my athame—it’s for rituals. I left it with Nan when I went back to Philadelphia.”
“She made that as well, and the wand,” Morena told him. “Show him, Breen.”
“You got a magic wand? Step off!” His uncertainty about the knife vanished in delight. “Let me see. Do something with it. Where’s a rabbit and a hat when you need one?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Keegan said dryly, “I’ve not all the time in the worlds to stand about while the lot of you admire Breen’s crafting skills.”
“A hard taskmaster is Keegan. Well then, Marco, show off your skills and let’s see you saddle up my big Blue.”
“I’ll see you in a bit,” Breen said as she walked back out of the paddock—and got a supportive squeeze on the shoulder from Harken.
While Morena supervised Marco saddling Blue, Keegan picked up a second sword.
“We’ll start with this, and a single wraith.” He handed her the sword. “And we’ll see how much you’ve lost and forgotten since you took considerable time off your training.”
Marco called out when Breen unsheathed the sword, “You said they won’t cut, right, bro? They’re all enchanted and like that.”
“They won’t cut or slash or puncture living flesh. But…”
Turning, Keegan circled his hands, drawing them up and down, up and down, stirring the air, swirling the earth through it. And conjuring the dark faerie.
Breen studied the familiar face of one of Odran’s followers, one who’d attacked her on her second day in Talamh at her father’s grave.
She kept her focus even when she heard Marco’s alarmed: “Holy shit. What the fucking fuck!”
“It’s a wraith,” Morena soothed. “It’s not real, not the way you think.”
“A training tool,” Keegan said without looking around. “All right then, Breen, let’s see what you’ve managed to bring back from your holiday. Defend!”
The faerie leaped, eyes gleaming, sword raised.
Breen blocked the strike, felt the all-too-familiar clash of steel shoot shock up her arm. She shifted, put her weight on her back foot, pumped a side kick into her opponent’s belly with her front. Then spun, gripping the hilt in both hands, and using the power of the spin, struck.