to knock him on his ass for a change.”
“Best not tamper with that. Would you like me to come with you?”
“It’s humiliating enough without an audience, thanks.” She bent over, kissed Marg’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“You have the tea for restful sleep.”
“Yeah.”
“Drink some before bed, and what do you place under your pillow?”
“Rosemary and amethyst or black tourmaline.”
“You learn well.”
She wished she could learn to fight nearly as well, Breen thought as she started her walk to the farm. Actually, she didn’t, and that was probably at least part of the problem.
She could easily go the rest of her life without wanting to punch somebody, much less whack at them with a sword.
Except . . .
She thought of the boy, struggling, screaming.
Wouldn’t she have tried to protect him, by whatever means?
She looked over the fields as Bollocks raced up the road, then back again. Everything so green, so lush, so peaceful, with the blue water of the bay curving in.
It actually hurt, physically hurt, she realized, to know such evil existed when the world offered such simple beauty.
The poor boy. Had he come from this world, hers, another? Impossible to know. But she knew he’d been terrified and still he’d tried to fight. Right up until the end, he’d tried.
She could hardly do less.
She saw the hawk before she saw Morena. Amish glided down to land on one of the stone pillars flanking the farm gate. Bollocks—growing so fast!—raced up to plant his forepaws on the pillar and bark.
“He’s far too dignified to play with you,” Morena called out. Her hair, free of her usual braid, waved sunnily to the small of her back.
She beat Breen to the gate, crouched down to rub the dog, who plopped down to show his belly. “But I’m not.” Amusing them both, she gave Bollocks a quick wrestle before looking up at Breen. “Ready to take on Keegan, are you then?”
“I’m never ready for it.”
“Ah now, Harken tells me you’re improving.”
“How would he know?”
“Sure and he’s watched a time or two, from a discreet distance.”
“God. Mortifying.” But she opened the gate.
“I’ll see for myself.”
“No, it’s bad enough. He knocks me down regularly, and adds insult to injury. Apparently, I’ve got feet buried in a bog, the balance of a one-legged drunk, and the hands of a three-fingered tinker.”
“All the more reason you need someone cheering you on.” Morena tossed an arm around Breen’s shoulders. She smelled of the garden—sweet, spicy, earthy all at once.
“I’ll wager you’re better than you think.”
“You’d lose that bet. Oh, Christ, he’s got the damn swords out. My arm was like rubber after yesterday.”
“Rubber’s the thing that bounces, isn’t it? You’ll bounce then. And there’s himself, looking all fierce and steely eyed.”
Keegan turned his head, grinned at her. “And here’s herself, come to torture my brother again.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind it.” She hefted a sword with a style Breen envied. “You’ve bespelled them.”
“I have, of course. I don’t want to hack something off her, do I?”
Morena ran the blade over her palm, nodded. “But you don’t mind her feeling the sting.”
“Feel nothing, learn nothing. Harken’s in the stables. One of the horses is off her feed.”
“I’ll look in on him later.” She handed back the sword. “I mean to watch for a bit.”
“See you keep clear.”
He turned to Breen, tossed her the sword. It hit the ground as she jumped back.
And Keegan cast his eyes to the sky. “And this is what the gods give me to work with. Pick up the sword. I trust you remember which end is which.”
“You stick them with the pointy end.”
He actually smiled. “I read that story. Arya was but a child and learned fast and well. You’re a woman grown. Come now, stick me with the pointy end.”
She tried. He blocked without moving his body an inch, and she felt the sting in her belly as he stabbed her.
“Try again.”
This time the sting in her shoulder told her she’d have lost an arm.
“Balance your weight,” Morena called out from her perch on the paddock fence.
Keegan’s duster hung over the rail beside her.
“Quiet, you.” He pointed the sword at Morena, then turned back to Breen. “Again.”
“Feck it all, Keegan, she’s just beginning. Ease up a bit.”
“Just beginning and dead twice over. Again.”
So it went. Mortal wound after mortal wound until her whole body felt the stings.
“Bloody bully! Put your shoulder into it, Breen. Block the bastard.”
She tried. Sweat dripped into her eyes, ran down her aching back, but she tried. She