move Morgan.”
The baby. Hecate’s hells. Marcus looked around for a place to stash his saber-and decided baby slings were missing some key accessories. And it was lightly raining outside, which wouldn’t bother a Fisher’s Cove child in the slightest, but it probably meant you weren’t supposed to lie a baby on the ground.
The saber in his hand itched for freedom. And if Lizzie didn’t hit sword-friendly territory in the next five seconds, she was going to explode or break something.
Time for a change of plans. “To Realm, rabble rouser!”
Lizzie’s eyes got large. “To the castle? Can we fight on the drawbridge?”
As long as Jamie had done a thorough job cleaning up the fire-breathing dragons. “Possibly. I’ll need to find someone to watch over Morgan.” Sadly, the cat wasn’t an adequate babysitter.
His pint-sized fighter’s eyes gleamed with something deeper than mischief. “I’m pretty sure Sean and Kevin could do that job.”
He heard what she didn’t say loud and clear. She’d been relegated to some second-class role one too many times while swords clashed. And as he reached down for the purple-eyed girl lying on the floor, some part of Marcus was suddenly very eager to see that change. “Perhaps you can go ask Aunt Moira if she’d like to come watch Morgan for a bit.” He winked at Lizzie. “Tell her we’ll put a rocking chair out on the ramparts so they can watch.”
An excited sword narrowly missed his nose. “I’m going to feed you to the alligators, ’creant!”
Hopefully Jamie had taken care of those as well. “I fear that you just might, young warrior. So I propose a fight of a different kind.”
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of different?”
Suspicious child. He pulled the sling tight around Morgan’s back and picked up his saber, voice as casual as he could make it. “I was thinking we might challenge Sean and Kevin to a duel.”
For several seconds, all Lizzie could do was stand and stare. And then she turned and ran, feet pelting his front walkway, six-year-old voice paging the twins at the top of her lungs.
Her mind beamed a single, blazing column of fierce, battle-ready joy.
Moira settled into her rocking chair with a view, enjoying the nice breeze on her face and the readying battle below. She reached over to check on the sleepy Morgan, tucked into a replica of Great Gran’s foot cradle. “Rest your eyes a bit, sweet girl, while our Lizzie trounces those boys.”
The outcome of the battle was in little doubt. Lizzie had waited six years for this moment, and she could outthink Sean three times over. Kevin wasn’t quite so easy to outmaneuver, but he had a soft spot for Lizzie that would likely keep his enthusiasm for defeating her in check.
And Lizzie had a secret weapon, although she wasn’t aware of it yet.
Moira watched as the dueling forces staked out their turf. The rules had been decided, the moats cleared of a couple of stray alligators, and a rather sizable audience assembled. And one small healer, on the cusp of her first battle, was bouncing so hard she was going to end up wet before a single blow was meted out.
It was Marcus who did Moira most proud, however. He stood about six feet behind saber-waving Lizzie, dressed in black, glowering, and generally frightening the populace while doing very little. A soldier supporting his general.
A quick whifting sound warned Moira of incoming company. Aervyn grinned, waved, and took off running for the drawbridge, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake.
Nell unfolded a chair and sat down, chuckling. “He was having a bubble bath when the news arrived. I don’t think he did the world’s best job of rinsing himself off.”
Moira watched him wave an imaginary sword through the air. “Looks like he’ll be joining the battle.”
“Nope.” Nell shook her head. “This is Lizzie’s show. He’s going to help Jamie with the new armor spells.”
Now that was interesting. “Tweaked them, has he?” Realm had a series of carefully coded spells that players coated themselves with before battle. They allowed for wild and unruly fighting with little risk of harm, and very accurate scorekeeping.
“He might be talked into letting you beta test.” Nell grinned. “In case a sword fight or two is in those mysterious plans of yours.”
Moira grinned. They just might be-an old witch needed to be crafty to move up the Realm ranks. She turned back to the drawbridge, eye caught by a stir in the crowd. “Oh, good. My little gift has arrived.”
Nell scooted her chair closer to the edge of the ramparts. “What are you up to?”
“Just a wee leveling of the playing field.”
“A legal one?” Her companion chuckled. “Or am I going to have to report you?”
“Entirely legal.” Game rules stipulated very clearly that no magical assistance could be offered to the duelers. Which was full of all kinds of loopholes, if you were clever witch.
Warrior Girl, dressed in full battle regalia, walked toward Lizzie. The drawbridge was silent, all eyes on the solemn-high approach. Ginia stopped, her words amplified by a thoughtful spellcube. “Lizzie Donegal, I bring you three gifts, in the tradition of women warriors everywhere.”
Moira grinned-that part had been her idea.
Lizzie’s eyes were as big as plates.
Ginia pulled the first item out of a resplendent purple velvet sack. “To strengthen your feet, my very first pair of shiny purple boots.”
Nell laughed in quiet surprise, eyes glued to the activity down below. “I haven’t seen those in two years.”
“Aye.” Little feet grew out of even the most treasured footwear. “But when they fit her, she never took them off.” Moira remembered tucking Ginia into bed, shiny boots and all, the birthday eve they’d arrived.
Ten-year-old fingers laced Lizzie’s feet into the boots, their audience waiting patiently. Moments of import couldn’t be rushed.
A moment later, Ginia stood again and pulled out a second bag, much smaller this time. “For courage and strength, an armband hammered with a mighty stone of agate.” She slid a wide silver band, clearly Elorie and Sophie’s work, around Lizzie’s non-sword arm.
Nell chuckled again. “Somebody studied Realm’s rule book very carefully.”
Indeed. They’d checked with Kevin-there was no rule against objects born from magic. “The true power of that armband is the love that made it.”
“Mmm. Pretty soon we’re going to need a lawyer witch around here.” The edges of Nell’s eyes crinkled. “It’s a great idea-I’m glad someone thought of it.”
Ginia reached for one last bag, hanging from her waist. “For wisdom and long life, and generosity in victory, this simple hair clip.”
Lizzie leaned forward, her nose almost in Ginia’s hands. Moira knew what she saw-a small and nondescript bit of metal, tarnished by time and age-old use.
“What on earth is that?” asked Nell quietly.
“Just a wee hair clip.” Ah, an old witch could still confound the best of them. She watched in satisfaction as mystified whispers spread in the waiting crowd.
Ginia pinned it in Lizzie’s hair. “Worn by a woman known only as Aife.”
Moira grinned. Ginia had delivered the line exactly as instructed. Now they’d see who’d really been paying attention in witch history lessons.
It pleased her mightily when Nell was quick to laugh beside her. “Family heirloom, is it? That explains a lot.”
One of her most precious, even if the legend wasn’t true.
Nell leaned over a little further. “Look. Kevin’s eyes just doubled in size. I think you’ve given Lizzie the advantage you intended.”
Kevin whispered in his twin’s ear-and then two sets of eyes stared at Lizzie with significantly more respect.
