“I feel cocky, and I’m going to take you down again.”

He shoved to his feet, muttered, “Nid wyf yn credu hynny.”

Grinning, she took a two-handed grip again. “I yn gwybod.”

Mallick shoved his hair back, started to set. Then simply stopped and stared. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m taking you down, again.”

“No, after that.”

“You said you didn’t think so—all grumpy. And I just said I know. Like, I know I will. I’m ready.”

“I spoke in Welsh.”

“What?”

With his sword at his side he stepped toward her. “Ydych chi’n deall?”

She stared a moment, let out a breath. “Dwi’n gwneu.” I do. “How?” she demanded. “I understand the words, but I don’t understand how I understand.”

“An dtuigeann tú?”

“Tá. Same question, same answer, but that was Irish. How do I know that’s Irish?”

“Come ti chiami?”

“I don’t understand that, or what it is.”

“I asked your name in Italian. That will come.”

“What will come? This is crazy.” Panic punched through her. How could she know what she didn’t know? “I haven’t studied those languages, the Welsh or the Irish. How’s Irish a language anyway? How do I know it is? And now I know when you mumble damnar air, you’re saying ‘shit’ in Irish. I figured you were swearing in Welsh because you said you were born in Wales.”

“And I will now have to be more guarded with my cursing.”

“That’s not the stupid point. I don’t understand how I know. Wait, wait.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pressed a hand to the side of her head. “Scots Gaelic, that’s in there, too.”

“They have a root,” Mallick told her. “The root has sprouted in you.”

“How? How do I know what I don’t—didn’t know?”

He planted his sword, leaned on it, a man who’d waited a millennium for moments such as this.

“You are The One, Fallon Swift. It is inside you. The knowledge, the answers, even your ability to knock down your teacher. Do you think all you’ll meet, all friends, all foes, will speak only English? Those you lead, those you fight, those you protect? You must understand them, and they you. Language is only thoughts put into words, after all.”

He rarely touched her, but now put a hand on her shoulder. “This is another victory for you. I hadn’t expected it to come this quickly. That’s to your credit, not mine.”

They swarmed in her head, so many words, like bees building a hive. “I can’t think. It’s all banging in my head.”

“Quiet your mind. Knowledge is a blessing, and a power, and a weapon. For now, while the roots sprout, take the blessing. You can now curse me in several languages.”

That made her smile a little, and the smile pushed back the leading edge of panic.

“Sometimes I feel I’ll be ready. I’ll know what to do, how to do it. And other times … I just want to go home.”

So much, Mallick thought, for one young girl on a bright afternoon. He’d sworn to train and protect, but what were those without some tending?

“Do you hear the bees buzzing? Do you see the garden we planted flourishing? You can smell the earth, the growing things. Do you feel the air around you, warm from the sun? Listen, feel, look. Deeper.”

With his hand still on her shoulder, he waved the other in the air. And they stood on the rise where her mother had stood so many years before, looking down at the farm.

Her mother, taking in the wash. Sheets that rippled in the breeze. Ethan throwing a red ball for all the dogs to chase at once. His laugh bright on the air. Travis trying to walk on his hands while Colin taunted him. The exchange of jeers so normal, so real.

And her father striding up behind her mother to grab her, spin her, kiss her. The love, as true as anything she knew, struck her heart.

The bees buzzed, the garden flourished with the scent of earth and growing things. The sun warmed the air.

“The time will pass,” Mallick told her. “You won’t come back as you left, but you will come back.”

Her father’s shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. Ethan’s big, happy laugh as the dogs leaped for the red ball. Sheets billowing at her mother’s back. Travis’s face pink with effort as he walked on his hands while Colin danced in circles around him.

God, God, a part of her, the deepest chamber of her heart, wanted to run, just run toward them. But the rest, what she knew in the blood, stopped her.

“How will I come back?”

“Stronger.”

“Can I come like this again? Just to see them for a minute?”

“When you learn how.”

“Then I’ll learn how.”

Now her brothers wrestled, and so did the dogs. Her mother carried the wash inside, and her father picked up the red ball, threw it so boys and dogs gave chase.

And Fallon stood back in the clearing, hearing the bees, smelling the garden, feeling the sun.

“Thank you.”

“Victories should be rewarded.” He stepped back from her.

“Okay. Pick up your sword, because I want another.”

On the longest day, when the sun stood at its peak, Fallon cast the circle. With her sword, within the circle, she drew a pentagram, and at each of its points placed a candle. Brought them to flame.

She’d placed sunflowers and bounty from the garden, herbs fresh cut, water drawn cool and clear from the stream.

She called to the god of fire, gave thanks for his light. She thanked the goddess for the fertility she granted the earth.

Mallick watched her perform the ritual and thought of Samhain, when he’d seen her power rise.

He saw it now as she lifted her sword, as her hair, shorn short, fluttered in the air she stirred.

“His sword will flame. He is blood of my blood. My sword takes fire from the gods. I am bone of their bone. My light, his light, their light, our light will strike the dark. My life, his life, their lives, our lives join for this purpose. The sun will rise and set, rise and set. The earth will bloom and rest, bloom and rest. Magicks awakened will not sleep again. The time for sleep is past, and here I make my pledge.

“On this day, at this hour, beneath the sun, among the flowers, I am your servant, I am your child. I will face what comes to me be it tame or be it wild. You who forged my destiny light the flame inside of me, and against the dark I vow to blaze though it takes ten thousand days. I give what you ask of me. As you will, so mote it be.”

She lowered the sword, stood quiet. She didn’t pale as she had before. Already, Mallick thought, showing the soldier she would become.

“I can’t go back now.” She spoke quietly, and not at all like a child. “I’ve come too far, I have too much in me to go back now.”

“So you made your pledge.”

“I’d planned to do the ritual my mother does for Midsummer. It’s really pretty. Spiritual, I guess, but it’s just pretty. But then … I made a choice. J’ai fait un choix.”

His brows lifted. “French.”

“Parlo italiano anche. I didn’t before I started the ritual. I don’t think. It’s not banging this time, but it’s a lot.”

“Yes, it is. You need to close the circle. And you’ll have the rest of the day free.”

She wanted that, but … “It’s a lot, but there’s more than a lot left to learn. I need more practice. I need more.”

“Then we’ll work. Tonight you’ll go to the balefire. Celebration gives balance to work and study.”

“I want to go. You should come, too. You should,” she pressed, sensing his excuses. “Celebration provides balance.”

“Very wise.”

She smiled. “I heard it somewhere.”

That night after the sun set on the longest day, she danced around the balefire with elves and faeries and a pack of shifters. And the weight of work and learning and tomorrows fell away. For a night, one night, she could be just a girl at a party.