“Be quiet!” The sharp edge of her voice silenced the group into a single gasping breath. “You know, I like to ogle beefcake as much as the next girl, but we’re not here so you can pick out your date for the harvest ball. We’re here so I can teach you how to stay alive. You.” She chose one at random, pointed at a pretty brunette who looked sturdy. “Step over here.”

There were a few giggles, and the woman smirked as she strutted up to Glenna.

“What’s your name?”

“Dervil, lady.” Then she squeaked and stumbled back when Glenna’s fist swung up and stopped a bare inch from her face.

“Is that what you’re going to do when someone tries to hurt you, Dervil? Are you going to squeal like a girl, gulp like a fish?” She grabbed Dervil’s arm yanked it up so that it blocked Dervil’s face as Glenna shot her fist out again. Their forearms rammed together.

“That hurt!” Dervil’s mouth fell open in shock. “You have no right to hurt me.”

“Hurting someone isn’t about rights, it’s about intent. And a forearm block hurts less than a bare-fisted punch in the face. They’ll like the look of you, Dervil. Block! No, don’t throw your arm up like it’s a dishrag. Firm, strong. Again!” She worked Dervil backward with each punch. “You’ve got some meat on you, and all that blood swimming in your veins. Squealing and flapping won’t help you. What will you do when they come for you?”

“Run!” someone called out, and though there was some laughter at this, Glenna stopped and nodded.

“Running could be an option. There might be a time it’s the only option, but you’d better be fast. A vampire can move like lightning.”

“We don’t believe in demons.” Dervil thrust up her chin, rubbed her bruised forearm. From the mutinous set of her mouth, the glitter in her eyes, Glenna understood she’d made her first enemy in Geall.

So be it.

“You can bet they believe in you. So run. End of the field and back. Run like the demons of hell are after you. Goddamn it, I said run.” To get them moving, she spurted a little fire at their feet.

There were some screams, but they ran. Like girls, Glenna thought in despair. Waving arms, mincing feet, flapping skirts. And at least three of them tripped, which she considered an embarrassment for all females, everywhere.

Since she calculated she’d lose half of them if she made them run back, she jogged after them.

“Okay, from here. A couple of you actually have some speed, but for the most part, you’re all slow and silly. So we’ll run every day, one length of the field. You’re going to have to wear, what are they? Tewes or leggings. Pants,” she said, patting her own sweats. “Men’s attire for training. Skirts are only going to trip you up, be in the way.”

“A lady—” one of them began, only to freeze when Glenna lasered a stare at her.

“You’re not ladies when I’m training you. You’re soldiers.” A different tack, she decided. “Who here has children?”

Several raised hands, so she chose one she thought was at least watching her with some interest. “You? Your name?”

“Ceara.”

“What would you do, Ceara, if something came after your child?”

“I would fight, of course, I would. I would die fighting to protect my child.”

“Show me. I’m after your baby. What do you do?” When Ceara looked blank, Glenna pushed down her own impatience. “I’ve killed your husband. He’s dead at your feet, now the only thing that stands between me and your child is you. Stop me.”

Ceara lifted her hands, fingers curled into claws, and made a halfhearted lunge at Glenna. And the breath went out of her as she was flipped over Glenna’s shoulder to land on her back.

“How does that stop me?” Glenna demanded. “Your child’s screaming for you. Do something!”

Ceara got into a crouch, sprang up. Glenna let herself be tackled, then simply flipped Ceara over, pressed an elbow to her throat.

“That was better, that was positive. But it was too slow, and your eyes, your body told me just what you were going to do.”

When Glenna stood, Ceara sat up, rubbed the back of her head. “Show me,” she said to Glenna.

By the end of the session, Glenna put her first students in two camps. The Ceara camp consisted of those who showed at least some interest and aptitude. Then there was the Dervil camp, which not only showed neither, but a strong resistance to spending time doing something that wasn’t traditionally a woman’s task.

When they were gone, she simply sat down on the ground. Moments later, Hoyt dropped down beside her, and she had the pleasure, at least, of resting her head on his shoulder.

“I think I’m a poor teacher,” he told her.

“That makes two of us. How are we going to do this, Hoyt? How are we going to pull this together, turn these people into an army?”

“We have no choice but to do it. But gods’s truth, Glenna, I’m tired already and we’ve only begun.”

“It was different when we were in Ireland, the six of us. We knew, we understood what we’d be facing. At least you’re dealing with men, and some of them are already well trained with a sword or a bow. I’ve got a gaggle of girls here, Merlin, and most of them couldn’t fight off a blind, one-legged dwarf much less a vampire.”

“People rise when they have no choice. We did.” He turned his head to kiss her hair. “We have to believe we can do this thing, then we’ll do it.”

“Believing counts,” she agreed. “A lot of them don’t believe what we’re telling them.”

He watched two of the guards carrying iron posts, watched as they began to hammer them into the ground. “They soon will.” He got to his feet, reached for her hand. “We should see if the others are back.”

B lair didn’t know that she’d ever been sent for—unless you counted the occasional summons to the vice principal’s office in high school. She doubted Moira intended to give her detention, but it was weird, being escorted to the princess.

Moira answered the door herself, and the smile she gave Blair was quiet and serious. “Thank you for coming. That will be all, Dervil, thank you. You should go now, secure your place in the stands.”