“Sucker bet, but I’m going to take it anyway. What’s life without a gamble?”

“Done. She won’t give up, you see. And Riley, she won’t give up on her. She may not turn her into a brawler, but Sasha will learn to hold her own. And that’s needed for all of this.”

“You could walk away from it.”

“We all could. None of us will, if that’s what you’re wondering. We all got our arses handed to us today, yet here we are.”

With a tug of pride, Bran lifted his chin toward the olive grove. “And there’s the two of them, getting and giving boxing lessons under the olive trees. The gods, I think they don’t understand the mortal’s stubborn resilience. So they underestimate us.”

Doyle hooked his thumbs in his pockets, watched Sasha throw a combination of jabs and crosses into Riley’s hands. “Boxing lesson, such as it is, makes sense. More than a sorcerer with a hoe digging up weeds. You could . . .” He wiggled his fingers. “And get rid of them.”

“The physical helps the brain, and I’ve been taught not to use magick to be lazy. Still.” As a kind of test, Bran held his hands out, spread them. After no more than a quiet shimmer, not a single weed remained.

“Quicker that way,” Doyle commented.

“It is. You don’t have much of a reaction to the magickal.”

“Dated a witch.”

Intrigued, Bran lifted his scarred eyebrow, leaned companionably on the fence. “Did you now?”

“Redhead, built in a way made you sure God’s a man.”

“It didn’t work out between you?”

“For a while it did. She wasn’t shy about using what she had. She wasn’t shy about anything,” Doyle added with a grin.

“She couldn’t help you with this venture?”

“Not for lack of trying. But she told me there would be five others, each with a separate power. Once united, we might forge the sword that would pierce the heart of a vengeful god. Then again, she also told me love would pierce my heart with fang and claw and lead me to the path of death.”

He let out a half laugh. “She had a way, that redhead. So . . . you got dibs on the blonde?”

“No.” It seemed childish, and he— Bloody hell. “Yes.”

“Just getting with the program. Hey, that was a decent combination.” Frowning, Doyle watched Sasha repeat it. “Decent,” he repeated. “Fuck me, I’m going to owe you twenty. I can already see it.”

* * *

As it struck him as foolish to put the weeds back, then hoe and yank at them again, Bran harvested the herbs he wanted, then walked up the hillside, through another olive grove for the roots and plants he found useful.

He’d continue to work in his room, he decided, as he didn’t see the point in pushing what he did and was in everyone’s face. Clearly they’d need more salve if their first encounter with Nerezza was any indication.