It didn’t excuse his behavior, but no one had ever trusted her enough to depend on her before—though she realized with a start that these people were all depending on her, too, now. She was the apprentice and the armory was in trouble. If she didn’t help turn things around, Tavish wouldn’t be the only one that suffered.

Maybe it was above her pay grade, and maybe he hadn’t asked for the help, but he sure as hell needed it. She’d give it to him, not because of Project: New Portia or to impress him, but because for the first time maybe ever she felt she was the perfect person for the job.

A pale girl with frizzy red hair smiled as she bopped a boy in high-water pants and glasses too big for his face on the head with her foam sword. A tan-skinned, dark-haired boy who Tavish had already disciplined twice ran up to the girl and snatched her sword away.

“Syed, stop it!” the girl shouted. She was on the younger end of the class’s age range, and her face was screwing up into a wail when Tavish intervened.

“Syed, I’m not going to tell you again,” he said in a firm but gentle voice that Portia perhaps enjoyed a bit too much. “You have to pay attention, and do what I tell you to do. And you should be nice to your friends. Apologize to Lacey.”

“This is bollocks,” Syed said, dropping the foam swords and staring at Tavish in challenge. “I don’t have to apologize to anyone. And I want a real sword.”

Portia expected Tavish to growl at the boy but instead he simply raised his brows and seemed to mull it over. “I could give you a real sword, I suppose, but why should I when you can’t use a foam one properly?” he asked, scratching his head. The other children tittered. Portia crossed her arms in annoyance; Tavish’s rationale was familiar.

Good to know he treats me the same as a misbehaving eight-year-old.

“Come on, Syed,” Lacey said. “You’re wasting our time. Let’s just have fun, yeah?”

The boy sucked in a breath and his shoulders hunched. Portia wasn’t that familiar with kids, but she’d witnessed enough subway and supermarket meltdowns to divine that this situation was on the verge of spinning out of control.

“Oy! Let me show you all something,” Tavish said suddenly, tapping the boy on the shoulder and then walking toward an area covered with thick rubber mats. His voice was still firm, but a bit more playful, conspiratorial. “Come here, Syed.”

The boy approached slowly, eyes wide and body braced as if he were about to be punished, but Tavish placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, demonstrating to both Syed and the other students that all was well. Syed glanced up anxiously, but relaxed a bit.

“Sometimes in battle, a knight would drop his sword. He’d get into trouble and have to get out of it without the help of his trusty weapon. Now, I’m going to grab you and show you how to get out of those kinds of scrapes. Is that okay with you, Syed? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay,” Syed said, the anger and petulance gone from his voice. “I want to learn!”

Tavish spent the next five minutes grabbing the boy by the arms in ways that made Portia worry he might accidentally hurt him, but by the end Syed could slip out of the holds easily and with confidence. The boy’s eyes were bright and he smiled victoriously, his earlier agitation gone.

“Did everyone see how we did that?” Tav asked. His hand rested on Syed’s head and Syed glanced up at him with adoration in his eyes. “The thing is, you have to think a few steps ahead. You can be afraid, but you can’t let your panic or your anger rule you. You have to be in control, yeah? Let’s all try it now.”

“Lacey, come let me show you,” Syed said, holding his hand out to her. “It’s fun!”

Parents began filtering in to pick up their children, apparently unfazed by the sight of them wrestling with their huge instructor. There were squeals of laughter from the kids as each of them managed to escape, and then Tav packed them off to their parents with a reminder not to use what they’d learned outside the classroom. Portia handed each child a bagged meal as they passed by, smiling at their shy thank-yous and tas.

There was one bag left, and she turned to see Tav kneeling next to Syed, who was talking quietly with his gaze on the floor. Tav clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder and spoke to him for a few minutes, and Syed nodded along before running to Portia, grabbing his meal, and heading for a woman wearing a purple hijab who waited by the door.

“Ya mama, say thank you to the woman, eh?” she said. Definitely his mom.

“Thank you!” Syed called over his shoulder.

The woman waved goodbye as Syed handed her the food and excitedly grabbed at her arms, eager to show her what he’d learned.

“You handled that well,” Portia said to Tavish, beginning to gather up the play swords that had been abandoned on the floor. “I guess you are capable of being nice to others.”

Tav scrubbed a palm over his jaw and grunted. She expected a riposte, but his brows were drawn and he was still staring out the door Syed had just passed through.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She immediately regretted her instinctive question; he’d probably tell her to mind her business. Surprisingly, he met her gaze, his eyes bracketed with worry lines.

“Eh, Syed says some lads have been teasing him and other weans at school. Weans who don’t ‘look’ Scottish. Telling ’em that they’re gonna get sent back to where they came from, and they saw it on telly so it must be true.”