“This is mad! Some guy jumped out from behind Cheryl’s stand and snapped a photo as I hugged Greer goodbye.” He dropped into the chair beside Portia.

Johan sighed. “Ah, so tomorrow I’ll have to share the front page of the paper with you. I suppose I should be offended, but you’re better than the reality show star who’s trying to crowdfund their own country.”

Tavish snorted.

“Is everything okay with your social media accounts? Do you need help with anything?” he asked, surprising her. He usually didn’t care about internet shite, as he called it.

“Yeah, I’m just a little freaked out. I have to change my passwords. I can change you—”

Johan loudly cleared his throat and stood up, and Portia caught herself. Tav could handle changing his own passwords.

“I must be going. Will you be free tomorrow at the same time?” he asked Tav.

Portia felt Tav’s gaze land on her, but she kept her eyes glued to her phone.

“Aye,” he responded when she made no move to answer.

“Excellent.”

Tav made another trip to the front door, and Portia flopped back in her chair.

She’d expected Johan to be frivolous, but he’d walked in, spotted her biggest worry, and turned a floodlight on it. She couldn’t keep this up—she couldn’t downplay it as a crush or something that would go away. She’d fallen for her boss, and her work had taken over her life, and everything was a mess. She’d come to Scotland to escape herself, but she was falling right into the same cycle that had gotten her into trouble with Ledi and her family.

She didn’t wait for Tav to come back to the parlor; she went up to her room with her phone in hand and scrolled down to a number she didn’t think she’d need while on the trip.

The phone rang and was answered by a human instead of going to voice mail.

“Hello, Dr. Lewis speaking.”

“Hi. It’s Portia Hobbs. You said if I ever needed to talk . . . well, um, I’ve been having some boundary issues again. And some family issues. And relationship stuff and just . . . Do you have any appointments available?”

Chapter 23

This Johan guy is a piece of work.

It was their third meeting in three days—meetings alone, because Portia had made herself scarce. Last he’d seen, she and Cheryl had been squealing over some nail polish that had been sent to the armory for promotion, which had seemed strange to him, but Portia explained it meant he now had “internet capital.” She hadn’t explained more than that though, as she hadn’t spoken to him about much since they’d returned from the Bodotria Trail. She’d been strictly business since he’d come back to an empty parlor after walking Johan to the door.

At first, he’d thought something had happened when he’d left her and Johan alone—the guy was closer in age, after all, and charming and fit. He’d wondered if he was officially out of her system, which should have been the best-case scenario for both of them but the possibility alone made him feel like utter shite.

She’d finally sat him down and talked to him that morning.

“We need some boundaries,” she’d said, cutting to the chase unlike the last time she’d held an impromptu meeting. “Right now, we’re too enmeshed in each other’s lives, or rather I’m too enmeshed in yours, since you don’t know very much about my life at all, actually.”

Tav had wanted to argue otherwise—he knew about her parents and her sister, the pressures her family exerted on her and the even greater weight she placed on herself. He knew a lot about Portia, but in the end it wasn’t the same as the way his entire life and family history had consumed her time. He’d been worried for weeks but hadn’t pinpointed the reason why: Portia had given him much more than he had given her, though he was supposed to be her instructor.

She’d continued, looking ill at ease. “I came here to find myself but I feel like I’m losing myself instead. So, factory reset time. Our only official relationship is swordmaker and apprentice, and maybe knight and squire if we’re feeling frisky, and we’re going to have to stick to that. I’m leaving soon, after all.”

Tav had been hurt by the matter-of-factness in her tone, and surprised by his hurt. But he hadn’t said more than “Aye. Whatever’s best for you, lass.” What else could he say? The apprenticeship was over soon, and it had been a failure. She’d made one sword and gotten nothing but headaches and piles of work that had nothing to do with the armory.

A crumpled crisps wrapper bounced off of Tavish’s forehead and onto his lap. He rerouted his train of thought back into the parlor, where Johan sat across from him with his brows raised.

“Oh, did that manage to get your attention?” Johan was rightfully annoyed, though it was a quite refined annoyance.

Tav was having trouble following along because, well, nice as he was, Johan was no Portia. Tav hadn’t realized how easy she’d made all those lessons for him. Johan had zero interest in humoring him.

Tav grabbed the crisp bag and lightly tossed it onto the table. “Sorry, mate, I drifted off. What were you saying I should know about the Queen?”

“That she enjoys challenging people to impromptu arm wrestling matches and can beat most of the peerage fair and square. Don’t underestimate her—she has a pull-up bar installed behind her throne.”