Charlie’s mind clicked into gear. “What about Nettie?” she asked Kyle. Nettie was a makeup artist who worked for the CIA before going private. Watchdog had used her in the past. “She can disguise the two of you so thoroughly your own mothers wouldn’t recognize you.”
Viv’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Kyle nodded. “She disguised a friend of mine recently for an undercover operation. Made her look completely different. It’ll be easy at a Ren Faire—everyone’s in costume anyway.”
“That’s brilliant,” Maddie said, typing notes. “If she’s willing, I’ll add it to the schedule.”
“All right,” Kyle said. “I’ll get Nettie’s info from Gina to set up the disguises. We’ll treat the Faire like any other public appearance—advance sweep, multiple exit routes, constant communication.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Everyone stood. Viv extended her hand to Charlie again. “Thank you. Really. It probably seems ridiculous to be upset over a few people throwing a temper tantrum, but these threats feel real.”
“Theyarereal,” Charlie said firmly. “But we’ll make sure nothing happens to you while you’re here. And that you have a chance to enjoy yourselves at the Faire.”
Rowan brightened. “Fantastic. There’s someone I want Viv to meet one on one. An old Rennie friend of mine who’s still there.”
“And you still won’t tell me why, will you?” Viv teased.
“I want to keep it a surprise,” Rowan told her.
As they got ready to leave, Rowan turned to Charlie with a grin. “If we’re all going in costume, you should go as Sir Mariel. It’d be perfect. You’ve got the height, the presence. You’d look incredible.”
“Maybe next time,” Charlie said, keeping her tone light. “I’m afraid I don’t have any chainmail hanging in my closet.”
“Considering what a huge fan you are, I’m surprised you don’t,” Rowan said. “She’s gotta be your favorite character, am I right?”
No. That would be Princess Evelaine.Evelaine was beautiful. Graceful. The kind of woman heroes fell in love with and fought for.
Ben’s words came back to her.Warrior Princess…Emphasis on warrior.
I’m proud of my strength, but just once, I wish someone would see me as Princess Evelaine instead of Sir Mariel.
SIX
It wasearly morning but the Renaissance Faire was already alive around Ben. The weather was perfect—not too hot yet, blue skies, and a light breeze that picked up the scent of pine sap, sawdust, and turkey drumsticks roasting over an open fire. Lute music drifted through the trees, along with laughter and the banter of merchants tempting visitors to buy their goods. Ben was right along with them, talking to the crowd as he worked a railroad spike into a knife. Because of the forge, his booth was one of the permanent structures at the faire—open at the front with two half-walls on either side, and the forge at the back. It was along the main path, across from the building housing the costume shop and tended to draw a curious crowd.
Ben wiped his sweaty hands on his leather apron and started in with his practiced stage patter.
“Lords and ladies, lend me thine ears! Come closer, brave souls and wandering knaves,” he called, raising an iron railroad spike like a holy relic. “What you see here is not a magic sword, nor a rare treasure, nor a cursed talisman from the tomb of some forgotten mage of yore.”
He waited half a beat before pointing at a boy at the front of the crowd. “You there, young squire. Can thou tell me what it is?”
“It’s a giant’s nail?” the kid answered. Several people in the crowd chuckled.
“Indeed, indeed.” Ben placed it in the forge to heat up while he talked. “Once upon a time, this giant’s nail was one of many used to build a steel and wooden road for fire-breathing iron dragons. This one comes from the far away, mystical kingdom of…Nebraska.” Ben spotted a man in a University of Nebraska hat and added, “Home of the Knights of the Cornhuskers.”
That earned him a few more laughs.
“There’s one of them now. Sir Big Red, I believe.” He pointed at the guy then mock-bowed as people glanced back smiling and laughing. The guy tipped his hat to Ben.
“Today, this humble spike will undergo a magical transformation right before your eyes.” Ben waited until the spiked glowed orange before picking up his tongs and removing it from the fire.
“Through trial by fire, trial by hammer, and trial by my bad jokes, it will rise through the ranks and become a mighty weapon! One that’s powerful enough to cut through yon turkey legs.”
The crowd laughed good-naturedly.
Except for a woman in the front who called out, “How long is this gonna this take? I wanna catch the jousting tournament in half an hour.”
