The dinner crowd clapped enthusiastically as the jester bowed. I clapped along with them, a stupid grin on my face. I could see Greg roll his eyes.

“No need to look so pleased,” he grumbled, “the oaf did a woeful job.”

“Buzzkill,” I coughed underneath my breath. The jester, who had stepped off of the stage, was promptly swarmed by a bunch of kids. They crowded around him, tugging at his sleeves as he finally gave in and showed them a few more tricks. A few minutes later, when he broke away from them, he glanced up and winked at me from across the room. I made a weird face in return. It was good to see Allan here tonight. I hadn’t seen him at all since the hectic morning three days ago.

After loading up a plate of food, he headed toward my table. “Hey stranger,” he said as he took a seat. “How’s it going?”

I lifted my head to look at him. “Hey stranger yourself,” I said. “Where have you been these past few days?”

Resting his elbows against the table, Allan heaved a sigh. “My mom’s making me work like crazy for stealing her car,” he grumbled. “I must have been shot with those foam arrows a hundred times today.”

I laughed. “Well, I’m glad to see that none of them were fatal.”

He laughed too as he took a bite of food. “How’s the cleaning going?” he asked after he swallowed.

“Some old, same old,” I said with a shrug. “You’d be shocked at the number of socks I’ve found, and yesterday I cleaned a room where someone turned the dresser upside-down for a prank. I thought that was super nice of them.” I sat up a little bit straighter. “That, and I think I met a time-traveler.”

Allan gave me a teasing smile. “A time-traveler? What makes you think that?”

“Because,” I said, “when I knocked on the door of the room to see if anyone was inside, this weird looking guy answered it and stared at me super confused. Then he asked me what year it was, so I told him, and he looked even more confused as he shut the door in my face.”

Allan nodded, a sarcastically solemn expression on his face. “This castle has proved to be quite the puzzle to many time-travelers.”

“The man was clearly inebriated,” Greg interjected. “Lady Jessica seems to tell every detail but that.”

“Lady Jessica?”

“Yes,” I said with a grin, “I’m a lady. And that guy was not drunk Greg, I’d bet you a hundred bucks.” Greg chuckled and shook his head. I turned back to Allan. “Besides that though, not much has happened.”

He nodded. “Sounds like I’ve missed out on quite the eventful couple of days.”

I leaned forward. “There actually was something I wanted to ask you about. I keep seeing all these flyers everywhere about a renaissance fair thing that’s coming up in a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah,” Allan replied as he took another bite of food, “it’s the castle’s main event each year. An insane amount of people show up.”

I grinned. “Well, I saw the flyer say something about a sword fighting competition. Is that just a professional thing, or are amateurs allowed?”

Allan gave me a shrewd look. “There are professional swordfighters that put on a show, but the competition is for amateurs.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you thinking about letting Greg possess you again?”

I glanced up at Greg and the ghost nodded. “We’d talked on it briefly,” he said.

Impossibly, Allan’s gaze grew even more disapproving. “Jessica,” he said, “that’s cheating. Greg is not on an amateur level. It’s not fair to the other contestants!”

“First of all,” I said, resting my elbows against the tabletop, “cheating is a strong word. This is more like utilizing my resources.” I could tell that Allan wasn’t buying it. “Second of all,” I continued, “you don’t know that Greg’s not an amateur! I mean, the guy died in a swordfight, so he’s not that good.” Now it was Greg who was giving me a dirty look. “And third of all, I intend to do my share of work. I learned last time that possession-fighting isn’t easy, so I know I have to practice. Only thing is, I need someone to practice with.” I looked up at Allan hopefully.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh come on,” he said, “you can’t be serious.” I stuck out my bottom lip and tried to make my eyes wider, but he just shook his head. “I’m not going to help you practice getting used to possession Jessi! That’s just—that’s just—” he looked at a loss for words. “Weird,” he said at last.

“Okay,” I agreed, “but look at it this way. I’m going to do it whether you help or not, so you might as well be there in case something goes wrong.”

Allan gave me a flat look. “You have such a way with words,” he muttered. His frown deepened as he stared at me. I could see it in his eyes, he was about to give in, any second now.

“Gosh, okay,” he said, “I’ll help you practice.

“Yay!” I cried, “Thank you so much!” My smile vanished. “Wait—I’ve kind of been assuming this, but you do know how to swordfight, don’t you?”

Allan’s expression grew haughty. “Pah-leeze!” he said, “You insult me Jessica. I grew up here. I was raised on the arts of sword-fighting, archery, and horseback riding. I’m basically a medieval knight.”

Greg started to laugh so hard that it turned into a cough.

I couldn’t hold back a smile either. “So that’s why you teach little kids? Because you’re a knight and that’s what knight’s do?”

“Absolutely,” Allan said, maintaining his exaggerated confidence.

“And getting up on stage,” I continued, “where you get doused with water and have eggs thrown at you, that’s all part of being a knight as well?”

Allan nodded, his face growing solemn. “People don’t realize what being a knight entails. It’s exhausting work.”

“I believe it,” I said with a laugh. “So when can we start practicing?”

“Not tonight,” he replied, leaning forward, “I’m way too tired, but tomorrow should work. I don’t have a show then.”

“Sounds good,” I replied. I rested my chin in my hand. “I would feel bad fighting a jester anyways. Sure, you can insist that you’re a knight, but in that outfit you seem just a little bit helpless.”

Allan shook his head vehemently, causing the bells on his hat to jingle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, shaking his head once more. “This is super intimidating!”

I clutched my stomach as I laughed. A couple of the guests eating dinner were starting to give us weird looks, but I didn’t care.

“Watching the two of you is truly unbearable,” muttered Greg. “It’s like the village idiots grow more numerous by the second.” When I looked up, Greg had vanished.

“Oh no,” muttered Allan, his voice sounding heartbroken as he finally stopped shaking his head. The bells quieted. “We scared away the old grumpy ghost.”

“Greg the grumpy ghost,” I said with a smile. “I’ll have to start calling him that. Greg the grumpy ghost! Oh, he’ll hate it!”

Allan grinned. “I bet he will.” Rising to his feet, he picked up his empty plate and bowed. “Well then, until tomorrow night, milady.”

I stood up as well and curtsied. “Tomorrow night.”

***

The next day, I met up with Allan inside the great hall after dinner. He was wearing his Robin Hood-esque ensemble, with the dark brown trousers, billowy shirt, and form fitting vest. My heart melted a little. He looked really good. Still as skinny as a rail, of course—but good.

“You didn’t chicken out on me,” I said as I approached him.

“Me?” he scoffed, “Chicken out? Never! I’m ready to fight, goth girl.”

“Good,” I retorted, “cuz I’m gonna kick your butt—” My mind scrambled to come up with a catchy name. “Pale person,” I said at last.

He laughed. “Goth Girl, Pale Person, and their trusty sidekick, Greg the Grumpy Ghost!” He made his voice sound deep and dramatic. “Fighting crime one alliteration at a time!”

I stared at him for a moment in silence. “You are such a nerd,” I said at last.

Greg appeared between us before Allan could respond. “I am not familiar with this term ‘sidekick’,” he said, “but I am quite certain I do not want to be one.”

“Oh please,” I said. “Obviously I’m the hero. Both of you are my sidekicks.”

Allan’s eyes were wide as he laughed. “Those are some fighting words!” he said. “How about we take this outside?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, gesturing forward. “Lead the way, Pale Person.”

Turning on his heel, Allan headed out of the great hall and I followed close behind. We went through a couple of passageways until we were in a back corner of the castle that I wasn’t familiar with. He came to a stop before a door that had a little sign that read Armory. Pulling out a ring of keys, he unlocked the door. I glanced at him as we passed inside.

“Are you abusing your ‘son of the owner’ powers?” I asked.

He gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Of course,” he said, “I do it all the time.” Reaching up, he turned on the light.

My jaw dropped. This place was magnificent. “I’m not gonna lie Allan,” I whispered, “I’m kinda mad that you haven’t brought me along to abuse your powers more often.”

There were shelves and stands, lined with an assortment of every medieval weapon imaginable. There were some incredibly beautiful replicas, and a few that looked like legit weapons.

“You know,” said Allan, “taking my mom’s car to go ghost hunting in the middle of the night is most definitely abusing my ‘son of the owner’ powers. You haven’t missed out on much.”

“True, true,” I muttered as I stepped forward. I gravitated toward a rack full of swords and I couldn’t help but reach out and touch one.

“Watch yourself,” said Greg with a teasing laugh, “you might break it.”

“Ha ha,” I shot back.

Moving to stand beside me, Allan reached out and lifted one of the dull swords off the rack. He held it out in front of him, as if testing its weight, and then he glanced down the blade. I was starting to get a little nervous. He actually looked like he knew what he was doing. I glanced up at Greg.

“Which one should we choose?” I asked.

Greg looked thoughtful for a moment before pointing to a slightly shorter one. “I can’t lift it to tell, but that one shouldn’t be too heavy for you.”

“Alright,” I said as I reached out and grabbed it. “I guess I’m ready.”

Allan picked up a couple of padded vests for us as we headed to the back of the armory where there was a door. He held it open for me as I stepped outside. The sun was low in the sky, but there was still enough light for us to get some practice in.

We walked across the field and headed for the sword fighting arena. When I looked around, I noticed that we were the only people out here. The outdoor activities got closed down after dinnertime. A grin spread across my face. It would just be me and Allan out here, having a romantic swordfight at sunset. And Greg. My smiled faded.

When we reached the arena, we both stopped to put the padded armor on. Taking a deep breath, I glanced up at Greg. “Let’s defeat this pale Englishman,” I said gravely.

He nodded. “It will be a pleasure.”

Allan gave us both a flat look. “You realize I’m like, mostly Irish, right?”

“That’s exactly the kind of lie an Englishman would tell,” I muttered as Greg stepped toward me and disappeared. I shivered involuntarily.

“It’s not,” Allan said, “it’s really not.”

I shrugged as I picked up my sword and faced Allan. He picked up his sword as well and held it at the ready. He was smiling. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind.

“Okay Greg,” I thought, “I’m letting go of the controls. You got this?”

I could hear him chuckle in my mind. “Oh,” he murmured, “I’ve got this.”

The icy feeling filled me completely and I felt as my body crouched down into a defensive stance. Allan did the same. I was surprised at how easy I found it this time, letting Greg move me around. I guess I had learned to trust him a lot more over the past few weeks.

I looked back up at Allan. “Are you ready?” I asked.

A sheepish grin crossed his face. “Nope,” he said, “not even a little bit.”

I stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“Confession time,” he said, “I’m actually terrible at this.”

I almost dropped my sword in frustration. “What are you talking about? Yesterday you were going on about how you’re basically a knight. You were raised here! How do you not know how to swordfight?”

He raised his free hand defensively. “I didn’t say I couldn’t swordfight, I just said I’m terrible at it. There’s a reason I teach kids archery and not this.”

I could feel Greg’s irritation as well as my own. “So why did you agree to help me if you’re no good?”

His grin broadened. “Actually,” he clarified, “it was you who asked me to help first, without knowing if I could swordfight or not.” A laugh escaped his mouth. “And come on Jessi, are you really going to try and explain to someone else that you’d like help getting used to possession so you can win a competition?”

The frown on my face deepened. He had a good point. “Well Allan,” I said as I raised my sword, “this is going to be really sad for you, because Greg and I are really good.”

Allan hesitantly raised his sword as well. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

Gritting my teeth, I crouched down and began to circle him. He matched my movements and a moment later, he lunged forward. I could feel as Greg moved my arms to block Allan’s blow. My heart started to beat a little bit faster. Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as I thought. I’d forgotten how creepy it was to feel myself moving without knowing what the intention was behind it. My body lurched forward as Greg took a swing at Allan, but Allan managed to block the blow.

“Whoa,” he said a stunned smile, “did you just see that? Either I’m better than I thought I was, or you two are actually terrible! Come on, I was expecting a challenge! But I guess that’s what I get for having tall expectations from a couple of shorties.”

I glared at him. “That’s pretty brave,” I countered, “coming from a guy who wears multicolored tights.”

Allan didn’t say anything in response, but I was glad to see that his smug grin had faded.

“What an insolent, skinny, long-legged, half-witted—” Greg’s stream of insults continued. “We’ll introduce his face to the ground, Lady Jess.”

I rolled my eyes. “And that’s pretty brave coming from a guy in a dress.”

“You do desire my help,” Greg’s surly voice responded, “do you not? For I could make you trip and fall on top of your sword if I wished.”

“Point taken,” I thought. “I’ll try to tone down the sarcasm.”

Without warning, Greg threw my body into movement again and I thrust the sword at Allan’s chest. He seemed to be caught off-guard and he stumbled back a few paces as I hit his padded vest with the tip of my sword.

He looked down, then glanced back up at me with a quick smile. “I knew my luck wouldn’t last,” he said. Knocking my blade out of the way, he strode forward and swung his sword. I blocked the blow just in time.

We fell into a rhythm then, a series of clumsy blows and parries. Allan hadn’t been kidding when he said he was terrible. I accidently hit him a couple of times with the blunt sword and I apologized to him profusely for it. However, I could tell by Greg’s laughter in my head that he wasn’t sorry at all.

As the time slipped by, I really did grow more accustomed to Greg haunting me. The chill no longer bothered me and even though sometimes it was a bit nerve-wracking, I’d begun to be able to anticipate his movements.

Allan too, seemed to improve as we fought. It was weird for me to see him out here, acting serious with his face set in concentration. I was so used to seeing him as a goofy jester that seeing him like this was throwing me off. He was crazy attractive right now.

I was getting increasingly distracted by him while we fought. If I had my way, we’d toss away the swords, run into each other’s arms, and kiss as the fiery sunset blazed behind us and a flock of doves flew overhead.

“For the sake of all that is holy,” Greg cried out, “could you please keep your thoughts to yourself?”

My eyes widened. I’d forgotten that Greg was in my head.

“Shameless,” he muttered.