by Jayne Faith
Emmaline came up and nodded at my hand, which was clutching the scabbard strap. She already had Mort slung across her chest.
“The sword?” she said.
“Oh, right.” I reluctantly passed the scabbard to her. As my squire, she was supposed to carry all my knightly shit around.
“First, we’ll go to the mineral room,” she said. “You have priority access to it from now until the battle of the champions.”
In a daze, I nodded, and Emmaline, Jaquard, Oliver, and a few officials herded me to the training area. From then on, it was a blur of mineral treatments, sparring, resting, and eating. My schedule was managed entirely by others, leaving me free to focus on getting ready for the fight.
Every sparring session left me exhausted, but my fatigue was swept away by the most intensive, expensive restorative treatments available. It was a strange condensed period of training, but the pure, single-minded focus of it was its own sort of ecstasy.
And wielding Aurora . . . it was better than any high I could imagine. I had a couple brief twinges of guilt when I caught sight of Mort with Emmaline on the sidelines of the training yard, as if I were cheating on my broadsword. But I knew Mort and I would reunite. Aurora was mine only for a few days—a short, passionate, wholly absorbing affair—and I let myself get swept up in the glow of it.
When the Summer Court’s blade cut through the air, it felt much lighter than it appeared, almost as if it wasn’t made of solid metal at all. By some magic I didn’t understand, it seemed to condense its mass on impact. Light and swift as it moved, but bone-jarringly weighty when it hit. It was the most perfect weapon I’d ever touched.
“Your opponent will have a sword just as swift and powerful,” Oliver said from a few feet away.
I was sparring with Jaquard, and I’d forced him back to the edge of the training field. His face dripped with sweat. Oliver kept even with us as we fought, calling out corrections to me. He’d been coordinating and overseeing my workouts for the past two and a half days.
“Get used to the weapon, but don’t get overconfident,” he warned.
Jaquard parried and lunged at me with movements that were so practiced they seemed more like reflexes. I sidestepped a jab and whipped Aurora up to impact Jaquard’s side just below his ribs. The blade bit into his stone armor, and he winced.
We paused and Oliver came forward. The three of us watched in silence as Jaquard lifted his shirt to reveal a crack in his armor. Blood began to seep through it.
“Damn, sorry about that,” I said. It wasn’t the first wound Aurora had inflicted on my training opponents.
“No apologies,” the expert swordsman said. “You need to see how the champion blades affect stone armor.” He pointed at the crack. “This will be you if Twilight strikes you edge-on.”
I nodded, flexing my jaw muscles and rolling my shoulders to try to relax my arms and neck. We’d discovered that Aurora could crack rock armor, but only with a very precise hit with the edge of the blade. The flat of the blade or even a slightly angled slice didn’t seem to cause serious harm.
Oliver turned to me. “Your opponent may not know about this, but we can’t assume it for sure. The Duergar have people with stone armor. If the wielder of Twilight happens to practice against one, they’ll likely discover this weakness.”
A New Gargoyle had never fought a battle of champions, as the last fight had taken place before the Cataclysm and the emergence of our kind.
“Get that treated, Jaquard,” Oliver said. He lifted a finger at me. “And you go to the mineral sauna, and then go home for rest and food.”
I released my own armor, and in its absence the familiar ache spread over my skin. Fatigue began to set in at once. I’d been working out with fully activated armor for extended periods, and it was incredibly draining. If not for the rejuvenating treatments in the mineral sauna and salt baths, I’d have been comatose.
Emmaline jumped up and trotted over to take Aurora. She accompanied me to the mineral room.
“Tired?” she asked.
I nodded, circling my dominant arm. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, though.”
I hadn’t been in the mood for much conversation since I’d been knighted, but she got it, for which I was grateful.
When I emerged from the mineral sauna with steam clinging to my skin, Emmaline was waiting with a towel for wiping off my face and hands.
“Food’s waiting, and I ordered more salts for your bath,” she said with business-like efficiency.
As we passed through the corridors, eyes lingered on me. Everyone knew that I’d been knighted and would be fighting the Duergar champion.
“How’d I look out there?” I asked Emmaline, mostly as an excuse to ignore the curious looks.
“Amazing,” she said, her voice edged with awe. “I can’t even describe what it’s like to watch Aurora in action.”
“Ah, so it’s not me, but the sword?” I teased.
“Well, it’s both,” she said. “I can’t imagine two such weapons clashing. It will be like watching the gods themselves. You’re going to slaughter the Duergar champion, of course,” she quickly added.
At her mention of the gods, I went quiet, remembering how Jasper had sworn that the Tuatha de Danann had returned. In the whirlwind of the past few days, there hadn’t been an opportunity to think much about his wild claims.
When I returned to my quarters, I found Nicole in the kitchenette. It was the first time I’d seen her in days. The Stone Order was supposed to find her an apartment of her own, but at the news of my impending battle, every New Gargoyle had flocked back to the fortress in support, and there was a bit of a housing shuffle underway.
I realized I’d hardly spoken to her since breaking her out of the Duergar kingdom.
“Hi,” she said. She curiously scanned the welts on my exposed arms. “Did you get hurt?”
I shook my head. “Nah, this is just what happens after long use of stone armor.”
She plopped a tea bag in the mug of steaming water she’d just pulled out of the microwave.
“They’re trying to get me to summon stone armor,” she said. “If I can’t, the Duergar king might be able to take me again.”
Her eyes were sunken with dark smudges under them. Her glance flicked to my squire, and she watched Emmaline set down my gym bag and then leave quietly with the swords.
I peeled off my sweatshirt, still damp from the mineral sauna. “Still feel like you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole?” I asked.
Nicole was staring over the rim of her mug at nothing. She nodded, her eyes still unfocused. “Magical rock armor, battling Fae kingdoms, champion swordfights . . . Sometimes I’m positive I’m in a coma and this is all a dream.”
She’d been angry before, but in that moment she just seemed pensive.
“No luck with the armor yet, huh?”
“None whatsoever. Based on what I’ve been told, I’m starting to think you all made a mistake about my bloodline.”
“But you do believe you’re Fae now?”
She sighed. “Yes. I was able to detect glamour, and I passed a couple of other minor tests.”
I eased back onto the sofa, stretching out my tired legs. “It’s a lot to take in,” I said quietly.
Her focus sharpened, and she looked up at me. “I have to figure out the stone armor. I can’t go back to the Duergar kingdom.” Her face had paled. “I’ve learned enough about the Unseelie to know I can’t end up there.”
I sat up and then pushed to my feet. “I might have something to help you,” I said and disappeared into my bedroom. I rummaged around in a box on the floor of the closet until my hand closed around a cool stone.
I came back to Nicole and held it up. “I used this when I was learning.”
The stone, about the size of a large marble, was the soothing pale white-blue of aquamarine.
She came over to examine it, and I handed it to her.
“How does it work?” she asked.
“Use the techniques they’re teaching you to summon rock armor, and keep that in your hand,” I said. “Imagine you can spread the minerals from the stone like butter over your skin. There’s nothing magic about it, it’s just a visualization exercise. But it might help.”
An almost-smile touched her lips. “Thank you,” she said and then slapped her fingers over her mouth, her eyes wide. Her hand fell away. “Oh, shit. I’m not supposed to say that here.”
I chuckled. “It’s okay. There was no magic attached to the words, so I won’t hold you to it. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I’m supposed to be helping you adjust, and I’ve done a piss-poor job of that.”
She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Eh, you’ve got bigger worries.”
My food arrived just then, as well as her escort to another session with Fern, her magic coach of sorts. Nicole folded the aquamarine stone in her hand and tucked her fist into the pocket of her jacket, giving me a little wave with her other hand as she disappeared out the door.
I did feel bad I hadn’t been more present. Nicole looked like a lost puppy. Not that I could do much for her—she’d been ripped from her life and home and thrust into a strange place that probably seemed like a fever dream. But once the battle was over, I’d make more of an effort. Most likely I was going to have to move back into the fortress, anyway, considering the way things were going on the other side of the hedge with my Guild job.
I stiffened, suddenly remembering my new assignment, and let out a string of curses. The chances of completing that job on deadline were slim to none, with my current obligation as the Stone Order’s champion. After a moment, I had to laugh at myself. Was I seriously worried about some piddly lost-object assignment when I might not even survive the challenge? It was a reflex, though—keeping good on my promise to make a life away from the fortress so I could hunt vamps. And in spite of how hard I’d fought in the past ten years to make it on my own on the other side of the hedge, I’d somehow ended up right back in the stone fortress.
I planted my hands on my hips and blew out a harsh breath through pursed lips. Kind of ironic. There I was, the champion of the Stone Order and about to fight an epic battle in Faerie but on the brink of bankruptcy and eviction from my apartment on the other side of the hedge. An observer might wonder why I was trying so hard to make it out there.
But I knew why—here, in Faerie, I might be the champion of the moment, but if I stayed permanently, I’d be under Marisol’s thumb. And on the other side of the hedge there would be criminal vampires on the loose, luring people in with their glamour, enticing them with the promise of VAMP3 charm, and victimizing weak and unstable people like my mother.
A rap on the door interrupted my sour thoughts.
A knot of officials, with Maxen and Oliver in the lead, stood on the other side. It was an array of tense faces and serious, unblinking eyes.
“It’s set,” Maxen said. “The High Court has ruled that the battle of champions will happen at dawn tomorrow.”
Chapter 25
MY FIRST THOUGHT was that the timing of the battle had to be at least a symbolic decision in my favor because Aurora was the sword of the summer dawn. I decided to take it that way, even if it was an arbitrary choice. My second thought was that my training had just come to an abrupt end.
A flurry of activities happened after that. A tailor came to measure me—apparently they’d been working on a custom battle uniform for me to wear—and then I was ordered to go back to the mineral sauna. Marisol had brought out a secret healing stone for my last sauna session of the day.
Oliver and Jaquard came into the mineral room with me. They’d discovered who my opponent would be.
“Darion is King Periclase’s brother,” Jaquard said. “Like Periclase, he acquired spontaneous New Gargoyle blood at the Cataclysm. Unlike Periclase, Darion is able to summon full stone armor.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “So he’s thick as an ox, and he has rock armor. What kind of training’s he had?”
“Standard Duergar battle ranks,” Oliver said and paused. “And he’s been the master of arms for the past two decades.”
Ugh. That meant he was an expert in various types of weapons, as well as various flavors of hand-to-hand combat.
I leaned back against the wall of the mineral room and folded my arms. “He may not limit himself to Twilight, then.”
The two swordsmen glanced at each other.
“This is where you may have an obvious advantage,” Oliver said. “He’s definitely more comfortable with short swords. The only time he ever worked with a larger blade was in his early military days. He will be required to start the battle with Twilight, as is the custom, but he’ll probably be looking for an excuse to go to the weapons he’s comfortable with. You’re each allowed an alternate weapon on your body. Two of them if they’re shorter than a broadsword. Short swords or daggers, for example.”
“Is he allowed to just toss Twilight at any time and pull out his short sword?” I asked.
Jaquard held up his index finger. “No, and that’s the trick. He can only use an alternate weapon if you managed to knock Twilight clear of his reach.”
I tilted my gaze to the floor, thinking. “Do I try to hold him to using Twilight, a weapon he’s less comfortable with but that can potentially kill me much easier? Or let him go for the weapon he’s more skilled with but that can’t pierce my rock armor?”
“That’s the question of the day,” Oliver said. “Jaq and I have talked about it, and we think that’s a strategic decision you’re going to have to make on the battlefield.”
I looked up at the two men. “It’d be nice to have that strategy hashed out beforehand, but I think you’re right.”
“The other thing to think about is the likelihood that Oberon will call a winner before anyone gets killed,” Jaquard said. “It’s happened in every champion battle in modern history.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
He gave a small shake of his head. “No one knows for sure. Some think Oberon considers the traditional fight to the death too uncivilized for modern times.”
“But it needs to be part of your strategy too,” Oliver jumped in. “If the battle is clearly favoring either you or Darion—”
“That must factor into my decisions,” I finished. “Because if Oberon calls it early, all I need to do is show that I’m the better fighter.”
“Exactly.”
“Any other intel about Darion’s skills or weaknesses?” I asked.
“He’s got a temper,” Jaquard said. “He’s not been known to show it on the battlefield, but he’s renowned in the Duergar kingdom for his short fuse.”
One side of my mouth tilted up. “I wonder how he feels about having to fight a woman.”
“I think it’s safe to assume his attitude is what many men’s would be in this situation, if they’re not familiar with your skills,” my father said carefully. “Over-confidence. Arrogance. Perhaps he’s even insulted on some level.”
“But that’s to your advantage,” Jaquard said.
A cold, calculating smile spread over my face. “And you can be damn sure I’ll use it.”
After the mineral room, I was fitted with my battle clothing. Vera, the lead stylist who’d overseen my makeover for the trip to the Duergar kingdom, came to lend a hand.
“I didn’t know battle gear was also your department,” I said teasingly.
“Oh my goodness, it’s not,” she said. “But a warrior can still utilize style. Your opponent, and your opponent’s kinsmen, will take note of your appearance. You must give the right impression.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough.”
My outfit was made of a thick woven material that glinted with metal threads. It wasn’t quite armor—I’d never fought with the weight of true armor and didn’t want to start now—but it would offer some protection. It was tight-fitting, with extra-thick layers around my torso and back and over my thighs, shoulders, and upper arms. The sleeves ext
ended down over the tops of my hands, with loops to go around my fingers and hold the sleeves in place. Light gloves of the same metal-laced fabric would give me protection and additional grip.
An ultralight and closefitting helmet was made of a flexible alloy with interior padding. It wouldn’t prevent getting my bell rung if I took a blow to the head, but it would keep a blade from slicing through my skull. An oblong oval opening allowed me to see unobstructed.
Shoes that looked like low-profile track sneakers had hidden metal plates over the arches and toes.
The whole getup was in the white-accented grays of the Stone Order, and it transformed me into a high-tech knight. Over it I added my scabbard that held Mort. The beat-up strap didn’t exactly match with the rest of the outfit, but the familiar pull of it across my chest and the weight of my shadowsteel spellblade made it feel complete.
I took the battle clothing off so the tailors could make a few final adjustments, and I put my regular clothes back on. Then it was off to a dinner meeting with Maxen so he could brief me on protocol.
We met in his quarters, which was a nice change from the flurry of the public spaces. We ate standing up at his kitchen counter and looking down at the tablet where he’d pulled up some images.
“This is the stadium of Oberon’s High Court,” he said, pointing at the picture. “Oberon and Titania will be in the royal box with their court and any special guests on either side and behind. The New Gargoyles will be on this side, and the Duergar on that side.”
“Do I get comped any tickets? Because I’d like them now so I can scalp them for rent money,” I said, deadpan.
He turned his sapphire gaze on me and slowly straightened. “All you have to do is say the word and you can come back to the fortress. This is your home, Petra.”
“This was my childhood home,” I said quietly. “That’s the thing. I can’t save my mother. No one was able to save her. But hunting down criminal vamps feels like the only connection I have to her. The only way to do right by her. Plus, you know how I feel about being under monarch rule every waking minute. I’ll do what I can for the Order—I am doing it—but I can’t just drop my Guild work. It’s important to me, too.”
