Marny (28 page)

“You too.”

“Clear a space,” the king commanded.

The creatures of the court sprang to do his
bidding, moving the tables and couches aside, then gathering in a
rough circle. Marny, a pack slung over each shoulder, edged toward
where the White Stag stood. Emmie remained quiet and unresponsive
upon its back.

It hurt Nyx’s heart to look at his sister, so
he concentrated on running through a quick set of warmups, trying
to loosen and limber his muscles.

The Bright Lance paced into the center of the
cleared space. He was taller than Nyx, his breastplate engraved
with swirling designs. At his side hung a slender sword, and he had
a small round shield upon his back.

“Um, don’t I get to choose my weapons?” Nyx
asked.

The court laughed, and the king’s champion
smiled.

“I believe the choice is whether or not to
use magic,” the Bright Lance said. “Which do you prefer?”

Ah, dammit. Nyx shook his head. They’d boxed
him right into that corner, hadn’t they?

“No magic,” he said.

The Bright King raised his hands, sketching
strange symbols in the air. A moment later, a ring of knee-high
scarlet flames encircled the two combatants.

“Fighters must remain in the circle of fire,”
the king said. “No magic may pass the barrier. At first blood, the
combat is ended. Make a fine sport of it.”

Clearly that last comment was for his
champion, who looked more than ready to draw his sword and cut Nyx
that very instant.

Great—on tonight’s entertainment bill was
“bait the human.” It was obvious everyone in the court expected the
Bright Lance to win. Well, except for Marny, who was making her
slow, imperceptible way over to the White Stag.

Time for him to provide some distraction. He
cracked his neck, went into a defensive stance, and beckoned to the
Bright Lance.

“Come at me, bro.”

“Gladly.”

With no further warning, the faerie knight
rushed forward, blade already in motion.

Nyx waited until the last possible second in
order to take his opponent by surprise, then dropped and swept his
leg out, hoping to bring the knight down. The Bright Lance’s sword
swished just past his ear, but his opponent was too nimble, and
leaped over Nyx’s outstretched leg. Still, he’d missed his strike.
As he overshot, Nyx danced back.

Despite the fancy armor, the faerie moved
quickly and easily. He didn’t equip his shield, which meant he
still didn’t think Nyx was much of a threat.

Okay, first order of business was to disarm
the Bright Lance. Nyx pulled out his nunchaku, gave them a quick
twirl, then dropped into a ready stance.

“You consider two sticks an adequate weapon?”
the faerie scoffed.

Nyx didn’t bother replying, just kept his
eyes on his opponent’s blade. In order to entangle the sword, he’d
have to let it get close enough to cut him. Good thing he’d spent
years sparring, watching angles of attack and training his body to
react quickly.

Life wasn’t just about playing video games,
after all.

The Bright Lance pulled his sword back and
charged. Adrenaline sizzling through him, Nyx sidestepped and flung
the nunchaku out. The chain slung around the hilt of the sword with
a satisfying clunk, and he caught the flying end of the stick as it
wrapped back, landing in his palm with a hard slap.

He wrenched and the sword flew out of the
Bright Lance’s grasp. Nyx pivoted, letting the momentum carry the
blade away. Regretfully, he had to release his nunchaku, too. Both
weapons sailed through the air, clearing the circle of flame.

The faerie let out a cry of rage as the
watching creatures scrambled to avoid the sword and nunchaku. From
the corner of his eye, Nyx saw Marny grin. She was nearing the
stag—but still not close enough to snatch Emmie from its back.

“Clever,” the king said from his vantage
point upon his throne. “You humans can be the most surprising
creatures.”

The Bright Lance bared his teeth. “Cleverness
will not win you this match.”

Quicker than thought, he rushed forward. Nyx
threw his arms up into a block, but the faerie bore him to the
ground. Damn, the guy weighed a ton. Was he able to adjust his body
mass at will?

The Bright Lance got one arm across Nyx’s
throat and began to press.

I don’t think so.

Grabbing the top of the faerie’s breastplate,
Nyx pulled hard. Overbalanced, the Bright Lance tumbled forward and
Nyx slithered out from under him.

Time to get serious. He scrambled up and
reached under his sleeve for one of his sheathed throwing stars. As
the faerie knight rose, rage burning from his silvery eyes, Nyx
flung the sharp-edged shuriken.

The star blurred, and the Bright Lance ducked
aside with quicker-than-human reflexes. Instead of hitting his
neck, the weapon pinged off the faerie’s armor and spun away to
land outside the scarlet line of flames.

Dammit. Nyx only had one more in the
sheath—the other shuriken were tucked in his sack. Stupid.

The Bright Lance rushed him again. Nyx leaped
to the side, almost stepping outside the circle of flame. The
watching fey folk murmured, their eyes bright with
anticipation.

Quickly, Nyx pulled out his remaining
throwing star and held it between his fingers. The goal now was
first blood, and he literally couldn’t throw away his last chance.
He’d have to wait for his opponent to get close.

Too close. But it was necessary.

T
he
scarlet flames surrounding Nyx and the Bright Lance flickered,
painting red reflections on the faerie’s armor.

“Enough of this foolishness, mortal,” the
Bright Lance said. “I am here to fight you, not dance with
you.”

“Okay, then.” Nyx rushed forward, foot lifted
to deliver a double kick.

The feint worked. The knight focused on the
first, weaker kick while Nyx rebounded into a roundhouse. His right
leg whipped out, the top of his foot connecting with the Bright
Lance’s temple, but instead of going down, his opponent only
staggered backward a pace.

As Nyx whirled back into his stance, the
faerie rushed him, one bare hand outstretched. The Bright Lance’s
nails were filed into points, easily sharp enough to pierce the
skin.

Ah, crap.

Feeling like he was moving in slow motion,
Nyx stepped to the side, prepared to use his opponent’s momentum to
send him flying past—ideally, all the way out of the circle. But
the Bright Lance corrected, and Nyx had to drop to his knees on the
grass to keep those fingernails from slicing across his cheek.

The faerie pivoted, too fast for the human
eye to see, and lunged, bearing Nyx down and pinning him to the
ground. His breath went out in a huff of pain. Dimly, he heard
Marny call out, but all his attention was on the icy rage in his
opponent’s eyes.

“And so it ends,” the faerie hissed, raising
his fingers into claws above Nyx’s face.

“Yep,” Nyx gasped.

The knight had gotten a knee right into his
solar plexus—but though he might be down, Nyx wasn’t done.

Holding the Bright Lance’s gaze, he whipped
his hand up. The edge of the throwing star sliced the side of the
faerie’s hand, and he gave a howl of pain. In that moment of
distraction, Nyx threw his opponent off.

He scrambled to his feet and sucked in air,
trying to get his breath back. His ribs ached where the knight had
landed on him, and would probably hurt a whole lot more once the
adrenaline surging through him subsided.

“Hold,” the Bright King said as his champion
gathered himself to attack. “First blood has been drawn.” He nodded
to the trickle of purplish blood encircling the Bright Lance’s
wrist.

“But, my liege—”

“Silence. The terms of combat have been
fulfilled. Much as it pains me to say it, the human has won.” The
king sounded unhappy, but not as pissed as he might be. Maybe he’d
enjoyed the show after all.

The monarch snapped his fingers and the
scarlet flames vanished. Slowly, the White Stag paced forward,
bearing Nyx’s sister. Marny walked at its side, one hand
protectively on Emmie’s leg. Her gaze met Nyx’s, full of approval
and unwavering confidence, and he let out a long breath.

They’d won. Barely, but he’d rescued his
sister.

Although they weren’t safely home yet. He
wouldn’t put it past the Bright King to pull some last-minute
shenanigans.

“I claim victory,” Nyx said. “Now give me my
sister.”

The king regarded him, endless ages echoing
in his eyes. A deep sorrow and joy whirled there, and for a moment
Nyx swore he glimpsed stars.

“I release your sister from the Bright
Court,” the king said. “The White Stag has agreed to bear the three
of you safely from my domain. Will you accept?”

“Yes,” he said.

“No,” Marny said, sending him a panicked
look.

Nyx frowned as she shook her head at him, but
it was too late. He’d accepted the king’s proposal—and really, safe
passage out of the Realm was a good thing, right?

“Mount yourselves upon the stag,” the king
said, gesturing. “He is strong enough to bear three.”

The White Stag gracefully went down on the
gold-tinged grasses and gave Nyx an expectant look from its dark
eyes.

“Nope,” Marny said. “I’m not taking this
ride.”

“Get on.” Nyx slung his leg over the stag.
Its hide was soft as velvet. “It’s our ticket out of here.”

“Yeah, but to where?”

“Mistress Marny,” the Bright King said, and
there was a low tolling in his voice, a bell warning of an
approaching storm. “Do you wish to remain here in my court? You are
most welcome to do so.”

“Not really.” Marny edged closer to the
stag.

“Then mount and depart. Or stay and revel
among the fey folk for centuries, leaving your mortal cares behind.
The choice is yours.”

“Crap,” she said. “Frying pan, meet
fire.”

“Get on, already,” Nyx said.

It worried him that Emmie was still so
unresponsive, but if he had to, he’d send her off with the White
Stag while he and Marny stayed behind to battle their way out of
the Bright Court.

Why did Marny have to be so stubborn?

Finally, she handed him his pack, then set
her hands on his shoulders and seated herself behind him on the
stag. She leaned forward, her warmth pressing against him, and
whispered, “Think we could steer this thing over to the
bonfire?”

“I’ll try.”

Though without any bridle or reins he wasn’t
sure how. Maybe the deer would respond to a few kicks in the
side.

“Excellent,” the Bright King said. “Your
visit has been most entertaining. Fare thee well, mortals.”

The White Stag rose, jolting them a little,
and Nyx held on to his sister.

“Emmie,” he said. “Wake up. Are you
there?”

She made no response—which was probably a
good thing. Once they returned to the human world, though, if she
didn’t snap out of it he was going to come back to the Realm and
kick some faerie ass.

The king waved his hand in dismissal, the
harp struck up a jaunty tune, and the stag turned regally and began
pacing out of the court. To their left, the bonfire glittered with
rosy flames.

“Turn, please.” Nyx kicked his heel against
the beast’s side, softly at first, then harder.

The White Stag ignored him, and he didn’t
want to make it buck or rear by bashing too roughly at its ribs.
Marny added her prodding, then leaned hard in the direction of the
bonfire.

“Come on,” she said. When the stag refused to
turn, she let out a frustrated breath. “We have to jump off and
drag Emmie over to the fire.”

Nyx nodded. “On three. One. Two.” He
tightened his grip on his sister and prepared to leap off. This was
going to be a little tricky.

“Three.”

Neither he nor Marny budged. Their legs were
stuck fast with magic to the sides of the White Stag. He cursed
under his breath and tried to pry at least one of his legs free.
Marny huffed out a sound of annoyance, and he could feel her
attempts to twist off the deer, too.

“Stupid faeries,” she said bitterly.

“Dammit.” He craned his neck as the bonfire
receded behind them.

They needed flames to activate their
talismans, and he hadn’t brought a lighter or anything. Would they
have to wander around the Realm aimlessly until they found another
source of fire?

The laughter of the fey folk followed them as
the White Stag, seemingly oblivious to the struggling humans on its
back, entered the forest of gemmed trees. Glowing balls of light
chased them, zipping over their heads and twirling in the air.

Two of the pixies descended, whirling about
the humans with dizzying speed. One landed on his shoulder, then
dived into the sack he carried.