Tamsin stared from the elf queen to her champion. He was struggling now, chest heaving for breath, entirely on the defensive.
The black knight’s broadsword swung downward like an executioner’s axe. In what was clearly a desperate, last-ditch move, Tamsin’s hero caught it between his crossed scimitars. The impact drove him to his knees, but he held the broadsword trapped, every muscle straining to keep the blade from cleaving him in half.
She knew that he’d keep his word. He would fight to the end. He was going to die for her.
“Hey!” Oh, this was stupid, she didn’t even know his name- “Hey you! Whatever magic you’ve got, whatever it is, use it now! Please!”
His eyes found hers. Despite the deadly sword barely inches from his face, she could read hesitation in them, and something more. Whatever strange power he had, he was…ashamed of it.
“Please,” she repeated in the barest whisper. “For me.”
His eyes hardened. For the barest instant, she thought she saw something else in them, a sudden blaze of gold—and then he was rolling away, so fast his shape seemed to blur.
No. His shape did blur.
The watching fae gasped as one, a mass in-breath of shock. Tamsin gasped too, unable to believe her eyes.
The man was gone. And in his place…
A massive stallion reared up, mane tossing, teeth bared in fury. The black knight didn’t stand a chance. His sword whirled through the air, smashed out of his hand by those iron-hard hooves.
An instant later, the knight himself followed. Fae shrieked and pushed to get out of the way as he smashed down into the crowd.
The stallion leaped forward, tail streaming like smoke, hooves cracking the marble tiles. The proud arch of its neck, the pure midnight gleam of its hide—Tamsin couldn’t breathe, lost in sheer wonder at its beauty.
Elves screamed and scattered as the horse plunged after the knight. For a second, Tamsin thought it was going to trample straight over its fallen opponent—but as it charged, its form shimmered again, swirling like smoke, shrinking.
A huge black-furred wolf landed on the knight’s chest, massive jaws clamping down on the man’s exposed neck. The knight froze, staring up into the wolf’s burning golden eyes.
“Yield,” the wolf growled, in the voice of Tamsin’s champion.
The black knight’s face darkened, contorting in frustrated rage…but his left hand tapped once, grudgingly, against the marble floor.
“Shameful,” one of the guards holding onto her muttered as the wolf released the knight. “A true high sidhe would have died first.”
Her other guard made a disgusted sound. “He’s no high sidhe.”
Tamsin glanced back at them, surprised. They both wore identical expressions of revulsion, lips curled in contempt. She’d thought they’d been talking about the black knight’s surrender…but they were staring at the giant wolf, loathing clear in their eyes.
The wolf shimmered into the form of the dark-haired man. For a moment, he just kneeled there, head bowed, tattooed arms shaking with exertion. But when he raised his head at last, his leaf-green eyes were as steady as ever, despite the blood running down his face.
“Sir Eogan.” The man got to his feet, tottering a little. It was clearly an immense effort for him to remain standing, yet he offered the fallen knight a deep, polite bow. “A good fight. I am honored to have crossed blades with you.”
The knight spat at the man’s feet. Without a word, he stalked off. A group of armored elves followed, murmuring to him in low, soothing tones and staring daggers back at the man who’d defeated their friend.
“Well, that was a surprise,” Lady Maeve drawled. “Who’s next?”
Outrage gave Tamsin the strength to jerk free of her guards at last. She rounded on the elf queen, fists clenching. “You can’t make him fight again straight away! Look at him!”
Maeve scrutinized the swaying warrior with clinical detachment. “I suppose it would be less amusing to watch him faint straight onto his next opponent’s blade. Very well. He may have a day to recover.”
“A day-?” Tamsin started furiously—but a hand closed over her shoulder.
“My lady is most gracious,” the warrior said to Maeve. His fingers tightened on Tamsin’s shoulder in silent warning. “I will endeavor to entertain you equally well tomorrow. May I take my leave, if it pleases you?”
“Of course, my dear beast.” Maeve dismissed him with an airy wave. “Rest. Recover. And Cuan?”
The warrior, who’d been steering Tamsin toward an archway, paused, glancing back. “My lady?”
“Enjoy your prize.” Maeve’s eyes gleamed, red as the blood pooling on the pale marble floor. “While you can.”