“Puck,” Beezle said thoughtfully.
“I see my reputation precedes me,” he said, bowing extravagantly. “As does yours, Madeline Black.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It depends upon who you ask,” Puck said. “There are some members of this court who welcome your reputation, and all that comes with it.”
“Are you one of them?” I asked.
Puck smiled. “You can’t cozen me into admitting treason.”
“Is there anyone else around here who can be? A few allies wouldn’t go amiss right now,” I said.
“You present such a fearful appearance at this moment that I doubt you would get a truthful answer,” Puck said.
“Does Oberon’s glamour increase his strength or speed?” I asked Puck, getting irritated with this circular conversation.
He shrugged. “Who can say? It has been so long since Lord Oberon appeared without his glamour that he’s probably forgotten his true nature.”
“That’s not real helpful,” I said. “Are you here to help or to annoy me?”
“Who can say?” Puck repeated, winking at me.
“Yeah, okay, you’re cute,” I said, grabbing Puck’s shoulders and spinning him around. “Move along.”
He glanced back at me. “Remember, Oberon has as much at stake as you do.”
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
“That was useful,” Beezle said.
“You don’t sound sarcastic,” I said.
“That’s because I’m not. Puck helped you out.”
“Maybe I’m delirious from all the monster-fighting, but I fail to see…”
“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, the trial by combat will begin in one minute!” Puck announced. “The combatants will now step forth into the ring.”
I turned toward the center of the room and was surprised to see an actual boxing ring set on a dais in the middle of the room. Puck stood in the middle of the ring wearing a tuxedo he hadn’t been wearing a minute before.
In one corner of the ring stood Oberon. He’d stripped off the signs of his office, the jewels and furs and velvets, and wore only a pair of leather breeches. His chest was thin and milk white, but ropy muscle showed underneath his skin. In one hand he held a broadsword with a basket hilt.
“I’m not stripping down to my Skivvies,” I said to Beezle.
“Why not? Oberon might take one look at your little belly pooch and run away in terror,” he replied.
“Hark who’s talking about a belly pooch,” I said.
“Madeline has gotten thinner, in any case,” Nathaniel said.
“No, I haven’t,” I said automatically. How could I? I was overweight to begin with and now I was pregnant. I was only going to get bigger.
“No, she…” Beezle said, and then trailed off, frowning as he looked at me. “Actually, you have. I wonder if…”
“Madeline Black, please step into the ring!” Puck said in a singsong voice. “Your complete and utter destruction cannot take place without your participation!”
I climbed into the ring, wearing my bloodstained jeans and shirt and holding Lucifer’s sword. “You’re not as cute as I thought you were,” I said to Puck.
“Wait awhile and see if I change your mind,” Puck said in an undertone. Then, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the court and honored guests! Today’s entertainment is a trial by combat between our very own high Lord Oberon and the lady Madeline Black ap Azazel, representative of Lucifer’s court.”
“Uh-uh,” I said, not wanting the faeries to use my association with Lucifer as a new excuse to try to kill me. “I’m not representing anyone but me, and I’ve disavowed Azazel as my father.”
“Very well,” Puck said. “Madeline Black, then, representative of no one except herself. The rules of combat are these—there shall be no use of magic to harm one another within the ring. Combatants may use physical weapons only, with no assistance from outside the ring. There shall be no mercy offered and none given. This is a fight to the death. If these rules are broken by one combatant, then they no longer apply to the other. Begin!”
Puck spun a quarter turn and disappeared, reappearing beside Nathaniel and Beezle at one outside corner of the ring.
Oberon gave a wild war cry and charged me with his blade out to strike. I parried his blow quickly and slashed under his arms toward his stomach.
As quick as lightning, Oberon danced away from me, the tip of my blade never even coming close to his skin. I spun back to face him just as his sword slashed down at the shoulder of my sword arm.
I was fast, but not fast enough. The sword bit through my thin T-shirt and into the muscle just under the joint. As the sword cut me I felt a little sting of pain in the back of my neck. I clamped my teeth together so as not to cry out as he slid the blade out again. I would not give Oberon the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt me.
I turned on him more aggressively, hacking at whatever I could reach with Lucifer’s sword. It seemed he was always just a little faster, just a hairbreadth farther away than I thought.
A dull headache started to pound behind my eyes as my temper rose and I had to suppress my magic. All that power careened around inside me, looking for an outlet, and it took half my concentration just to keep it under control.
Blood dripped down my arm and made my hands slippery on the grip. My shoulder throbbed every time I swung the sword at the faerie king. I was starting to feel woozy. I hadn’t considered that it would be so difficult to defeat Oberon without magic. I never realized what a crutch my power had become. If something annoyed me, I just blasted it out of the way. I couldn’t do that now.