“Pet!”
I’m leaping out of bed and scurrying over to Mabon, before I’ve consciously registered a thing. And the shock of finding myself dutifully following him into his bathroom hits me like a punch to the gut.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’m being paraded around in my Princess Leia outfit again. Mabon appears to be genially strolling around the palace, exchanging pleasantries with passersby. It took me far too long to realise that showing me off is simply an excuse for him to already be out and about when this duel is officially announced. No doubt Mabon wants a front-row seat, so he needs to be here as soon as it happens.
Selwyn is striding along beside Mabon. The brown-haired fey has his hands clasped behind his back and is rewarding peoplewith charming smiles and generally looking like butter wouldn’t melt. But I’m not fooled. He isn’t innocent at all. He probably only shared his news with Mabon so he’d also have an excuse to be strolling around court. The man needs to get his own pet.
“A challenge has been issued!” someone calls out.
The words are taken up and repeated by others until it spreads out like a wave. Everyone starts moving in the same direction. The people dotted around the palace have become a crowd. A beast of one single intention.
We stream into what looks like an enormous ballroom. The crowd forms a circle, leaving an expanse of gleaming floorboards in the middle. Mabon and Selwyn stride forward, the crowd parting for the princes, until we reach the very edge of the circle.
I can’t believe I’m actually going to watch people fighting with swords. It’s so barbaric. Just how the fey manage to swan around thinking they are superior to humans and far more sophisticated, is beyond me.
A sparkle of light catches my attention. It’s a gleam from one of the many crystals the creepy duke has sewn onto his clothes. I’m glad he is on the opposite side of the circle from Mabon. The creep has a sickening look of avarice on his face. I’ve never seen bloodlust before, and it’s making me hate him all the more. But I can’t show a thing. I can’t even glare at the sicko because Mabon has forgotten all about gagging me in public and I’m sure as hell not going to give him any reason to remember.
And for some stupid reason, I truly do wish to keep Mabon’s secret. I could try to tell myself it is purely because I’m out of my depth and I have no idea what is going on and I need to learn the game before I play my cards. Mabon is scared of the duke but goes to great pains to hide it. And I don’t know yet if it is in my, and the Resistance’s, best interest to let the duke know.
But, while that all does sound rather reasonable, I have to admit to myself that it’s much more likely that the real reason is simply that I am a giant softy.
The crowd titters in excitement and parts briefly to allow two fey into the circle. These must be our combatants, but I can’t see any swords. However, the way they are glaring at each other and each holding their posture ramrod stiff is unmistakable. The hostility is so thick I swear I can taste it. I wonder what their beef is? I’m suddenly acutely curious. I guess I’ll ask Mabon later. I strongly suspect he is not averse to regaling gossip.
The duellists face each other. The one on the right has sapphire blue hair, all tied up in neat coils and twists. He doesn’t have any horns, only princes seem to have those. He does have what looks like cat ears, sitting on top of his head and not on the sides like a human’s. His skin has a very unhuman greenish tint to it too. And he has a long fluffy tail that is the same shade of blue as his hair. It is swishing back and forth now, for all the world like an angry cat’s.
His opponent has long hair that is russet at the top and coal black at the tips. The top half is neatly up in braids while the rest tumbles down to the small of his back. His ears are where a human’s would be, but very pointed. His eyes are yellow and slited, and he has cloven hooves instead of feet.
I swallow uneasily. Fey really aren’t human. And that’s terrifying. My mind can comprehend humans and animals. This strange category of something ‘other’ is freaking the hell out of my primal senses.
I think my survival instincts are in denial about Mabon and just categorises him as human so I don’t have a complete meltdown every five minutes.
Suddenly, a gong sounds and an expectant hush falls over the ballroom.
The blue-haired fey moves his hands. The cloven hooved fey stands stock still. I blink in confusion. Where is the explosion of violence? The weapons?
The gong sounds again. Now it is the hoof guy who is moving. What is going on?
I watch in utter bewilderment for a long while. Slowly, I start to make sense of it. They are fighting with magic and politely taking turns. The gong signifies the end of one turn and the beginning of the other person’s go.
The blue-haired fey makes a strange noise. A squeaking noise sounds out far behind him. The crowd shift and move. Hundreds of mice run between their feet and swarm to the hoof guy. They run up and all over his body. He stands stoically.
The gong sounds. Hoof guy makes a gesture with his hands. A series of small, awful thuds sound as all the mice fall off of him and lie unmoving on the floor.
Blue guy winces, and a cold fury fills his face. His fists clench by his side.
“Be still!” snarls hoof guy.
Blue guy’s sapphire eyes grow impossibly wide. He pales. He sweats. Poor bastard, I know exactly how that feels, except I never tried to fight it. This man clearly is. With everything he has. Long minutes tick by.
The gong sounds. The crowd erupts with excitement. Sapphire eyes flash with absolute horror.
“Gruffydd won!” exclaims Mabon.
The crowd is moving, jostling and elbowing one another. What is going on? The fight is over, isn’t it? Why has the atmosphere grown so giddy with anticipation? As if this is the good part?
I watch in confusion as the hoof guy, Gruffydd, walks around his defeated foe. He pulls pins from sapphire hair and it tumbles free. Each time a strand falls, the crowd gasps.
