There was a man—a future king—in this room holding a sword, but it was difficult to take him seriously.
At least it was until Alison handed him the coin.
They watched as he turned it over in his hand and stretched it upright, turning it from an ordinary silver into an extraordinary weapon.
“My Gods,” said Alison. Was her own magic capable of such a thing, or was this some kind of dragon magic unique to the prince and his family?
“Still playing at the old parlor tricks, are we, ‘Dris?” asked Keir. He crossed the room and took the sword from Idris.
“And now,” said Idris. “We dance.”
Itwaslike a dance, Alison realized as she watched them. Keir moved with the same grace, the same elegance in a sword fight that he did while dancing by the bonfire.
But he was outmatched—either because Idris was simply the better fighter or because he was trying to kill Keir and Keir was trying only to disarm Idris. It made for a deadly imbalance, and Alison began to truly fear for their lives for the first time during this ordeal.
“Watch out!” she shouted as Idris feinted to the left and struck a blow to Keir’s side that slashed open his pajama bottoms, leaving a scraping wound on his leg.
“It’s just a scratch,” said Keir, breathless. “Stay back.”
Rinka and Alison moved to the doorway as Idris jumped onto the bed, swiping at Keir’s ear but losing his balance temporarily on the soft mattress.
Rinka saw her chance and lunged for Idris’s ankles, sending him careening face down onto the bed.
“Keir!” yelled Alison, holding out her hand. He ran around the bed and took it with his left, and she sent a surge of power through them.
Rinka leapt backwards to the wall as Keir raised the sword.
“Now!” Alison shouted, and Keir brought the sword down into the empty air between where Alison stood and where Idris was pulling himself upright on the bed.
Alison felt a slice through something; a clean, cauterizing wound that caused her no pain. It felt as though her hair had been cut, and she found herself touching the dark end of her plait to make sure it was still intact.
Idris turned over in the bed, propping himself up against the wall. His chest heaved from the exertion. He was remarkably handsome, Alison realized, shooting an approving look at Rinka for her good taste and good fortune as her friend went over to check on him.
Alison stumbled towards the bed and took a seat down on the corner, suddenly feeling as though she had been running and jumping around the room herself.
“It takes it out of you, doesn’t it?” asked Idris.
Alison felt as though she might fall asleep again despite only having woken an hour or so earlier. “This is what magic does?”
Keir took a seat beside her. “Are you alright?” he asked. “I feel a bit dizzy myself.”
“Well, I feel fine, but what in the world just happened to us?” asked Rinka as she reached for a towel to dry her face and hair.
“The fairies,” said Idris. “One of their games, no doubt. They always are good for a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” asked Rinka. “You call that fun?”
“I think you’re right,” said Alison. “I asked them for help understanding how to use my magic, and I think this was their lesson.”
“A harsh lesson,” said Rinka. “We could have killed each other!”
“I’m not sure we could have,” said Idris. “I felt restricted while under the spell. I couldn’t change form. I suspect there were invisible railings to prevent us going too far.”
If that was what Idris was capable of while restricted, Alison feared what he could do unbridled.
“How is your wound?” Idris asked Keir, who had fetched the washbasin from his room to clean it.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “A pity I never got the hang of the healing spells I researched, but perhaps I was missing an important element.” He looked at Alison.
