MY FIRST THOUGHT was that the timing of the battle had to be at least a symbolic decision in my favor because Aurora was the sword of the summer dawn. I decided to take it that way, even if it was an arbitrary choice. My second thought was that my training had just come to an abrupt end.
A flurry of activities happened after that. A tailor came to measure me—apparently they’d been working on a custom battle uniform for me to wear—and then I was ordered to go back to the mineral sauna. Marisol had brought out a secret healing stone for my last sauna session of the day.
Oliver and Jaquard came into the mineral room with me. They’d discovered who my opponent would be.
“Darion is King Periclase’s brother,” Jaquard said. “Like Periclase, he acquired spontaneous New Gargoyle blood at the Cataclysm. Unlike Periclase, Darion is able to summon full stone armor.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “So he’s thick as an ox, and he has rock armor. What kind of training’s he had?”
“Standard Duergar battle ranks,” Oliver said and paused. “And he’s been the master of arms for the past two decades.”
Ugh. That meant he was an expert in various types of weapons, as well as various flavors of hand-to-hand combat.
I leaned back against the wall of the mineral room and folded my arms. “He may not limit himself to Twilight, then.”
The two swordsmen glanced at each other.
“This is where you may have an obvious advantage,” Oliver said. “He’s definitely more comfortable with short swords. The only time he ever worked with a larger blade was in his early military days. He will be required to start the battle with Twilight, as is the custom, but he’ll probably be looking for an excuse to go to the weapons he’s comfortable with. You’re each allowed an alternate weapon on your body. Two of them if they’re shorter than a broadsword. Short swords or daggers, for example.”
“Is he allowed to just toss Twilight at any time and pull out his short sword?” I asked.
Jaquard held up his index finger. “No, and that’s the trick. He can only use an alternate weapon if you managed to knock Twilight clear of his reach.”
I tilted my gaze to the floor, thinking. “Do I try to hold him to using Twilight, a weapon he’s less comfortable with but that can potentially kill me much easier? Or let him go for the weapon he’s more skilled with but that can’t pierce my rock armor?”
“That’s the question of the day,” Oliver said. “Jaq and I have talked about it, and we think that’s a strategic decision you’re going to have to make on the battlefield.”
I looked up at the two men. “It’d be nice to have that strategy hashed out beforehand, but I think you’re right.”
“The other thing to think about is the likelihood that Oberon will call a winner before anyone gets killed,” Jaquard said. “It’s happened in every champion battle in modern history.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
He gave a small shake of his head. “No one knows for sure. Some think Oberon considers the traditional fight to the death too uncivilized for modern times.”
“But it needs to be part of your strategy too,” Oliver jumped in. “If the battle is clearly favoring either you or Darion—”
“That must factor into my decisions,” I finished. “Because if Oberon calls it early, all I need to do is show that I’m the better fighter.”
“Exactly.”
“Any other intel about Darion’s skills or weaknesses?” I asked.
“He’s got a temper,” Jaquard said. “He’s not been known to show it on the battlefield, but he’s renowned in the Duergar kingdom for his short fuse.”
One side of my mouth tilted up. “I wonder how he feels about having to fight a woman.”
“I think it’s safe to assume his attitude is what many men’s would be in this situation, if they’re not familiar with your skills,” my father said carefully. “Over-confidence. Arrogance. Perhaps he’s even insulted on some level.”
“But that’s to your advantage,” Jaquard said.
A cold, calculating smile spread over my face. “And you can be damn sure I’ll use it.”
After the mineral room, I was fitted with my battle clothing. Vera, the lead stylist who’d overseen my makeover for the trip to the Duergar kingdom, came to lend a hand.
“I didn’t know battle gear was also your department,” I said teasingly.
“Oh my goodness, it’s not,” she said. “But a warrior can still utilize style. Your opponent, and your opponent’s kinsmen, will take note of your appearance. You must give the right impression.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough.”
My outfit was made of a thick woven material that glinted with metal threads. It wasn’t quite armor—I’d never fought with the weight of true armor and didn’t want to start now—but it would offer some protection. It was tight-fitting, with extra-thick layers around my torso and back and over my thighs, shoulders, and upper arms. The sleeves extended down over the tops of my hands, with loops to go around my fingers and hold the sleeves in place. Light gloves of the same metal-laced fabric would give me protection and additional grip.
An ultralight and closefitting helmet was made of a flexible alloy with interior padding. It wouldn’t prevent getting my bell rung if I took a blow to the head, but it would keep a blade from slicing through my skull. An oblong oval opening allowed me to see unobstructed.
Shoes that looked like low-profile track sneakers had hidden metal plates over the arches and toes.
The whole getup was in the white-accented grays of the Stone Order, and it transformed me into a high-tech knight. Over it I added my scabbard that held Mort. The beat-up strap didn’t exactly match with the rest of the outfit, but the familiar pull of it across my chest and the weight of my shadowsteel spellblade made it feel complete.
I took the battle clothing off so the tailors could make a few final adjustments, and I put my regular clothes back on. Then it was off to a dinner meeting with Maxen so he could brief me on protocol.
We met in his quarters, which was a nice change from the flurry of the public spaces. We ate standing up at his kitchen counter and looking down at the tablet where he’d pulled up some images.
“This is the stadium of Oberon’s High Court,” he said, pointing at the picture. “Oberon and Titania will be in the royal box with their court and any special guests on either side and behind. The New Gargoyles will be on this side, and the Duergar on that side.”
“Do I get comped any tickets? Because I’d like them now so I can scalp them for rent money,” I said, deadpan.
He turned his sapphire gaze on me and slowly straightened. “All you have to do is say the word and you can come back to the fortress. This is your home, Petra.”
“This was my childhood home,” I said quietly. “That’s the thing. I can’t save my mother. No one was able to save her. But hunting down criminal vamps feels like the only connection I have to her. The only way to do right by her. Plus, you know how I feel about being under monarch rule every waking minute. I’ll do what I can for the Order—I am doing it—but I can’t just drop my Guild work. It’s important to me, too.”