As Millicent wrapped the leather thongs around my wrists, I couldn't help but notice that the leather was a hundred times softer than it had been before my first duel. Three weeks into my first visit to Fairy, I had gotten into the routine of waking up, having an indescribably good cup of fae-brewed coffee, and having a duel before my daily etiquette lesson and lunch.

"Who is it this time, Millie?" I sighed, sucking in a second breath and pushing it out until my lungs were completely empty. She pulled the laces of the thick leather corset tight and knotted the ends of the stays together before I inhaled again. We'd learned quickly that the initial discomfort was worth it when she'd tied it too loose, and an ambitious courtier had gotten her knife between it and my ribcage, slicing me deeply before I stabbed her in the arm to force her back.

“Her name is Celestine, Majesty,” Millie chirped pleasantly as she added the mail shirt over the corset. Calling it mail could never do it justice, though. The weave of the silver cloth was tight and fine, as soft as silk where it brushed against my skin, and just as light.

“Is she offended by some decree of my father’s, or just mad that I exist?” I knew I sounded self-pitying, but I didn’t care, and Millie the cave troll didn’t seem to mind. When she didn’t answer, I glanced up at her in the shadowy glass of the mirror.

“Oh, Majesty… I…” she stammered until I laughed.

“Now I need to know, Mill.” She giggled and blushed, her pale grey skin pinking up like the sky before sunrise. “Millie,” I gasped. “You are really very pretty, you know that?” Her blush deepened as she ducked her head.

“You’d best not say that in front of any of the other nobles, Miss. They think anything less than pure high fae is revolting.”

I snorted rudely and rolled my eyes at my reflection. “No, that’s just what they say in their sewing circles, as their maids clean up the mess they made, bouncing perfectly attractive lesser fae in their beds.”

Millicent gasped but didn’t argue, which would have been pointless. Halflings like Penelope and me lived all over the world, some never even knowing they had fae blood, all because of those dalliances the high fae pretended didn’t happen.

“Well, Celestine believes she can give your father a full-blooded royal son to inherit his throne.”

I tapped one of my knives on the footboard of my bed as she laced up the backs of the thigh-high boots. I liked them the most, even though they weren’t the most flattering things I’d ever worn on my legs. They came up to my crotch at the front, flaring out slightly over the knees to shield my thighs with stiffer leather, and hugging my calves tight.

They’d felt strange to wear at first, but after stopping a young fae male (who I was sure was fighting me on a dare) from slicing my femoral artery, I’d learned to appreciate the extra bulk. Like everything else that had allowed me to survive running the gauntlet since I’d arrived, I learned to function better with it than I ever had without.

“I wish these nobles would get it through their heads that I couldn’t care less about being a queen,” I muttered, adjusting the long shirt sleeves over my wrist sheaths. I carried a knife on each arm, one in the top of my right boot, and a needle-point dagger in my hair.

To her credit, Millie certainly did everything in her power to make sure I was ready to fight and win. I didn’t ask if she cared about who won. I liked her enough that it would’ve stung for her to remind me that all fae nobles were the same to her, even though she’d said it enough times in private to me when she forgot that’s exactly what I was.

“Are you ready Majesty?”

“Millie, for the thousandth time, it’s just Morgan.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just afraid I’ll forget when we’re not alone, Miss.”

I patted her hand and twirled for her and my reflection. "It terrifies me to know that I'm getting so that wearing this is more comfortable than my own clothes." She smiled sympathetically. "All right then. Let's get this over with. Cook promised me a giant human-style quiche for brunch, and I'm starving."

Even the ceremony that preceded each duel had become abbreviated, and fewer nobles attended as time progressed. I wasn't sure if I should be heartened that people finally realized how stupid it was, or worried that the people who were missing, were the ones who had cared if I lived.

Tiberius, the master of ceremonies, gave me the chalice of mortality, an empty gesture on my part, but when Celestine drank hers, I gave thanks to the Goddess as I watched her weaken and the glow fade from her skin. I had managed not to kill anyone yet, but I sure as hell wanted the chance to do as much damage to them as they could to me. It also knocked them out of rematches, as the healers’ quarter was quickly filling with fae who healed like humans.

Celestine turned to me with a scowl, curling her lip over delicately pointed teeth. I ran my tongue over my own canines, wondering if the fae I was about to fight was a kitsune like me. While I was of Celtic fae origins, there was no Gaelic term for ‘fox fairy.' With my pointed ears, fine features, and sharp canines, I did look foxlike. But I could also call lightning, and that was a kitsune power as well. So I kept the lesser fae label, even though announcing I was lesser fae could end the ‘is she really a princess' debate forever.

I wish it would.

“I choose magic,” my opponent called out, and I chuckled and shrugged, shaking my head.

"You challenged, Celestine, I get to choose," I reminded her before Tiberius could. "I choose knives." I hadn't tried to use magic in the mound yet after Tryst had warned me that if the mound did not accept me, it would use my magic against me to kill me. She glared at me, and I made a tick mark on the Morgan side of my mental tally sheet.

I figured that was at least part of the reason my challengers kept trying to claim the right to use magic, a hope that the mound would do the work for them and prove them right at the same time. Not today, Satan… or Celestine, as it were. I smirked at my own mental quip, but the flash of anger on her face told me she thought I was mocking her. Oh, great, just what I needed. For her to make it even more personal. I pushed away my thoughts and emptied my mind of anything but the fight ahead.

Even without her magic and from her pretty, unscarred armor, her complete lack of fighting experience, I couldn’t let my guard down. I’m strong, crazy strong for a mortal. I can turn a small car over if I want to. But a regular old, run of the mill, full-blood fae can pick up the damn thing over their head and throw it. So pretty and inexperienced or not, I wasn’t about to get within arms’ reach unless I was ready to cause her real damage.

I accepted the stained brown leather vest Millicent offered me from the side of the arena. It made it even more difficult to stab me through the heart but left my shoulders and arms less protected than a full leather jerkin would. It made my silver-clad arms the more attractive targets. Survival, as always, was key.

Tiberius cleared his throat and what little murmuring was coming from the pillowed seats in the stand immediately silenced. “Third blood wins, or to the death.” Millicent had explained to me that no one fought to the death anymore, but adding the caveat kept opponents from being charged with murder, because even among the fae, sometimes things happened.

Today, it would mean a slit throat or a difficult shot beneath the arm through the opening in the vest. I hadn’t killed a fae yet, but I fought every duel like it was to the death, because I had to assume my opponent wanted me dead, not humiliated. In other words, I’d never felt more at home.

Tiberius left the chalk outline on the stone that indicated the fighting circle and the wisps scattered from the center to the edges, and Celestine stalked towards me. I sort of missed the bell that would sound at the beginning of matches and blurted without thinking.

“Tiberius, you really need a bell, you know? Gives the fight a little something.” Celestine paused in her advance, glancing at the old fae in confusion.

“Are you not ready to begin?”

"Well, now that you ask, no, I'm really not. I haven't had breakfast, I was up all night studying ancient Gaelic, and frankly, these duels keep me so busy, I haven't had the time to see the underground gardens or the mermaid grotto." She gaped at me, and I sighed. "Yes, Celestine, I can fight, since you want to so badly. But I must admit, I tire of violence, when all I came here for, was to learn how not to hurt people with my magic."

She looked around at our audience, and I followed her gaze. Several of the spectators whispered to each other behind their hands or their folding fans, and her cheeks flushed. She glanced at me, and I saw a flash of intent a moment before she whirled, a knife appearing in her hand in the blink of an eye.

Shit. No matter how many times I caught the edge of their glamor, it still made my heart race. I managed to get my wrist up in time to block the first blow, grateful for the leather thong that we’d wrapped around it. I countered by pulling both blades from my wrist sheaths and using my lower center of gravity to my advantage. I bent my knees and slashed at her stomach, driving her back, then advanced and leg swept her.

Celestine fell on her ass with a shocked look on her face, but before I could capitalize, she was back on her feet and slashing wildly at me. I fell back and rolled over, righting myself and rising my right arm to block her just as she swept her blade down. I felt the plate inside the leather shatter as the leather fell away from my arm. Double shit. The bitch was cheating. Her blade hadn’t been bespelled when she first attacked.

I risked a glance around the room to see if anyone else could have done it, and almost tripped without any help at all from her. Up in the corner of the room, my Unseelie cousin, Fortunato, wriggled his fingers at me in greeting.

“You know that son of a bitch is helping you, but you’re not going to do the right thing, are you Celestine?” I said it low enough that even the fae with super hearing couldn’t overhear us.

“Who do you think promised me a throne if I killed you?” Her pretty face twisted in desperate ambition.

"I always wondered what that girl looked like." I backed a few steps away and winked at Fortunato, who grinned and licked his lips. It caused the bile to rise in my throat, but apparently, the fae didn't have the same ideas about kissing cousins as the human world. Fortunato's ego was so overwhelming he could simultaneously consider my imminent murder and the possibility of screwing me. Perfect, just perfect.

“What girl?” She moved to block my view of my cousin, her six foot-foot height just another advantage I planned to turn into a weakness.

“The stupid, desperate social-ladder climber that thinks she has a chance in hell with the Unseelie prince, Celestine.” I smiled, putting as much saccharine into my voice as I could. “Haven’t you noticed all his guards are short and curvy, like me?” She snarled and circled me, but her eyes kept flicking to him.

Her inexperience was more evident with every step she took. Once upon a time, she might have been a decent fighter. I imagined her a footman in the armies that swept across Europe hundreds of years before humans realized they were not vanquishing gods and learned how to fight back.

But I was part human, and I knew how to fight against a fae suffering from a lack of respect for the ancient art of the duel. I slipped my hand into my corset, and the steel ring I'd hidden there slid over my finger. In one smooth movement, I cocked my fist and slammed it into her arm. The steel wasn't enough to really hurt her, but the jolt threw her off balance enough that I managed to knock the knife out of her hand.

A series of quick jabs, a roundhouse, and she was backing away, her eyes wide with shock. I suppose she thought she was the only fae to think of cheating, and she’d thought she was sure to win with Fortunato’s blessing.

I swept her leg and dropped her on her back. In an instant, I straddled her, my knife to her throat in a submission move. "This is where you tap out, or I cut you, darlin'," I reminded her. "I get three strikes, and you haven't even drawn blood yet."

“I yield,” she gasped, her eyes so wide my own felt dry in sympathy.

“Good choice,” I whispered. “You really are too pretty to be fighting.” I glanced up to Fortunato, but as I expected, he’d left, probably the moment he knew I’d win.

“That’s what everyone said about you,” Celestine interrupted my thoughts. I glanced down at her.

“Pardon?”

“Everyone said you couldn’t win a duel without your father’s aid. That you were too…fragile.”

I scooted off her and laughed aloud. “Oh lordy, you fae really have no idea where I’ve been, do you?” I swiped at the uncharacteristic tears that burned my eyelids. “Put the word out to your friends, Celestine. I have survived since childhood among those who want me dead a lot more than you do. You are my last mercy. From now on, I will finish every duel, there will be no yielding.”

I stood and marched out of the ring with Millie chasing after me, picking up my gear as I dropped it on the stone floor. I reached my father’s door before my stomach reminded me I had started the day with another order of priorities.

“Go in, Lady. I’ll bring you human coffee and food. You will need to keep your strength.” Millie touched my arm. “He did wish to see you, you aren’t disturbing him.”

I didn't bother to tell her that ‘disturbing' my father was the least of my concerns. Since my arrival, I'd been in three duels a day, some days. Yet I had hardly had five minutes with the one reason I had for being there in the first place.

“Daughter.” He sounded as stern as he looked. “You have been fighting again.”

He made it sound like I had picked a fight out in the schoolyard and he'd just spoken with the principal. Having been in hundreds of battles over my upbringing among the witches who feared and hated my existence, I knew the tone well.

“You sound disappointed, Father. Is it because I’m being forced to fight, or because I won again?” I draped myself over the throne he had told me was mine, a step lower than his and to his right. My cousin, when he was in court, sat in its twin to the king’s left.

“I simply wish it was over with. You are capable and strong, and I don’t believe you will ever lose.”

"Then put an end to it. Name an heir, a nice, Seelie looking full-blood fae, and remove the temptation. Because I am done giving mercy to would-be assassins who we both know wouldn't do the same for me."