"Luxsana." Tellis gasped and raised her sword to me as I shifted my credulous stare from the crumpled form of the dead soldier to my cousin, to the wee folk pushing between us, trying to shield me.

“No. No, go, get out. Now.” I shoved at two pixies standing in front of me, armed only with sharpened sticks. “Gray, get them out, hurry.”

I saw the argument warring in his eyes with the knowledge that I was right, and I was the only one too far from the door to make I before Fortunato reached me. Tellis launched herself, and I grabbed the still burning sword by the hilt.

The sword was surprisingly cool to the touch, and slid free from the woman's head easily, with a sucking sound that made bile rise in my throat. "Oh, gods." I swallowed hard and raised the sword, falling into a loose fighting stance, balancing almost on the balls of my feet. The little people flooded out the small back door behind me, and I backed up with them until I felt the cool pre-dawn air at my back.

“Close the door, Trickster. We both have what we need.” My cousin sneered at me, his lip curling in hate and disgust. “How did you call Dyrnwyn? That sword has been lost since the second binding. Only the hero of Galaborn could call that sword.”

“Galaborn, patron god of soldiers and heroes? I fought the urge to glance behind me. That’s not possible.”

The Fae had three times bound their power, the first to end the war among the Seelie and the Unseelie Fae that threatened to destroy the primitive humans stuck in the middle of it. The second time was after the human/Fae war when we signed the treaty of Loch Lamond to never seek lordship over humankind again. The third was when the Fae petitioned Lincoln for the right to bring a piece of Fairy to America.

And Tryst had called it, wielded it, and killed with it. Even inside the barrier that removed magic, it blazed like it was fresh from the forge.

“How can a mortal hold the blade?” Tellis hissed. “How does the flame continue inside the prison wall?’

Fortunato's mouth turned up in a sneer. "Take the sword. When I hold it aloft in the throne room, all will know I am the true king." He feinted to my right, and I parried, only to have Tellis move in from my left, flanking me.

I backed away, but it forced me away from the doorway and back into the corridors, where I could finally hear the golem slowly shuffling its way toward us. Shit. Tellis attacked, bouncing back when I slashed out at her. A sharp burn sliced through my side as Fortunato caught me with the tip of his blade, and I bit off a curse and backed up more, closer to the groaning shuffle of the golem.

Aunt Portia would fucking love this, I thought, then lashed out at Fortunato, pretending to ignore Tellis. She swooped in to stab me in the side, and I dropped into a crouch, sweeping her legs and landing her on her back. I stomped on her short sword and growled at her, "Don't fucking thin about it. This fight's between my cousin and me."

A white wolf flashed past my peripheral vision, and Niall grabbed Tellis’ ankle in his jaws and dragged her out the door, taking advantage of the weakness Tryst had created in the magical barrier to the cheering crowd outside.

Fortunato’s eyes blazed as we circled one another. “You and your father will both die by that sword, Mongrel.” He slashed at me and danced back as I tried to figure out how to equalize the fight. My Fae magic barely sparked, even with the barrier weakened. I was still empty from the battles I’d already fought that night. My cousin, raised in the antiquated Fae society, was far more competent to sword fight than I was, and my arms were already tired from holding the dual-edged blade.

I heard it again, the thick, groaning shuffle of the golem moving along the corridor, drawn to the scent of my blood. I slid my arm down the flaming blade, praying it didn’t cauterize as it cut, but as Fae weapons often do, it seemed to understand my intention, and where it cut me, the blade stayed cool.

“Tell me, Fortunato, what makes you think Dyrnwyn will let you wield her?” I swung the blade in slow arcs in front of me, the flames dancing across his face. “What makes you think she will find you worthy?”

He scoffed and feinted at me, but I twisted out of his path and back down the corridor where I felt the golem still slowly, squishily hunting for the source of the blood that awakened it.

“The legends cannot be true, or a mongrel like yourself could not touch it.”

"Or they are true, and my best move is to toss it to you now and watch you burn to nothing." I feigned a throw, and he flinched, his eyes widening in horror as he screamed and ran straight at me, his blade at the level of my chest.

I sidestepped it and pivoted to meet him, now between him and the door, and he between me and the slow-moving golem. A wisp sped around the corner, flitting near my ear. "Bind him, before he destroys the Fae in the below," a high, squeaky voice demanded.

Damnit. It hadn’t occurred to me that the golem might veer away from us. I was counting on it coming straight at Fortunato, so I could lure it out to the meadow and destroy it.

Instead, I dropped to my knees and sunk my blade into the floor. Fortunato hesitated, and I slid my already healed arm down the blade, so blood pooled where it bit into the stone. As my cousin lifted his own sword again and bore down on me.

I traced a knot on the floor with my blood as the ink and muttered a simple spell of binding. If the golem had not arisen from my own blood, it would never have been strong enough to work. But as I held my breath, I felt the power of my coven flare up in me like an old friend, and the binding spell flared the height of the sword, pushing Fortunato back.

Just as fast he attacked again. The sword leaped from the ground into my hand, the flames soaring higher than before, then subsiding completely.

Fortunato laughed and attacked with a flurry of quick jabs. “You doused the flame. The sword rejects your magic.”

But there was another voice in my head that refuted it. "Life-giver, life taker. You do not work in flame but in blood. I am bound to you, and to your magic." Repulsed, I tried to throw down the sword, but it stayed in my clenched fist, bound to me.

"Hate to break it to ya, Cuz. This blade is mine now, bathed and bound in my blood. And it's hungry for yours." He opened his mouth to argue, but something in the fear in my face or voice stopped him. He backed away from me, as the muddy, wet shuffling came closer. "Behind you."

I didn’t bother to stick around to see how that fight would turn out. I hadn’t killed anyone yet. I didn’t want to watch my murderous accident devour his prey. I ran through the door as though it was about to disappear forever, into the meadow where three wolves with bloody muzzles, braced to attack, stared back at me.

My arm swung back to the door, the sword singing in my head that we could take the monster, and my cousin, and all of Fairy if I turned around. I slapped back at it mentally and kicked the door shut to stop the whispers in my head.

The sword let me drop it, and I fell to my knees next to the cool, blade, trying to ignore the pale red cast it gave in the moonlight. Tryst raced to my side but backed away in horror at what had become of his old blade.

“She was yours, wasn’t she? Trystan of Galaborn is you.”

“That blade is not mine.” He sounded disappointed, even angry.

“I’m sorry, Tryst. I never meant to take anything from you. I was trying to contain the beast I accidentally raised. I should never have attempted magic in the prison. I knew better, and I ruined your sword and…and I don’t know how to stop the golem without making things worse.

Geallta still clung to him, her face tipped back, eyes closed as she soaked in the last of the starlight. “I must take her from here. You must face your father and tell him what you’ve done. He is the only one powerful enough to stop your creation from murdering the Fae nobles and wee folk who remain.

He wrapped his arm around her, tenderly leading her from the blood-spotted grass still littered with bits of McDonough and Tellis’ empty, bloody armor. The Fae were gone, with no sign of their ever having been there, or of their queen.

“Go back to the pack, guys. I escaped under my father’s watch and just got my cousin and who knows how many Fae killed. No need for anyone else to share my punishment.”

The door in the side of the hill was gone, just bare dirt and roots remained where it had stood. I wished for the crone to ask why I was certain she would know. But she was gone too, so badly had she missed Fairy that she was willing to do anything to go back. If only she'd known, I would've gladly handed over my keys to her, if she'd asked.