“I’m gonna crap my pants.” Nick said.

Somehow, I didn’t strangle him.

After the terms were finalized, a handful of shadow people escorted us to the square open area at the end of the hall, pushing and prodding if we moved too slowly. The wide ream of royal red carpet bisected the square, which I eyeballed at about twenty-five square feet. There was ample flat terrain, more than enough for a simple duel.

“And why are you crapping your pants?”

“I thought the Knights of the Round Table were a myth.” Nick ground his teeth, leaning forward a bit to sneak a glance at Stonewall, who was conversing with Dent. “But that guy has seen some shit. Like Battle of the Bastards level shit.”

“No, he thinks he’s seen some shit.”

“I think he’s seen some shit.” Nick pointed at his own chest for emphasis, on the verge of panic. “He fought the Romans and won, Matt. As in the Roman Empire? As in the dudes went to war in skirts and despite that, still somehow conquered almost everything?”

My mind ticked. “Okay, one, the Knights of the Round Table are fictional. The Roman Empire wasn’t. They never actually fought, and if that guy comes from a version of Arthurian lore where they fought the Romans, it was probably some sort of weird 12th century British propaganda.”

“How does that help me when fictional-propaganda-man is standing right there?” Nick hissed.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Just, chill. Give me a second.”

“He’s so casual about it. Cool. Like he’s the real deal.” Nick said, genuine admiration in his voice.

I peered at Nick. “Do you want to fight him or marry him?”

Nick extended his arms, “Where’s the none of the above option?”

“That’s the one where you don’t tell me, confidently, that you want a fair duel only to crumble like a house of cards shortly after,” I snapped.

“Fuck.” Nick said, loud enough that the heads of several nearby shadow people turned our way. “Fuck.”

Need to head him off before he spirals.

“Listen.” I took him by the shoulders and forced eye-contact. “Putting aside the fact that he’s a fictional character, there are plenty of reasons this could go in your favor. One, his memories are artificial, same as Audrey’s and Talia’s.” I left out Azure, for obvious reasons. “Remembering battles and war campaigns might make him self-assured, but there’s no guarantee his memories will directly correspond to ability and skill. They probably won’t.”

“Sure you’re not just blowing smoke up my ass?”

“Certain. Because he’s not even the final product. Said it himself. His god threw him away. He was a failed experiment, just like the Grimelings. Meaning that even if there is a version of him out there in the tower that can back up the Roman-spanking, this one probably can’t.”

Nick squinted at Stonewall again and seemed to accept that as a possibility. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. Just got intimidated by the stories.”

“Never happened.”

“Right, he just thinks it happened.” Nick paused, taking several deep breaths. Slowly, his prior confidence returned. “Just… on the off-chance he ends up nuking me from orbit, look after this, okay?” He placed Jinny’s User core in the palm of my hand. “And if you manage to bring her back, tell her I’m sorry, and stuff.”

I glanced next to Stonewall at Dent, who despite his helmet, did an excellent job of giving the impression of leering. He made a gesture that resembled a man forcing his thumbs into two overripe tomatoes. “Yeah. Probably gonna need to train Talia to see for me and go cane-shopping while I’m at it, but after I get my bearings, I will.”

“What?” He gave me an odd look. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The concern in Nick’s expression grew. “What did you do?”

“Crawl out of my ass, I did what I had to. That’s the way this works, right?” When the answer didn’t satisfy him, I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “The negotiator had a specific… request. A condition to be satisfied if you lose. I was able to spin it into better terms for us.”

“What request?” Nick’s voice was stone cold.

I sighed. “If you lose, Arthurian Psycho over there gets real up close and personal with my eye-sockets.”

Golden aura flared around Nick’s shoulders, reflecting off his metal armor. He stared daggers at the tall knight, hefted the blade he’d selected and spun it at the wrist. “And if I win? Do you get up close and personal with his eye-sockets?”

“No.”

“Then I’m fighting him next.” And with that Nick walked away, towards the center of the square.

“Wait,” I called after him, “We need to strategize—”

He didn’t even bother to look back and didn’t stop until he reached the center of the square.

I rubbed my mouth and hid a smile behind my hand. The truth was, Nick didn’t need a tactics session. He needed motivation. And sure, I could have mentioned the fact that I’d taken Dent as a contingency, which made the ocular threat approximately as dangerous as a safety cone, but why deny Nick the fuel? I hadn’t forgotten how he sprung into overdrive when I’d been captured by the spider during the trial. He’d gone from capable but inexperienced fighter to absolute wrecking ball.

Talia’s eyes bored into me from where she heeled at my feet. “I’d ask if anyone’s ever called you a bastard, but the answer is clear.”

“Uh-huh.” I glanced at her. “Was I right?”

Talia looked away, towards where Nick stood at the center. “Not entirely.” She switched to nonverbal communication, voice echoing in my mind. “They are only Eldritch in part. The mana in these ripples is aberrant to begin with. That, combined with their abandonment and subsequent bitterness tainted their souls, compounding until they drew too deeply on the wrong sort of mana.”

“Is there enough Eldritch in the mix that you could do serious damage?” I asked.

“Perhaps. But I do not know if my purification abilities alone will be enough to turn the tide.”

That was fine. If Nick could deliver the goods and everything stayed above board, it might not even be an issue. I settled in at the edge of the circle, across from Dent. He was doing something with his thumbs again, trying to get in my head. I ignored him and took in the situation. There were knights on both sides of the circle. Some were obviously keeping tabs on me, but most were on Stonewall’s side of the arena, murmuring amongst themselves. From the body language, they weren’t exactly worried, but they weren’t thrilled, either. And unless I was reading it wrong, several of them seemed to be overtly glaring in Dent’s direction.

Not happy with the terms of the duel. Something in there hurts him. Good.

Stonewall didn’t share their concerns. He’d crossed his arms and conversed with Nick at the center, though Nick seemed a lot less interested in conversation than mean-mugging Dent. His mouth was a straight line, his eyes cold, and for a moment, I could guess why Hastur wanted Nick emotionless and free of guilt.

Because if he ever looked at me that way?

I’d start running.

Having grown tired of all the preamble, Stonewall took a few loose steps back and stopped, lifting his sword in simple salute. Knights and shadows alike fell silent.

Nick returned a deep nod that was almost a bow. Then brought his weapons to bear.