The Iron Knight

my anger flared. “All right,” I snapped, swinging my sword in a wide arc, forcing Other Ash back a step. “On three, then. One … two … three!”

We spun, half circling to the left, taking each other’s places and the reflections that came with them. The two Other Pucks blinked at me, surprised, and leaped back as I lunged at them with a snarl. One pulled something out of his pocket and threw it at me, but I’d fought Puck on countless occasions and knew all of his tricks. The furry ball erupted into a squealing badger, flying at my face, but I was already slicing at it, cutting it from the air. It shattered in a tangle of twigs and pine needles, and I lunged through the cascade, plunging my sword into Robin Goodfellow’s chest.

He dissolved into a swirl of autumn leaves as the last Puck leaped through the curtain with a howl, stabbing viciously with his dagger.

“This seems familiar, ice-boy,” Other Puck said, grinning savagely as we parried and sliced at each other. “Think you’ve got the guts to actually go through with it this time?”

I responded by slashing at his face, barely missing him as he ducked. “Oooh, that had a bit of temper behind it.” He sneered, eyes gleaming as he circled back. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you, just because of our history. I’m not like my other half—weak, pathetic, restrained …”

“Loud, obnoxious, immature,” I added.

“Hey!” the real Puck called from farther down, dodging as Other Ash slashed at him. “I’m standing right here, you two!”

Other Puck laughed, a cruel sound that made me bristle with loathing. “That’s the problem with my other half,” he said, lunging forward with a series of vicious cuts that forced me back a few steps. “Somewhere in the long centuries, he managed to grow a conscience and turn completely boring. If he dies here, I’ll be all that’s left. As it should be.”

“Interesting.” Grimalkin appeared in front of a mirror. “I do not know which is more annoying, the real Goodfellow or the reflection.”

“Well, considering they are one and the same,” said a second, identical Grimalkin, materializing next to the first, “we should be thankful that there will be only one left when this is all over.”

“Agreed. Two Goodfellows would be more than anyone in this world could take.”

“I shudder to think of the implications.”

“You are so not helping, Grimalkin!” the real Puck called, ducking beneath a savage head strike. “And we’re not here to have tea with our evil doppelgängers! Shouldn’t you two be trying to kill each other?”

The Grimalkins sniffed. “Please,” they said at the same time.

Over my opponent’s shoulder, I saw Other Ash block an upward strike, then lash out with a kick that sent Puck sprawling onto his back. The reflection stepped forward, raising his sword, but Puck reached back, grabbed a handful of twigs and flung it at his assailant. They turned into a swarm of yellow jackets, buzzing around the fake prince, until a vicious burst of cold sent them plummeting to the ground, coated in frost.

“Hey!” Other Puck stabbed forward viciously, making me leap back to avoid him. “The fight’s here, ice-boy. Don’t worry about your boyfriend, worry about yourself.”

I backed farther into the hall, and Other Puck followed, smiling demonically. “Running away?” he taunted, as I drew my glamour to me, feeling it surge beneath my skin. “Always a coward, weren’t you, prince? Never had the guts to really go for the kill.”

“You’re right,” I murmured, startling him. He frowned in wary surprise, and I smiled. “I always regretted my words against Puck. There was always a part of me that didn’t want to go through with it.” I lowered my blade, touching the tip to the floor. Ice spread from the point of the weapon, coating the ground and the walls, freezing the mirrors with sharp crinkling sounds.

“But, with you,” I continued, narrowing my eyes, “it’s different. You’re the part of him that I hate. The part that revels in the chaos you cause, the lives you destroy. And I can say this with complete certainty—killing you will be a pleasure.”

Robin Goodfellow’s face twisted into a vicious sneer. Snarling like a beast, he lunged at me, dagger gleaming in the icy hallway. I stepped back, raised my arms and brought them forward with a shout and a burst of glamour. The frozen mirrors shattered, flying outward in an explosion of deadly, razor-sharp shrapnel, catching Puck in the very center.

There was one high-pitched yell of dismay.

And then there was nothing except the shards tinkling to the ground and a few black feathers spiraling down to the floor. Other Puck was gone.

“Very nice, Ash.” My reflection’s voice echoed through the hallway. “But you’re still too late.”

I looked up, my stomach tightening. Other Ash stood in front of Puck, one hand on the faery’s throat, pinning him to the wall. Puck dangled weakly, his face covered in blood, his daggers glinting several feet away.

“You defeated Goodfellow’s reflection,” Other Ash mused as I started forward, already knowing I wouldn’t get there in time. “Congratulations. Now it’s my turn.”

He raised his sword, and drove it through Puck’s chest, staking him to the wall. The mirror behind Puck shattered, raining to the floor in a softer imitation of the havoc I had just caused. Puck’s mouth gaped; he clutched at the sword in his chest—

—and disappeared, vanishing in a shower of leaves. Other Ash blinked, startled for just a moment, then quickly yanked his sword out of the wall and stepped back.

There was a blur over his shoulder, and he stiffened, jerking his head up. As I reached him, his sword fell from his hand, clattering to the ground, and he turned cold, hateful eyes on me.

“You … will fail,” he whispered in a choked voice, and disappeared, like mist in the sunlight.

Puck stood behind him, eyes hooded and grim. His dagger, where it had been stuck in the prince’s back, floated in the air for a split second before plummeting toward the ground. Puck caught it as it fell and smoothly slid it back into its sheath, giving the broken mirror a rueful look.

“Yeah, two can play at that game, ice-boy,” he muttered, and shook his head. Glancing at me, he offered a wry, slightly pained grin. “I found that oddly therapeutic, how about you?”

“Idiot,” I told him, to hide the relief on my face. His grin widened as if he saw it anyway, and I scowled, embarrassed. “Come on, we’re not out of here yet.”

“No, you can’t leave!” hissed a voice behind me. I spun, bringing up my sword, as Other Ariella lunged out of the mirror, her eyes blank and terrible.

Something streaked past my face from behind, and Other Ariella jerked, freezing in place, as the shaft of an arrow jutted from her chest. She slumped, reaching out for me, then evaporated from sight, the arrow dropping to the ground and shattering on the floor.

I turned and saw Ariella on her feet beside the Wolf, her bow raised and the string still vibrating from where it had loosed the shaft. Her gaze met mine, eyes hard, and she nodded.

“Well, that was fun,” Puck stated as we hurried over, passing the two Grimalkins, watching us with identical bemused expressions. “I’ve always wanted to see myself die in a horrible ice explosion. You never pulled that stunt while we were dueling, ice-boy.”

“Save it for later,” I said quickly. “We have to keep moving.”

“It is too late.”

We turned as the Grimalkins stood, waving their tales. “You have failed,” one of them stated, regarding each of us imperiously. “Your time is up. The doors are getting ready to close.” And, in true Grimalkin fashion, he vanished without a trace.

“Hold on,” Puck said, pointing to the one remaining cat. “Which Grimalkin disappeared … ?”

“Puck, there’s no time! Come on!”

We tore down the mirrored hallway, past our reflections, which were back to normal again. The corridor finally opened into a large circular room with pillars soaring up into the darkness of the ceiling. On the other side, through another long corridor, I could just see a tall, rectangular space of light.

And it was shrinking.

As we tore across the room, voices suddenly echoed around us, low moans and wailings, making the candles flicker. From the walls and the floors, pale, misty figures began emerging, clawing at us as we passed. A troll, coming up through a broken pillar, latched on to my belt, trying to drag me down. I struck out with my blade,