I drew in a deep breath and cast a spell net over him, one that would slow his movements. I sought the key of the dream—the crux to break the nightmare—and thrust my rapier at him, aiming at his heart. He blocked it, his movements like honey warming over fire, returning to their previous swiftness. We continued to circle each other, lunging and parrying, until the cross guards of our blades met; I was in the throes of uttering another spontaneous charm to freeze him to the stones, but the force coming from him slung me back and away. My hand tingled from the jar of clashing steel and I bit my tongue, my charm dissolving. I stumbled but Phelan caught me, ushering me behind him while I regained my balance.

I watched as he engaged Knox in a fraught spar, eager to rejoin the fight.

A new spell was rising within me like a song. I took a step forward and winced when I felt a sudden blaze of pain. My belly stung with the movement, and I glanced down to see the bottom half of my bodice hung open, its ribbon laces sliced into dangling shreds. I laid my hand over the torn fabric and felt something warm and sticky. My blood, I realized with a pang of shock, staring at its red stain on my palm. Knox’s rapier must have grazed me, but the cut wasn’t deep, to my immense relief. Although a few inches deeper and he might have given me a mortal blow.

I returned my focus to Phelan, sparks blazing along his rapier as he continued to fight. Knox wasn’t slowing or wearying; he was like a storm, gathering strength, pushing us closer and closer to the dais and the throne. And when he nearly cut Phelan in half, I cast another charm to slow him down. As soon as Knox felt my enchantment hinder him, his face snapped toward me, furious. I met his gaze as steadily as I could, even as it intimidated me. Within his eyes, gold shone like two coins catching the light.

“His eyes,” I said to Phelan, my voice ragged. The gold in his eyes had become a film, preventing him from seeing through the veil of his greed. “The dream’s weakness is his eyes.”

Phelan heard. He had to lurch back to avoid being skewered by Knox’s blade, but the momentum swung around in his favor. He aimed and thrust the point of his rapier into Knox’s left eye, and the gold that covered his pupil burst and ran down his face like ichor.

Knox went still and then gasped—his moment of realization—before falling to the ground in the puddle of his wife’s blood.

Phelan withdrew his blade, watching the nightmare reach its harrowing end.