“Who is this?” I whispered to Phelan as we continued to walk backward, our eyes trained on the knight.

“I don’t know. But he’s the one who wounded me, months ago.”

“You fought him?”

“Yes. Weapons are useless against him, as are any offensive spells.”

I didn’t quite believe Phelan, and I cast a disarming spell on the knight. My magic hissed into smoke when it met his breastplate, and he continued following us, undeterred. I tried again, desperate, to no avail.

“Save your magic, Miss Neven,” Phelan said dryly.

“He must have a weakness.” I studied the knight’s armor. “He can’t be wholly invincible.”

Phelan was quiet, but then he said, “There are two of us and one of him. I will slip behind while you engage him.”

I nodded and threw a blast of light at the knight’s feet, to cover Phelan’s movements. But it was futile; the knight sensed Phelan’s presence and turned with him, swinging his sword. Phelan ducked and rolled, barely missing the edge of the blade, and I surged forward, anger smoldering within me. I roused that fire and funneled it, and my magic streamed toward the knight, striking him in the spine and limning his armor as if he had been electrified by lightning. He hesitated, and I took that moment to study the plates of steel and chain mail, searching for a golden scale or link that I could puncture and usher his demise. There was nothing, and he pivoted so swiftly he took me by surprise.

I lurched back in response and saw his sword arcing for me. Everything suddenly slowed. My motions, my breath, my heart. A warning prickled at the nape of my neck, and this horrible encounter felt strangely peaceful. This moment before death. This moment before the knight beheaded me.

I felt a hand on my ankle, a warm hand that pulsed with both life and terror. It yanked me so hard that I went down on the flagstones with a jar, my rapier tumbling from my hand. The knight’s sword whistled harmlessly above me.

Phelan, I thought, dazed from hitting the ground. His magic clung to my ankle and he pulled me quickly to his side, over the stones.

I scrambled to my feet, swallowing the tang of iron, and I wiped the blood from my lip and watched as Phelan resorted to his rapier. The knight’s blade broke Phelan’s like it was made of glass.

Phelan stumbled back, but his opponent followed. I roused my magic just as the tip of the sword caught the front of Phelan’s waistcoat. I heard the fabric rip, heard his grunt of pain, and he was hurled up and away as if he had been struck by a giant’s hand.