No wonder he’d issued me all of those puzzling invitations across the weeks since then! Now I knew exactly why he’d wanted me here. It had nothing to do with Sebastian Netherpool at all. He’d already proven himself in that competition. In fact, he’d apparently proven himself to everyone in this ballroom except for me.

…Which was why I crossed my arms before my armored chest, raised my eyebrows and waited in silent, rising fury as a tall, spindly necromancer with hip-length white hair, long, yellow nails, and a creaking, ancient voice recited the official countdown to the duel.

“Ten…nine…sputter…eight…cough, seven…ahem…six…fi—watch out!”

Half the crowd echoed his warning, but it was too late. Three undead minions had already erupted from the crowd of onlookers just behind Leander. Their long, sharp teeth were unnaturally extended and their eyes glowed red as they flung themselves towards the back of his neck before the duel had even begun…

And I stood as still as Leander himself, who only smiled slightly as he spoke a single word.

Power rumbled underneath the ballroom and shook apart half of its tiled floor like a tiny, localized earthquake. Skeletal hands burst through the cracks directly around Netherpool’s big figure, grasping his legs and the purple tail of his coat and pulling him inexorably down as he shouted and cursed and lost his balance…

And the minions who had been meant to attack Leander raced forward, under a new command, to attack their former master instead.

As applause roared through the watching crowd, I waited, conducting an ice-cold mental countdown of my own. The duel was officially declared over; the skeletons were released to sink back down into their long slumber underground; Netherpool fled, stumbling and staggering, through the crowd, leaving his three long-toothed minions abandoned behind him; and then, at last, Leander turned to look at me, raising one perfect eyebrow in inquiry.

“Now,” I whispered.

Every one of the hundreds of thin metal layers on my gown detached itself, expanded to three times its size, flicked out hidden iron wings and flew. Cries and gasps filled the room as a sudden shower of undead-repellant iron filled the air between me and Leander—then widened and multiplied, again and again in a flurry of magical recreation, until enough iron-lined metal sheets had finally appeared to build a quartet of narrow walls that framed the two of us to perfection.

I waited until it was complete, and then I yanked a full handful of butterfly clips from my short hair and tossed them upwards. Wings beating gleefully, they darted back and forth through the air, guarding the open top of our private room and ready to alert me to any signs of danger. The bee pendant from my necklace took flight just behind them, buzzing and ready with its long iron stinger to attack any attempted spies.