A shiver crawled up her spine. Is that what is sleeping in the room across from mine? “What makes them dark? Are they more evil?”

“No. It’s just how the universe keeps magic in balance, with equal amounts of light and dark magic, like day and night. Only the fae are neutral. What you need to know is that you can kill shadow demons with certain weapons—especially those made with iron. They must be charmed with the right spells.”

She suppressed a shudder, thinking of the sleeping man upstairs, and the ancient magic that coiled off him in electrifying midnight tendrils. “And some of these shadow demons might be after me tonight?”

“Perhaps. And that’s why you need to learn to fight them.” He pulled a small glass jar full of amber liquid from his pocket, then a handkerchief. He poured some of the oil onto the cloth. “I’m going to anoint your sword with Zornhau’s oil. It’s a salve that protects a blade from damage. Also prevents you from seriously injuring your opponent—limits the chance of an accidental coup de main considerably.”

He held out his hand for the sword, and Ursula handed him the hilt. Kester rubbed the blade with the cloth, holding Honjo with a casual confidence that told Ursula that he was an experienced swordsman. Once the katana glistened with gold, he handed it back to her. “Just remember to clean the sword thoroughly when we’re done. The steel is useless with the oil on it.”

Backing into the center of the room, he drew his own sword from the sheath at his waist. It was the same blade Ursula had used at her battle with the Moor fiend, already glistening with amber oil. “Are you ready?”

Ursula gripped the Katana, planting her feet in a fighting stance. “Whenever you are.”

Kester lunged, his sword striking hers like the fang of a venomous serpent. Ursula deflected his blade with a deft parry, but he stepped back before she could counter. She danced closer, looking for an opening, but he sidestepped, staying just out of range. Their swords clashed, though Kester didn’t break a sweat.

He pushed in, striking. “I spoke with Zee about your encounter with Hugo.”

“Oh?” Apparently Kester was planning on incorporating a bit of chit-chat into their bout.

“She told me you argued with him about bathing suits.” His tone was somewhere between a joke and an accusation. She slashed at him, but he parried easily. He was trying to throw her off her game by bringing this up now.

“Yes, Hugo was saying that he broke up with his girlfriend because—”