20. Margo

20

MARGO

F aery wasn't quite what Margo was expecting.

Besides being very bright and rather technicolor, it also seemed rather…flimsy.

It was like walking through a movie set; everything looked very grand and impressive from one angle, but when she stepped to the side, it was suddenly flat, and metaphorically propped up with wooden braces from behind.

"It's all illusions," Bruno said, when the flower he plucked and tried to give to Margo turned into little dancing motes of light that floated away.

Margo tried to catch the little particles before they escaped, and they slipped through her fingers with the sound of giggles.

Their travel was discontinuous. A valley would stretch out before them for miles, but it could be simply crossed with a few firm strides. Jagged peaks of ice rose before them, but melted away into lace arches and bowers of flowers.

Even with their long legs, Margo and Bruno had to half-jog to keep up with the clanking empty armor, and it wasn't long until they were entering a forest grotto hung in chiming silver bells and riotous green vines. Figures were milling in the sweet-shadowed underbrush, eclectic and as varied as the shifting landscapes. Most of them had wings, but they were all sorts of wings; leathery batwings, feathered like a bird, or translucent like an insect. Some of them seemed made entirely of light and Margo thought one was simply vibrating air. They came in all sizes, some with knees at eye-level and some barely a handspan tall.

"Eva!"

Margo had been watching her feet, because there were tiny fairies at the edges of the lawn that she didn't wish to step on, and she looked up to see Eva sitting at the feet of the Queen of Faery on a dais, dressed in a gossamer tunic that didn't suit her at all.

Relief flooded her, because Eva looked whole and hale, then rage rose up in her like a storm. There was a golden shackle on one slim ankle, and a fine chain that ran to the Queen's wrist.

She grabbed for Bruno's arm before the cave bear shifter could surge forward and try to take Eva by force, recognizing the delicate magic and the even more delicate balance of power.

"We're in her court," she hissed. "Be careful what you say ."

"Welcome!" the Queen called, as they stepped into the dancing forest shadows. "Tell me, mortals, how did you find your way to Faery without an invitation?"

Margo shushed Bruno with a hand on his arm. "Your majesty, we came in search of our mate." It wasn't exactly an answer to her question, but she didn't want to volunteer more than she had to .

This invited a murmur of speculation from their diverse audience.

"Hmm," the Queen said, stroking the chain that she held loosely in her hands. "And you come to challenge my champion for her?"

"You choose the place, I choose our weapons," Margo confirmed, casting her eye over the warriors who flanked the Queen. There was an armored centaur, a scaled lizard in spiked leather, and a gargoyle-like man made of stone muscle who wore nothing at all.

The Queen's confidence was unsettling. "Indeed."

Margo knew her limits. Her fighting prowess was considerable, but only because of her size and strength. These were each more than a fair match for her and probably had better training in skirmish. She had a chance. But not a good one.

"I agree," Margo said, ignoring Bruno's growl beside her. "Don't interfere," she whispered aside. "It has to play out according to the rules ." His hand in hers tightened, but he didn't stop her.

The Queen made a show of selecting her champion, walking slowly down her line, stroking muscles and drawing her finger along the sharp edges of their weapons. Eva's chain dangled beside her, expanding as the distance between them grew. Eva clung to the side of the throne but made no move to try to approach them. Her eyes were little gems of hope and Margo prayed that she would not let her mate down with this desperate gamble.

The Queen finally snapped her fingers to the gargoyle, who lumbered forward and bowed to her. He had stone wings at his back that looked functional, and carved fur that kept his naked lower half company-respectable. His beast-like face was framed in large ears and wicked claws flexed on his dexterous hands. "I will champion you," he hissed in a guttural voice.

"See that you do," she said, turning back to Margo. "This place will serve as a battlefield. Choose your weapon." She gestured to a rack of sharp spears and curved swords.

"I choose riddles," Margo said firmly.

There was silence in the court and all of the amusement faded from the Queen's face. "What do you mean?"

Margo picked her words with extraordinary care. "I choose a battle of cleverness. Faery prides itself on playing fair and swears by the Code. Prove it."

"You want to make it a battle of wits ? With me ?"

"Not you, your majesty. Your champion."

The audience murmured in interest. The gargoyle had clearly been chosen for his physical prowess, and Margo's brute strength had been her most obvious bid for championship. In a battle of might, either of one of them might prevail.

"And who do you suggest will mediate this duel of riddles ?" The Queen's disgust was as clear as her doubt of Margo's intelligence.

Margo had already considered this question. "I propose a jury of peers. Let a panel of your subjects choose the winner."

"Do you believe you would receive impartiality from people who call me their queen?"

"Will you command it from them?" Margo countered.

The court was absolutely silent and for a moment, Margo feared that her gambit would fail before it began.

"One more thing," Margo said. "No magical influence. No spells or enchantments or illusions. Make it a fair battle."

There was a flicker in the Queen's eyes, just a hint of something behind her icy gaze. Margo wouldn't have recognized it if she didn't know her own stony face so well. Was she angry that Margo had imposed a handicap…or did she regret her treatment of Eva?

"No magical influence," the Queen agreed quietly. She loftily added, "I won't need it."

"Wait!" the gargoyle growled, chilling Margo's swell of hope. "No riddles requiring obscure human knowledge. It should be an honest contest."

"An honest match," Margo agreed. "The committee shall determine if a riddle is unfair."

"I look forward to a good challenge," the gargoyle said, his stone face curving up into a smile.

Margo didn't like the glint in his eyes, and she found herself wondering if she'd just made a terrible mistake.