Now that I considered it, we had exchanged more words in the past half hour than we had since the last time we visited town.
“So we’re just to walk about the art district looking like ancient knights?”
He shrugged, which made the metal plates of his shoulder pads clank. “I figure if anyone won’t think it odd, it would be the artists.”
As I glanced around in embarrassment, I realized he was probably right about that. Most of the artists paid us no attention, and I remembered that it was common for traveling performers to spend most of their time in the city in the artists’ quarter. We probably just looked like a couple of traveling pre-faeistic reenactors.
When we rounded the corner and found ourselves back at the cottage that Evander had renovated into my glass shop, I froze.
“What are we doing here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I just felt like picking a fight and reliving the moment when you helped me realize what a miscreant I am.” He extended an armored hand and nodded his head toward the door. Which ended up looking more like a twitch, given the lack of mobility afforded by his helmet. “Just give me a chance, will you?”
I sighed and took his hand, our metal gauntlets scraping as I did.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. Maybe that Evander had removed the host of glass objects that made me feel so inadequate. Like someone else had taken my dream and run with it, equipped with a thousand times more talent than I could have ever hoped to accomplish in my limited mortal lifespan.
But when we walked in, nothing had been touched. Nothing had been rearranged. Nothing had moved.
“Evander, I’m sorry how I spoke to you when I was upset, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I am upset.”
“Exactly.” His green eyes flashed. He drew the sword at his left side and turned it so that the hilt faced me. “Take it.”
Confused, I did as he said, though I had to curl both hands around the hilt to support the weight of the hefty blade.
He brandished his second sword, then gestured toward the table in front of us, which held a delicately arranged set of glass teacups. “Ladies first.”
“What are you—” But then it hit me, why Evander had brought me here. “You want me to swing this sword at them?”
He grinned, and though the sword grew heavy in my already sore fingertips, something like elation filled my bones. “Won’t the artists be upset that we destroyed all their work?”
Evander laughed. “If they want to wipe their tears with the gold-leafed linens these bought them, they’re free to do so. I went back and paid them extra for the emotional damage of it, and none of them seemed to mind once they saw the sum of my tip.”
My jaw dropped. But then my back went rigid. “This feels petty.”
“Exactly,” he said. “That’s the fun of it.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that—”
“Ellie.” Evander stepped so close the metal of his chest plate scraped against mine. “Please, for the love of all things pleasurable, just shut up for half a second and let yourself have some fun.”
It was enough to spur me into action. I gritted my teeth. I’d show him fun. In fact, I lifted the sword so swiftly, he had to launch himself backwards to get out of my way.
Time sped up, and my blade with it. The edge of the sword hit the first teacup with a crash before slicing through the rest, sending teacups and plates and saucers soaring through the air, splintering in the candlelight. It looked as though stardust was blazing through the air.
I huffed, clutching my sore torso as I glanced at my feet. Shards of glass littered the floor, and my heart was pounding.
“You see why I had us wear the armor?” Evander laughed. I turned back to him, and as he caught what must have been a look of savage delight on my face, he grinned. “My turn.”
In a whirl, he spun to his right. He was upon the farthest shelf before my eyes could track him. He swung his sword upward, sending splinters of wood and glass skyward, shooting through the upper shelves and splitting them in two. The shelves crashed all at once, pouring heaps of glassware down their slopes and onto Evander’s helmeted head.
When he looked back at me, he beamed, even as the glass formed heaps around him.
It went on like that, the both of us bursting through saucer after plate after cup after perfectly formed dragon. Glass mermaids ricocheted off marble counters. Miniature ships, so detailed a sprite could have taken up residence within them, sailed through the air before slamming into the ground and shattering across the floor.
My hands started shaking and trembling as they went numb from clutching the heavy sword. It clattered to the ground, and Evander looked at me from the middle of a pile of glass ash, a questioning look on his face, as if to ask if it was time to stop.
But it wasn’t time. Not yet.
I lifted my hand and dropped my metal visor into place. Then I picked up a warped glass ball and chucked it right at him. A wicked grin spread across his face, but it was quickly hidden as he dropped his visor, too. He ducked, and the glass exploded on the wall behind him. A moment later, he hurled a replica of his father at my chest. The King of Dwellen broke his neck on my chest plate, though judging by the fact that it didn’t hurt, I imagined my assailant had held back on the strength of his throw.
We erupted into a very irresponsible, much more fun version of a snowball fight, at the end of which we had both fallen to the ground laughing.
I tried to roll over in my suit to face him, but with all the giggles and gasping for air, I could barely move against its weight. Besides, my core hadn’t regained its strength since the attack, and every muscle in my gut was on fire.
“Evander, Evan…I can’t…I can’t…” My laughter kept me gasping for breath and I couldn’t get the words out. Crap, it hurt to laugh. His laughter rang on too, though it grew louder as he crawled toward me through the sea of shattered glass.
When he reached me on his hands and knees, he rolled over and plopped the back of his head on my armored belly.
“Ow,” I complained, though I didn’t try to push him away.
He made to move off of me. “I’m sorry, I forgot you’re still hurt—”
I shoved his head right back down. “No, it’s fine. Your head can act like a weight. Help me get my strength up.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how it works, but okay.”
We stayed like that until the laughter died down into subdued giggles.
