Frustration in a fight can lead to four things: You give up, you fight harder, you fight worse, or you cheat. Scaramouche was Harlequin; they didn’t give up. He fought harder, but when that didn’t get him past Nicky’s guard, his arm swung a little too wide. Nicky landed a fist on the exposed ribs.

   I felt the warm rush of power, and for the first time, it was my inner rat that responded to the energy as Scaramouche lashed out. Nicky rocked back and his cheek was bleeding, but Scaramouche hadn’t hit him. I’d have seen that.

   Jake was between them, moving so fast, it was as if he’d just appeared to separate them.

   “No claws—you know that, Scaramouche.”

   I saw the claws curling from the fingers of his gloves now; both hands had sprouted claws, which meant he was powerful enough to shift just that much and no more. Micah could do it, but he was Nimir-Raj; Nicky couldn’t do it, and he was Rex. Nicky touched fingertips to the small cuts on his face. He’d kept the claws from doing much more than touching his skin.

   Jake started to stop the fight, but Nicky said, “Let’s do this.”

   “No claws, no shifting,” Jake said.

   “Only because the Rex is not powerful enough to do a partial shift.”

   “And you aren’t good enough to beat me without shifting,” Nicky said.

   Scaramouche made a low evil sound that I think was a rat equivalent of a growl, because again a small, dark-furred shape inside me reacted to his beast. Rafael had shared his beast on purpose with me, but it was still new.

   “I can defeat you without changing form.”

   “Prove it,” Nicky said.

   Jake made the wererat show his hands, making sure his fingers were just human digits again.

   “Are you certain you both want to do this?” Jake asked.

   “Oh yeah,” Nicky said.

   “Very much so,” Scaramouche said.

   “If you bring out your beast again, I will finish the fight in Nicky’s place. Is that clear, Scaramouche?”

   The wererat’s eyes widened a little, but he bounced in place to loosen his body up and said, “I will defeat the lion fairly.”

   “Scaramouche,” Pierette said, but he ignored her as if she had not spoken.

   Nicky did his own bounce. Jake stepped back and said, “Fight.”

   They took Jake at his word; even blocking the punches and kicks had force to it. They both made harsh involuntary noises, but there was none of the yelling that they teach you in some martial arts classes. Yelling when you didn’t have to was for show. The two men weren’t putting on a display. This was a fight, a real fight. Only their combined skill kept it from being even more violent because neither was able to get through the other’s guard. They were both so fast, I couldn’t follow all of it.

   Nicky’s fist came through all Scaramouche’s punches and caught him in the mouth. It staggered the wererat, and I saw blood. Nicky followed it up with a hook to the ribs that he blocked, but Nicky landed a knee to the other man’s thigh. Scaramouche covered up as much of himself as he could as Nicky blew into him, raining punches, kicks, and elbows down on him.

   People were looking at Jake to step in and call it, but he didn’t.

   Scaramouche came up under everything that Nicky was throwing at him and hit him with an uppercut right on the chin. He’d taken the damage until Nicky got carried away and gave an opening, and then he’d gone for it. It staggered Nicky and rang his bell hard. If it had been a real UFC fight they might have called a knockout, because his one blue eye was not focusing. He was still standing.

   Scaramouche came up and around with a roundhouse kick aimed at the side of Nicky’s head. Nathaniel’s hand squeezed mine tight. Sin gasped. Nicky’s hand was there just in time to keep the kick from connecting and to grab the leg and get a joint lock on the knee. Scaramouche dropped to the ground trying to unbalance Nicky, but the werelion had more mass and stayed firm. Scaramouche ended up with his hands on the mat as he swung his other long leg up in a kick for Nicky’s face. Nicky didn’t try to block it; he finished the joint lock. I heard the wet, meaty pop. Scaramouche screamed, even as his kick bloodied Nicky’s mouth.

   Jake stepped in then and stopped the fight. He helped Nicky lay Scaramouche on the mat. His leg was bent in a way that legs aren’t meant to bend. Scaramouche was trying not to writhe in agony. He looked green with pain and was probably trying not to throw up.

   Pierette knelt beside him. Hortensio stood glaring at Jake and Nicky. “What was that supposed to be?”

   “That was not sparring,” Pierette said from where she knelt.

   “No, it was a lesson,” Jake said, and his voice was as cold and threatening as I’d ever heard it.

   “A lesson about what?” she demanded, holding Scaramouche’s hand.

   “That the Harlequin must learn to respect our new comrades in arms,” he said.

   Scaramouche’s voice was strained with pain. “They have not spent centuries earning our respect.”

   Nicky took out his bloody mouth guard and said, “I’m fine with earning your respect by beating the shit out of you.”

   “You are not king over me, lion,” he said between gritted teeth.

   I’d walked out on the mat with Nathaniel shadowing me, though I’d made him drop my hand. Tempers were high, and I wanted both my hands free just in case. Magda and Sin were at my back. I wasn’t sure how much help Sin would be, but the lioness at my back would make them think twice before doing something stupid in our direction. I’d have liked to think that I’d give them pause, but I knew better. Most of them considered me a poor substitute for their lost queen; no matter what my title was, I was just not good enough for some of the Harlequin.

   “How about me? I’m supposed to be your queen,” I said.

   “You are Jean-Claude’s fiancée, but you are not a vampire. How can you rule us as one?”

   “Anita is Nimir-Ra, to the wereleopards, too,” Nathaniel said. “She is Queen to Micah’s Nimir-Raj.”

   “She does not shift into leopard form; I will not acknowledge a Nimir-Ra who is trapped in human form,” Pierette said.

   “She may not change shape, but she is still a necromancer and our new dark queen,” Jake said.

   “No. No, she is not. She is not our dark mistress. It was luck that allowed her to drink down the power that was ours, and now she has given it to him.” She pointed a dramatic finger at Nicky.

   “Not just him,” Magda said, in a low voice.

   “No, all the Harlequin that sleep with you and Jean-Claude have kept their powers, or regained them,” Pierette said.