The royal fae’s gaggled of attendants were sent out by him and swept forth against the three Named, lords and ladies carved out of frenzied dreams and wielding powers outlandish, but the Mirror Knight and the Adjutant stood like tall stones as the tide washed around them. There could be no strategy to this, no cunning: it was only a parade of sneering faces and blades that Christophe must strike at, cutting when he could and forcing through their blows as if they were but summer rain.

...

Christophe swelled with anger, screaming, and tore his way through the Fair Folk to get to her side. The fae parted like mist wherever her struck, and though their strikes glanced off his sides and shield with barely any effort the Mirror Knight had never felt more impotent than in that moment.

- Book 6, Interlude: Set Them Up