“You better tell him about the…” He points to the general area of my eyes.
Rising to my feet, I hunch-walk toward my bedroom. “I’m not doing anything until I’ve had a nap.” I let out a puff of air. What a bitch of a morning.
Mom folds her arms over her chest, a smile twinkling in her eyes. “I’ll call school and tell them you’re sick.”
I loop the top of the blanket over my head. “Thanks, Mom.”
“And Myla?”
I take little shuffling steps to turn around and see her, the blanket still curled around my ears. “What, Mom?”
“I’m very proud of you.”
My face breaks out into a huge smile. I didn’t expect it’d feel that good to hear her say those words. “Thanks, Mom. I’m proud of you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sometime after lunch, Nightshade and I start the long ride to the thrax compound. Mom gave me a ghoul robe to wear; I’m careful to keep the hood drawn low to hide my eyes. As Night and I gallop along, a light drizzle falls over the browning trees and yellow grass. The clouds hang low and dark in the sky.
I sigh. The weather’s as gloomy as my mood. Walker was right. Lincoln and I have a lot stacked up against us, and that was before I became the Scala Heir. Now I’m off to who-knows-where so I can hide for no-one-knows-how-long. I can’t imagine this being good for our relationship.
Night and I soon cross the rolling hills to the open fields of thrax lands. I’m too nervous to enjoy the ride much. My thoughts keep turning over the realizations of the morning and how they probably spell doom and gloom for me and Lincoln. Night whinnies, breaking me out of my funk. I glance about, finding us stopped in front of the thrax feasting hall.
I lean forward and pat Night’s neck. “In here, girl?”
Night whinnies again.
“Thanks.” I slide off her back, step up to the hall’s door and pull on the wooden handle. It opens with a long creak. I step inside, finding everything to be quiet, empty, and dark. My stomach somersaults with nervous energy. How do I even begin to explain everything to Lincoln?
“Hello? Anybody in here?”
No response. In a corner, I hear the clickity-clack of mouse claws on the wooden floor. No one’s around. I stand by the feasting table, drumming my fingers on the rough wood. Anxiety spirals up my spine. The only thing worse than having to explain this to Lincoln? Having to hunt around the thrax compound first and find him. Maybe Nightshade made a mistake.
The door behind me slowly swings open. Adrenaline pumps into my bloodstream. Moving quickly, I pull my hood low over my face, steal across the room, and flatten myself against a stretch of wall by the door.
A column of light slices through the darkened feasting hall. Lincoln steps inside along with two older men.
My body relaxes a bit. Night was right.
The trio step into the darkened room; I adjust my hood for a better look at them. Lincoln wears his traditional leather pants, chain mail, and tunic. An older man stands beside him with ebony skin, long dread locks, and the crest of an Egyptian eye on his chest. Probably, the Earl of Horus. Next to him stands a man with cocoa skin, high cheekbones, and short gray hair. His tunic’s covered with the image of three blue claw-marks: the Earl of Kamal.
The door swings shut behind them, leaving the room in semi-darkness. Horus searches around the feasting table. “Curses, where are those blasted candles?”
“Never mind that,” says Lincoln. “You said your need was urgent.”
Kamal is the first to speak, his voice a rich baritone under a clipped accent. “We heard the House of Striga backed out of the Alliance.”
My brows arch. Alliance? What kind of Alliance?
Lincoln folds his arms across his chest. “Striga has some questions, but I still have their seal on the Alliance parchment. If they back out—if any of you back out—it will mean the King’s wrath.” His voice becomes a low rumble. “You gave your seal. You gave your word.”
I’ve never heard Lincoln get angry before, and I must admit I like him bossy. Desire starts pumping through my veins along with the adrenaline. The skin around my eyes heats up. Hells bells. My stupid inner lust demon’s about to get me caught. Closing my eyelids, I force myself to think about saying goodbye to Lincoln. After a few seconds, I calm down enough to pay attention to the conversation again.
The Earl of Horus waves his hand. “This Alliance isn’t worth the parchment it’s written on. Even with Horus, Kamal, Striga, and Rixa together, we don’t have enough strength of arms to face down the Earl of Acca.”