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.”
I inwardly groan. Walker told me about this before. The Earl of Acca runs the most powerful House in Antrum. Now he wants the throne too, which in his mind means Lincoln marrying Adair. Reason number 439 why this relationship is probably doomed.
Kamal snaps his fingers, a falcon swoops from the rafters to land on his shoulder. I stifle a gasp, but Lincoln and the Earls barely notice the animal. I guess the House of Kamal must do stuff like this all the time. “Take my advice.” Kamal runs his pinky down the falcon’s head. “Give Acca what he wants.”
Lincoln chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Really? Is that what he wants this week? You’ve seen what happened with my father. Give in once and there’s no end.” He gestures between the two men. “We all know what’s happening here. Acca sees my father as toothless, so now he’s coming after my canines.” He slams his fist into his hand. “I must stand my ground or I no longer deserve my crown.”
His phrase, ‘stand my ground,’ echoes happily around my brain. That means he won’t marry Adair. My mouth winds into a smile. Whatever happens, at least he’ll never end up with that loser.
Lincoln stares coolly at the two Earls. “You speak of the great houses. But are they the only ones in Antrum? The Houses Gurith, Zerihun, and Alura are all loyal to the King, perhaps many more.”
I remember reading about this in a Ryder library book. Thrax live deep underground. Lands below the old world—Europe, Australasia, Africa—are all ruled by Rixa. There are five major houses and hundreds of lesser ones. All follow the King’s law but pretty much run their own show. Excitement strums in my chest. Lincoln plans to unite the lesser Houses and create one great army to fight Acca. I steal a glance at his mismatched eyes and smile. If anyone can do it, he can.
Horus points at Lincoln, the hint of a smile on his wide mouth. “You’re a crafty one, I’ll grant you. So much like Octavia.”
Lincoln nods. “We return to Antrum tomorrow. I’ll reach out to the lesser Houses the moment I return.” He gestures from Kamal to Horus. “Don’t forget why you signed this Alliance in the first place. Once Acca takes down my House, he’ll come for you next. All I’m asking for is a little time.”
Kamal frowns. “And your father supports this? Word is he bows lower to Acca each day.”
Lincoln’s upper lip curls. “Have you ever seen me bow?”
Kamal steps to the Prince’s side. “No, my Prince. Never.”
“Nor will you.” Lincoln’s gaze shifts between the Earls. “We leave for Antrum tomorrow. There’s much work to do. If you’ll excuse me.” He motions to the exit.
The Earls pause, share a long look, and then nod. Lincoln opens the door. He’s only a few inches away from me now, but so are the Earls.
Yipes.
Kamal steps toward the exit; then he stops at the threshold. My heart thuds so loud, I’m sure they can hear it. “I’ll give you a month. I can risk no more with Acca.”