Connor chuckles as well. “It’s not a memory I like to recall.” He wraps his hand around Octavia’s. “But after that moment, no one else would do. You see Myla, for the thrax, everything is about strength in battle.”
I shoot Lincoln a knowing glance. “I’ve noticed.” He starts another game of footsie with me under the table. I blush.
The King nods in my direction. “This, my dear, is why I’m willing to take a chance on you. You’ve some strength in you.” He leans back on his chair. “But I get ahead of myself. If you’re the Scala Heir, you need angel blood. Who’s your father then?”
Lincoln’s eyes positively twinkle. This would be his ‘I’m about to drop a bomb of good news’ face. “The archangel Xavier.”
I think the royal couple’s eyes almost blast out of their collective heads. The King lets out a low whistle. “You’re first-generation archangel, then.” He rubs his palms together. “And not just any archangel, Xavier!”
I frown, confused. “Why is first generation important?”
“More angel blood, more power,” says Lincoln. “The current Scala is fifth-generation common angel. I’m third-generation archangel. Father’s second. We descended from the archangel Aquila. Have you heard the story?”
“Yes, Mom told me how she founded the House of Rixa.”
Connor grins. “I’ve heard of the Archangel Xavier. Amazing warrior turned diplomat. Led the final battle to drive demons from Heaven.”
His words send an image into my mind’s eye: the King of Hell twisting my father’s broken arm. Pangs of grief and anger move through me.
Octavia’s eyes narrow. “But he disappeared after the Wars, I believe.”
I pick invisible lint off my robe. “I don’t want to talk about that.” I grit my teeth. Unholy moley. I sound exactly like Mom.
“Of course, of course.” Connor folds his arms over his chest. “Now, what are your plans exactly?”
“I have an Arena match tomorrow morning. Right after that, I go to a safe house until we hear from the angels.”
“I see.” The King drums his fingers on the tabletop, his face lost in thought. All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the tent zings with tension. Both Lincoln and Octavia look particularly unreadable, which means something big is definitely going on.
I roll my eyes. I’ve had enough staring-and-not-talking for one day. “You’re clearly debating something, Connor. What is it?”
He looks at me, his furry brows arching. “If you must know, it’s whether to endorse Lincoln’s plan to gather together the lesser houses.”
My mouth starts speaking on its own. “I’ll help him.”
The King lets out a puff of breath. “And how will you do that from hiding?”
“I’ll find a way.” I bow my head. “Strength in battle, your Highness. If the Earl doesn’t like it, I’ll pull some strings and send him to Hell.”
The King nods slowly. “I believe you’d do it, too.”
I snap my fingers. “In a heartbeat.”
“Fine, we’ll wait.” He points at Lincoln. “You’ve got a month, boy. Bring together the minor houses.” His face droops. “I’ll stall the Earl.”
Lincoln’s mouth curls into a satisfied smile. “Thank you, father.” He gives my hand an especially long squeeze. Warmth and love bloom in my chest. Together, Lincoln and I can do this. We can do anything.
Octavia taps the tabletop with one fingernail. “We have other matters to discuss.” She turns to me. “This match tomorrow morning. How will you compete without exposing your identity?”
“My fighting suit has a face-mask that hides my eyes.”
The thought of my fighting suit is somehow calming. That thing is so freaking awesome.
“Very good.” Octavia turns to her son. “And you’ll be there as well?”
“It’s not an official thrax event, but I’ll contact the minister. I’m sure I can watch from an archway.”
I turn to him with the biggest smile ever. “You’ll be there?”
He winks. “Nowhere else.”
I feel a weight lift from my body. Sweet.
Connor’s brow furrows. “Will you bring extra soldiers with you?”
Lincoln leans back in his chair. Our joined hands slide off the tabletop to swing casually between us. “No, that would only attract unnecessary attention.”
Octavia wags a finger at her son. “Be sure to wear full demon patrol gear: body armor, baculum, daggers…”
Lincoln nods. “I’ll be safe, Mother.”
I stifle a grin. Glad my Mom’s not the only one with an overprotective streak.
The King rubs his chin. “And stay with her tonight.”
Octavia gasps. “Connor!”
My jaw drops. “Whoa!” First, the King thinks I’m preggers. Then, he assumes Lincoln’s sleeping in my bed? I so want to clobber this guy, it isn’t funny. I may be part lust demon, but that doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Sheesh.
The King wags his head. “I mean in a separate room, but ready for trouble.”
I close my mouth into a scowl. So, I won’t clobber him. Maybe. My blood still boils with anger.