Angelbound

I thunk my palm onto my forehead. “I forgot, you know each other too. How did that happen?” I smile. Story-telling time! Nice distraction.

Lincoln keeps staring at Walker and not saying anything. The temperature in the hallway becomes decidedly chilly. Something’s up.

Walker turns to me. “You remember how my great-grandmother was an archangel?”

I nod. “Mom told me about it ages ago.”

“She’s the archangel Aquila,” says Walker. “She also founded the House of Rixa. Lincoln and I are both members of the Aquilinea, a society for the descendants of Aquila.”

I chuckle. “I should start a society for the descendants of Xavier. It’ll give me something to do when I’m alone.” I look between Lincoln and Walker, waiting for a response. That wasn’t my best joke, but how about a courtesy laugh for the girl heading into an Arena death match? Speaking of that, my insides squirm with anxiety. The fight should start in a few minutes.

Walker’s face is still as stone. “Your mother forbade me to mention my personal history, so I’ve respected her wishes. Now, however, it’s time you knew about the Aquilinea.”

“Thanks.” My head bobs from side to side. “That explains why Octavia and Lincoln trusted you with their messages.” I picture the ghouls who sometimes accompany Verus to matches; I always thought some of them looked like Walker. Must be Aquilinea as well. I glance out to the Arena floor. Maybe I’ll see one of them out there today? The thought should be comforting, but it isn’t. Thinking about the stadium only ratchets up my nerves.

Lincoln barely moves as he speaks. “That explains you and me. How about you and Myla?”

I eye him closely. Oooooooh, I get it. The Prince is never an easy guy to read, but I get the definite feeling he’s ticked off about something or someone. The short list of options are Walker, Walker, and Walker. “You didn’t know that Walker knew me?”

Lincoln’s gaze stays locked on Walker. “Not beyond the few messages I gave him.”

A muscle flickers along Walker’s jawline. “I’m under an unbreakable oath. Myla’s mother must approve anything I say about her.”

“How about I act as proxy for my mother?” I twiddle my fingers in Walker’s direction. “I release thee from thy oath.” I want to hear how Walker ended up in my life too. Besides, the mega-tension in this hallway isn’t helping an already-anxious morning.

“That should work.” Lincoln’s eyes narrow. “Speak.”

Walker inhales a long breath. “Xavier was my instructor ages ago, in the Citadel. He became like a father to me. When he left Purgatory, he asked me to watch over Camilla. I took an unbreakable oath. When Myla was born, I watched over her too.”

Lincoln’s hands ball into fists. “So, Myla’s the mystery girl you’ve been visiting all these years?”

My brows jet upwards. Who knew I was a topic of conversation between Walker and Lincoln? For years, no less.

Walker juts out his chin. “Yes.”

My mouth rounds into an ‘o.’ It took my anxious brain a bit, but I finally get what’s going on here. I move to stand directly in front of the Prince, cupping his face in my hands. His day-old stubble tickles my palms as he stubbornly keeps glaring at Walker. “It’s not like that between us. Walker’s basically my brother.” I guide his eyes to look directly into mine.

Rage simmers behind the Prince’s features. “So, you two never?”

“Sha!” I roll my eyes. “I appreciate the jealousy, but we’re burning up valuable goodbye kiss time.”

Lincoln finally grins and leans in closer. We share a slow kiss. It’s sweet, intense, and over way too soon.

The Prince presses his forehead to mine. “Be safe.”

My tail musses his hair. “I will.” I kiss him one more time, just because I can.

I pull my mask over my face, suck in a deep breath, and turn to Walker. “Let’s do this.”

Walker turns to Lincoln, setting his fist on his chest. “Goodbye, Shield Brother.” I’m guessing this is a traditional farewell for the Aquilinea, but the way Walker says it, it’s more of a question: ‘are we okay?’

The Prince pauses, then moves his fist in the same motion. “Until we meet again.” The way Lincoln says the words, it’s an answer: ‘We’re good.’

Walker smiles. Together, we step out onto the Arena floor, heading toward a group of quasis clustered around Sharkie. All of them have long black tails with arrowhead ends.

Arena fighters. All part-Furor. The best in Purgatory.

The last time we were all gathered together, it was the Scala initiation. My forehead creases with questions.

“Walker, is there a ceremony today?”

“Not that I know of.”

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