The King rubs his chin, hiding a smile. “Perhaps if you set your hands like this?” He raises his arms to chest height, palms extended.
“Oh yeah.” I set my hands to match the King’s. Lincoln’s face is the model of calm as he balances the sword between my open palms. I let out a sigh. This nightmare of a morning is almost over. Then, Prince’s fingertips brush the skin between my gloves and sleeves. Where our bare skin touches, I feel an electric pulse of pleasure.
What. The. Hell.
I quickly pull my hands away, curling the sword against my chest. “Thank you.” I quickly glance into Lincoln’s face, seeing his fa?ade of calm crack for a moment, revealing a look that mixes shock and desire.
So, he felt the connection too, but he still thinks I’m a disgusting demon. Great. My face burns with anger and humiliation.
The King and Prince bow slightly, then walk away. It takes forever for them to stride across the Arena floor. I pass the time picturing ways to kick Lincoln in the back of the head.
The next few minutes are a blur of marching heralds, blaring trumpets, and smiling courtiers. At some point, Walker pulls me into the safety and shadows of a nearby archway. His voice is low and gentle. “Are you ready to portal home, Myla?”
My eyes burn with feelings I don’t know how to name. “Walker, I was ready an hour ago.” I’m seconds away from bursting into tears. Some warrior.
“Don’t take it personally, Myla. Most thrax have never met a quasi. They don’t understand that you’re not a demon.”
“That didn’t bother me.” My voice breaks so much, I sound like I could be yodeling. Crap, I hate it when I do that. “Okay, that totally hurt like Hell.”
Walker wraps me into a hug. His body is warm and firm, not at all the chilly undeadly-ness that I expected. “Do you want me to beat him up for you?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Not this time, Walker.” My head melts into his shoulder. “Thanks for offering, though.”
“Any time.”
Chapter Seven
With all the extra ceremonial blah-blah-blah at the match, I don’t get to school until lunch is almost over. I quickly fill my tray and scan the cafeteria, looking for my–and Cissy’s–favorite table for two. I quickly find it, but now it seats three.
Zeke has moved in. Resentment twists in my belly. Zeke gets all of Cissy’s attention after school, and I have to listen to her yammer about him non-stop during the day. Lunch is the last scrap of girl-time left in my life.
Gritting my teeth, I step up to the table and wait for some acknowledgement of my existence from Cissy and Zeke. It doesn’t happen.
“Do you want any more, Zekie?” Cissy holds a French fry in one hand. I’m pretty sure she’s been hand-feeding him. Gross.
“No thanks, honey bunches.” Zeke pats his stomach. “Have to stay in shape.” They share an Eskimo kiss (aka rub noses), and then I’ve had enough.
“Hello, there!” Forcing a smile, I give my lunch tray a little shake. “Any room for a third?”
“Myla!” Cissy twists in her chair. “Where have you been?”
“Another Arena match.” I slide into an empty chair, grab a fork and dive into my monster-sized salad.
“That’s a lot of fighting lately.” Zeke rubs his dimpled chin. “Anything special going on?”
I freeze, my fork half-way to my mouth. How much should I say?
Cissy smiles sweetly. “You know you can tell us anything.”
I glance at their eager faces. Maybe Cissy’s right. These are my friends; I should trust them. Plus, it’s been a long time since the whole ‘Myla is obsessed with Zeke’ thing happened. They’ve probably forgotten all about it.
Dropping my fork, I take a deep breath and start babbling. “At Zeke’s party I met a thrax guy who insulted quasis and said Cissy looked like a dog in heat, so I’m not gonna dance with that! But today at the match, he turned out to be the crowned Prince of the thrax. He gave me a sword, but then he said I wouldn’t last against a real demon hunter.” I slam the tabletop with both hands. “Hells bells, I want to knock his block off.” And maybe kiss him a little bit, but I’m not telling them that. I let out a low whistle. “Honestly, what am I worrying about anyway? I’ll probably never see him again, right?”
There’s a long pause where Cissy and Zeke stare at me; their eyes ready to pop out of their heads. They both burst into peals of laughter.
So much for telling the truth. I set my face into my palms and moan. It’s been that depressing of a day.
“Come on, Myla. Be serious.” Cissy wipes a tear from her cheek, her tail wagging up a storm behind her.
“If you’re not ready to confide in us, it’s fine.” Zeke hides his smile under one hand. “We get it.”