“So, you admit you raided the thrax compound without authorization?”
I tap my cheek. “So, you admit that a lowly quasi girl successfully raided your super-awesome demon-hunter compound?”
“Your actions were rude and startling. The Lords were not prepared.”
I sniff. “They were wearing chain mail, carrying weapons, and in the middle of battle training. I call that a fair fight.”
He shakes his head from side to side. “My men don’t expect strange girls in unitards to appear out of nowhere.”
I raise my pointer finger. “One, it’s a dragon-scale fighting suit, not a unitard.” I raise another digit. “Two, what exactly do they expect girls to do when they’re attacked? Half the best Arena fighters are women.”
“That’s not how it is in Antrum.”
“What’s an Antrum?”
“Where I live, where all thrax live. Back on Earth, deep underground.”
“That makes sense. Not knowing girls fight; it figures you all live under a rock.”
Closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath. “No one speaks to me like that.” A muscle twitches along his jaw.
My eyes narrow. He’s not the only one who doesn’t like back-talk. “Welcome to Purgatory.”
“The Earls demand you attend a tournament of demon fighting prowess to celebrate the autumnal equinox. As senior members of the thrax nobility, they will battle on the field of honor.”
“Humph.” No way am I joining that sausage party. They can prove their manliness on their own time. “Sounds like a ‘we’ll show her’ kind of thing.”
“The Lords have a right to display their skills under traditional circumstances.”
“Well, there’s one thing they need to do first.”
Lincoln folds his arms over his chest. “And what’s that, in your experience?”
“Say. Please.”
The Prince rakes one hand through his brown hair. “Disrespectful.”
He thinks I’m disrespectful? “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”
Lincoln inhales slowly, his fists open and close. Turning on his heel, he stomps away. Leaning back in my perch, I lace my fingers over my belly and watch him retreat. He’s got a strong back, long arms roped with muscle, and a bottom half that does justice to those black leather pants. Though the front side of him is pretty tasty, too. His mouth, I must say, is particularly yummy-looking.
Whoa there. I should not stare lustily at snobby Princes. Come to think of it, since when do I stare lustily at guys, period? I shake out my hands and shift my head from side to side. That fight threw me out of whack, big time.
I hop to my feet, a broad grin rounding my mouth. That fight threw me out of whack because I WON. I’m so proud of my bad-self, I almost dance out of the library and down the steps, mentally replaying every word of my verbal ass-whooping. I reach the reception hall and freeze.
Cissy and Zeke stand by the front door and, dang, they look mighty peeved. Again.
Cissy sets her fists on her hips. “The thrax High Prince just left his meeting with the Ghoul Minister. He was not happy.”
I put on my innocent face and blink. “What makes you say that?”
Cissy frowns. “He just blew past us.”
Zeke points to the West Wing. “And the diplomatic conference room is right below the library. What do you say about that?”
“I say that’s sure strange.” I shrug. “That Prince is pretty temperamental for a demon hunter, huh?”
Zeke folds his arms over his chest. “Did you two fight again?”
“Fight?” I scratch my neck. “We never fight.” Technically. We yell at each other a lot, though.
Cissy turns to Zeke. “Can you give us some girl-time? Myla and I need to talk.”
Zeke glares at me for a full minute. “Sure.”
Cissy opens the reception hall’s back door and gestures to the hedgerow maze behind the mansion. “This way, Myla.”
I walk through the doorway and onto the yellowing grass. Cissy follows me, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The muscles along my jaw tighten with determination. I will not feel guilty this time around. She and Zeke totally ambushed me.
Cissy spins around to face me. “Spill it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s me here.” Cissy rolls her eyes. “You’re not leaving this spot until I get some information. I know you two fought. Honestly, you’re causing like, huge inter-realm incidents here.”
I let out a dramatic gasp. “Come on! Who sent the Prince of Pissed my way with no warning? What did you think would happen?”
Cissy stares at her toes for a minute. “That was Zeke’s idea. I told him it wouldn’t work.”
“Well, it didn’t.” Leave it to Zeke to come up with a lame plan like that one.
Cissy sighs. “So, what exactly did happen?”
I puff out a breath. “The Prince demands I attend a tournament so his steak-head Earls can show me how awesome they are.”
“And you said?”
“I said they had to say ‘please.’” I fold my arms over my chest. I’m totally in the right here; no way am I backing down.