“That’s better.” I bow my head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of prep work to do for tonight.” I lean back in the saddle and twiddle my fingers at him.
He chuckles. “Have fun.”
“I will.” I pat Nightshade’s neck. “Girl, take me to–” She’s off at a run before I finish my sentence. As we speed across the countryside, I keep thinking one thing: this is going to be sweeeeeeet.
Chapter Sixteen
It’s dark by the time I return to the thrax compound. I settle Nightshade into her stall, then steal over to the mead hall, my evil cargo in tow: a cooler filled with the Reperio demons from my Biology class.
This is so awesome; I can’t stand myself.
I tiptoe up to a long wooden building with an arched roof. The only windows are two high vent-holes, one on either side of the building. I pause and adjust the collar on my fighting suit. Light flickers in through the window-holes. From inside the hall, the air echoes with the chatter of voices and clinking of silverware. Thrax are feasting inside.
Taking a deep breath, I position myself under one of the vent-holes. Using the thick outer planks, I scale up the building’s side and settle myself onto the window’s ledge. In front of me, the ceiling is filled with a network of heavy wooden beams.
I smile. It’ll be easy-peasy to crawl along the main beam.
I scan the hall below, careful to hide in the ceiling’s shadows. Two long wooden tables line the floor, both surrounded by thrax. The men wear crested tunics; the ladies are dressed in formal gowns of their house’s color. At the far end of the building, a minstrel sits beside a crackling fireplace, playing a soft tune on his lute. Servants bustle around, refilling wine glasses and plates. Mid-way along the far-right table, the King, Queen, and High Prince sit in throne-like chairs. Lincoln wears his black leather pants, silver chain mail, and black tunic.
The Earl of Acca rises to his feet. He runs his plump hand through his thinning red hair. “Perhaps the Scala Heir will honor us with a song?”
“Of course, Father.” Adair slides off her bench and walks over to the minstrel. She wears a long white cloak, just like the old Scala. The room grows quiet. “I know you’re all wondering what it’s like to be the Scala Heir.” She glances dramatically about. “Of course, it represents a massive power shift for the House of Acca.” She gestures to her father. He grins so hard his cheeks must hurt.
Adair folds her hands into her cloak’s long sleeves. “I’m now more than a thrax, maybe even more than a mortal.”
I roll my eyes. This is worse than the ‘can I feel your muscle-y muscles’ line. This girl needs a healthy dose of reality.
“Tonight, I wanted to share my personal Scala journey with you all.” Adair inhales a long breath and looks to the minstrel. “I’ve written a song to the tune of ‘Are you going to Scarborough Fair?’” She gestures to the lute player who plinks out a quiet melody. All faces are locked on Adair and her song.
Now’s my chance.
I creep along the dining room’s main ceiling beam, my evil cargo in hand.
Adair clears her throat, then sings with a warbling old-lady voice:
Who will worship the Scala Adair?
All the thrax if given the time
My powers are great, my face is so fair
Who won’t want the love that is mine?
She stares directly at Lincoln’s face when she sings the ‘love that is mine’ part. His features subtly twist into a ‘yikes’ face, a movement that makes him raise his eyes. He sees me and winks.
Warmth blooms through my chest; a smile curls my lips. Lincoln’s way different than I thought. Funny, handsome, sexy, and—let’s not forget my favorite attribute—able to hold his own and compete with me. Part of me wonders if I’m going too far, too fast, feeling things for a guy who I thought was a major jerk only a few days ago. Good thing another part of me takes the worrying part out back and kicks the shit out of it.
The lute player strums another few bars, then Adair sings again.
My powers are great, my face is so fair
Who won’t want the love that is miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine?
Lincoln glances in my direction and mouths the words ‘no way.’ I grin. A weight falls off my shoulders that I didn’t know I carried. I guess part of me was worried what it meant that Lincoln and Adair were angelbound. I’d hate to think of him as stuck with that dingbat forever.
Speaking of the dingbat…I smile, then mime showing off my arm muscle to Lincoln. I soundlessly move my lips while saying ‘Can I touch you?’
Lincoln scowls, his head shaking from side to side. Angling his forehead in my direction, he pointedly smoothes his eyebrow with his middle finger. I have to bite my fist not to laugh out loud.
Adair raises her arms. “Thank you, my people!” The room breaks into enthusiastic applause, no one more than the Earl of Acca. Lincoln claps politely. After that, he gulps a mouthful of wine.