“You and Lincoln. Miserable.”
Wait a second. Did Walker say what I thought he said? “You know Lincoln?” My body goes on high alert.
“I do.” Walker’s mouth droops into a frown. “But I swore to never breathe a word of it.” A muscle twitches along his jaw. “It’s the artist in me. Too soft a heart.”
I step closer to him, careful to make every inch of me look as pleading and pathetic as possible. “Come on, don’t leave a girl hanging.”
He inhales a long breath. “I’ve known Lincoln as long as I’ve known you, Myla. I can’t explain how or why. Not yet, anyway.”
First of all, it’s totally annoying that he’s still being secretive. Tell me already! But somehow I can’t summon up my typical angst about Mom’s code of silence with everyone in my life. Besides, other topics are far more interesting.
“Did you say Lincoln’s miserable?” My face breaks out into a huge smile.
“Yes. And he’s been that way ever since he first set eyes on you.”
I remember Lincoln and I chatting on the bluff overlooking the Gray Sea. “He said something about that once. He saw me fighting Doxy demons.” But he didn’t share any ongoing Myla-related misery. Although, come to think of it, that could explain his whole ‘what a lowly demon you are’ attitude when we first met. Over-compensate much?
Walker nods sagely. “He saw you soon after his arrival in Purgatory. You burst out of a lake, I believe.”
“That’s right. I was fighting Doxy demons from the stables. They were getting too bitey, so I led them to a lake in the woods.” My voice turns low and dreamy. “Water neutralizes their sting.” And the Prince was there too? I blink three times, trying to force myself to process this information. Lincoln’s been thinking about me for months; he’s still thinking about me.
Walker cocks his left eyebrow. “In truth, he’s been a wee bit obsessed with you.”
I was right. We connected. Warmth blossoms through my chest. “No. Way.” My tail pushes his shoulder, slamming him against the wall.
“Careful, Myla.” He grins. “I’m not wearing armor.”
“Eh, you’re way tougher than you look, Walker.” I pace the stone hallway, a combination of excitement and anxiety pulsing through me. Lincoln’s just as miserable as I am. He cares about me, is even a little bit obsessed with me.
That. Is. So. Cool.
Pausing, I turn to Walker. “This is the best news I’ve had in weeks.” My brow furrows. Something about this doesn’t add up. “Hey, if he’s so into me, why haven’t I heard a peep out of his majesty?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
Uh, oh…I know that tone from Walker. He’s about to unload something awful. My body automatically goes into battle stance, bracing for the impact.
Walker inhales a long breath. “The two of you are perfectly matched.” He shakes his head from side to side, frowning.
My stomach constricts. “That’s normally said like it’s a good thing.”
Walker’s black eyes fill with sadness and empathy. “You’re from different realms. He’s a Prince. Your fighting skills are critical to the smooth functioning of the Arena.” He points to Armageddon’s seat in the Arena. “And you live in a realm that’s essentially ruled by the King of Hell. Not a stable situation.” He sighs. “Match or not, the chances of you two having a future together are slim.”
Says you. I grimace. He’s doing that Walker-thing where he acts like he’s answering my question. “Why hasn’t he been in touch?”
Walker eyes me for a long minute, then speaks. “Since you left, Lincoln’s been in non-stop negotiations with the House of Acca. They want war. The Prince is the only person the Earl listens to.”
A cold shiver whirls up my body. Here comes the bad news. “And why’s that?”
Walker folds his arms into his loopy sleeves with an air of finality. “Until you came along, Lincoln and Adair were about to be betrothed.”
Reality slams into me like a fist. What did I think was happening with Adair cooing over Lincoln all the time? Choosing him to be angelbound? Not to mention all that weird muscle grabbing. They were getting engaged.
No, that can’t be right. Shaking my head from side to side, I kick the wall, hard. I remember Adair singing at the Winter feast. She said Lincoln was her love; he almost barfed. “Lincoln doesn’t seem to think he has to marry her.”
“Perhaps he’s right.” Walker frowns. “But there’s far too much stacked against you both. Believe me, I’ve no joy in saying this. You need to move on now, before your feelings grow too deep.”
I roll my eyes. “Please. I kissed the guy once, that’s all.”