Cissy, Lincoln, and I press our way through the crowd. As we move along, Adair stares at Lincoln in a way that’s somewhere between adoration and rage. She’s so creepy, it isn’t funny.
Once we step onto the stage, Lincoln turns to me. “Mind if I kick things off? The podium has my crest on it, after all.” I glance over to Mom, quickly shifting my pointer finger between Lincoln and the podium. She nods quickly.
Excellent. That nod means that Lincoln’s good to go.
“Mom says it’s fine. Have fun.” I kiss Lincoln on his cheek. Several lightning bolts worth of flash bulbs go off.
“Thank you.” Lincoln steps up to the podium and taps on the microphone. An electronic thud-thud echoes through the auditorium. The crowd quiets.
Lincoln scans the room, his chin held high, and crown perfectly centered on his head. He looks very regal and badass. “Good evening, everyone. I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the House of Rixa. This is my Embassy and these are my Diplomats who run it. For the record, this emergency press conference was called without my approval. Anything said here tonight does not represent the full will and opinion of those who rule Antrum.” He stalks to the back wall of the stage and glares at Adair, who quickly rushes up to the podium.
“Hello, I’m Adair, the Great Lady of the House of Acca, rulers of Antrum for countless millennia. I was also first to be initiated the Scala Heir after Maxon Bane.”
Fresh anger pulses through me. The first to be initiated? What the what? Adair’s entire initiation ceremony was a fake. She admitted so herself. And it was one thing when Adair spewed out this garbage to Lincoln and me. It’s another thing to say it to the press.
Adair gestures to Lincoln. “I thank my esteemed colleague for his introduction, but I can assure you that the royal family was made perfectly aware of this emergency press conference. So, without further ado, I would like to officially announce the initial findings of my investigation into the dangers of the Ghost Towers.”
The room goes quiet and Adair scans the room, prolonging the moment.
My rage level skyrockets. If there’s one Adair-related thing I hate more than her lies, it’s her drama. My tail arches over my shoulder, snapping into battle stance. I don’t even bother to tell it to heel. At this rate, I may very well fight her on-stage in front of everyone, press be damned.
“Here’s what I have to say,” announces Adair. “You think those are Ghost Towers? They’re pressure cookers, ready to explode any moment!” She does jazz hands. Actual jazz hands.
Every muscle in my body screams take Adair down, right now. Lincoln senses my rage, and slips his hand into mine. I grip his fingers so tightly, I’m surprised he doesn’t yelp with pain. Still, his touch centers me again. Somehow, I’m able to hold it together while the press reacts to Adair’s show.
And react they do. The reporters go wild. More flashing. More shouting. The audience begins to move as an angry mob, pushing towards the stage in waves.
“We’re on the brink of new Ghost Riots, my friends. I tell you, every quasi in Purgatory could be murdered at any moment. The bottom line is simple. You need to someone to move those souls now. I am the Scala Heir.” She raises her arms high and igni materialize around her palms. “Once I become the Great Scala, I’ll move those souls for you, I promise. All I need is the opportunity.”
Opportunity, my ass! What Adair’s asking for is nothing less than my assassination. Once I’m dead, she’ll get the rest of my igni, easy-peasy. The truth slams into me like a punch to the gut. Sneaking around…causing trouble…stealing my igni…all of Adair’s actions have worked towards a single goal. Causing the mass riots, fear, and panic that end in my assassination and her ascension as the Great Scala. Bottom line: she thinks I stole her life, and now she’s stealing it back. Unholy Hell.
“And if you don’t believe me, I’ve brought Tower Warden Celia Graham to speak with you tonight. She’s worked inside those ticking time bombs herself. She’ll back up every word I have to say!”
Celia? Really?
That’s it. Rage courses through every cell in my body. My eyes flare demon-bright. I march up to the podium and glare death at Adair. “Step aside.” My tail arches menacingly over my shoulder. “And if you try to lay a finger on me, that’s one less finger you’ll gave. Understand?”
The room falls eerily silent. Every eye becomes locked on Adair and me.
“I speak the truth,” chirps Adair. But her voice comes out more as a question.
“Move it, Adair. Now.” My eyes flare an even brighter shade of red, and Adair quickly returns to her place against the wall.
Nice.
Closing my eyes, I summon enough igni to pack every inch of airspace in the auditorium. Their little silver bodies whirl about, diving around the reporters’ feet, spinning through their hair and equipment, and bursting fireworks-style above their heads.
Soft oohs and ahs fill the air, which I find most satisfying.