I exhale a sigh of relief. That particular voice is unmistakable. “Walker, it’s you. Why don’t you pull up your cowl?”
“Don’t say my name, no one knows I’m here.” Walker speaks in an urgent whisper. “Listen closely, we don’t have much time. The transfer stations are on lock-down.”
All the oxygen seems to get sucked out of the ballroom. Transfer stations on lock-down? That means no going in and out of Antrum.
“How did the stations go on lock-down?” Lincoln’s careful to keep his voice low. “I didn’t approve that.”
“I thought as much,” says Walker.
“Did Mother or Father sign off on this?”
“No, I don’t know how it happened,” explains Walker. “That’s the problem. The ghouls that I’m following around, they keep babbling on about a secret scheme that launches tonight. I’m trying to find out what it is. As long as they think I’m an average ghoul, they may open up.”
Everyone knows Walker and Lincoln are friends. He can’t keep talking to us, or the ghouls will get suspicious…And we’ll miss any chance to learn about this secret scheme.
“Are Mom, Dad, and Cissy alright?”
“They’re fine, but they’re getting the runaround at the Purgatory transfer station. Camilla’s about to call in the military. I snuck off and got in through my back-doors.”
Bit by bit, Walker’s news seeps into my brain. My parents and Cissy really aren’t coming, and it’s all part of some secret plan to ruin my big night. My gloomy mood deepens.
Lincoln lightly touches Walker’s arm. “You better go.”
Walker steps away and merges into the crowd.
“Well, that news is a whole lot of awful,” I say. “Some scheme to keep my family away. Nice.”
“I suspected something was off when we transferred into Arx Hall yesterday. All the non-Acca agents at Transfer Central seem to keep falling ill. No doubt, they’re trying to ruin tonight for you. My apologies, Myla.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault.” I decide that now is a really good time to stare at my sandals.
Suddenly, I feel very alone, lost in a sea of faces that don’t want me here. Sadness presses in around me. I hope the transfer stations open up soon, because at this point, I’d really like to go home.
“What’s wrong?” asks Lincoln.
“Nothing.”
“It’s a big something, your nothing.” He runs his thumb along my jawline. “Transfer stations got you down?”
“Maybe.”
“Come here, you.” Lincoln wraps me in his arms, kissing me in a way that’s slow, gentle, and all-around perfect. I open my eyes, feeling a blush crawl up my cheeks. Half the ballroom is staring at us.
“What was that for?”
“For you’re wonderful.” He cups my face in his hands, and all the love in the world rests in his eyes. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks or does. You’re meeting my nobility tonight and one day, I’m making you my Queen. Believe that, Myla.”
“You know what? You said that once before and yes, I totally believe it.” A tingly sense of joy shifts across my skin. What do I care about the rest of the world? Screw Acca. There’s Lincoln. He’s what’s important about tonight, and he’s right beside me.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Lincoln leans in close and whispers in my ear. “How about we start working the ballroom like we’re having the time of our lives? That’ll really frustrate Acca.”
“Oooooooh, I like this concept. A lot.”
At that moment, the Rixa Herald plays another tune from his post atop the stairs. Lincoln and I share a confused glance. As the guest of honor, I’m the only one who should get a fanfare. Octavia only drilled it into my head a thousand times.
The Herald lowers his trumpet, and for a second I see his irises glow red. I suck in a shocked breath. This can’t be happening. I grip Lincoln’s arm more tightly. “Did you see that?”
His voice takes on a menacing edge. “Yes, I did.”
Up on the platform, the Herald’s eyes return to a mismatch of brown and blue. He gazes at the trumpet by his lips, the lines of his face slack with confusion. For a full minute, he stares at the instrument as if he isn’t sure how it got by his mouth.
Unholy Hell. That’s the same thing that happened with Clover. Red eyes, weird behavior, and finally, confusion.
Seconds tick by as everyone stares at the top platform, waiting for someone or something to appear.