“Cool.” I watch Octavia finish up her speech. She’s getting misty remembering how the toddler-Lincoln tried skewering the cat with a wooden sword. It gets a big laugh. After that, she asks her son to say a few words.
Lincoln turns to address the crowd. “My people. A few days ago, the Great Scala once again saved all of Antrum and the after-realms. Two times she has triumphed over the King of Hell. She’s long ago won my heart.” Lincoln gets down on one knee and holds up a large velvet box that holds a diamond necklace, ring and tiara. “Myla Lewis, the Great Scala, champion of the House of Gurith, Greatest Warrior in Antrum, will you marry me?”
My eyes bead with tears as I meet the his gaze. “Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the House of Rixa, yes, I will marry you.” I scan the audience filled with hundreds of thrax. Sure, I’m the Great Scala and I saved all their sorry hides, but these are demon hunters. Can they really be happy with a quasi-demon as their future Queen?
A long pause follows where I’m sure a bunch of thrax have ran off to boil tar and pluck feathers. At last, one reedy voice starts to chant ‘Scala, Lincoln. Scala, Lincoln’. My face breaks out into a huge grin, all kinds of happy pumping through my body.
More voices join in. Soon, the words ‘Scala, Lincoln, Scala, Lincoln’ echo through the entire room. I wag my head in disbelief, the movement sending my gaze to the edge of the dance floor. There I see my parents, Lincoln’s parents and the ever-present Walker standing in a neat row, all misty-eyed with joy. I get a little more sniffly myself.
Lincoln gives my hands a squeeze, making me return my attention to him. Rising to his feet, he speaks in a loud voice that carries over the din of his people’s chanting. “Therefore, I offer you the mark of our betrothal.” Raising his hands, he sets all the jewels in place. “There.” His voice breaks with emotion. “That’s perfect.” Cupping the back of my head, he slowly guides our lips together. The crowd breaks out into a wild cheer.
Once our sweet kiss is over, I whisper softly in his ear.
“No, together’s perfect.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
My back presses against the thick mahogany door to my suite in Arx Hall. Lincoln’s chest moves against me, pushing me a little too roughly as his mouth grazes up the most sensitive part of my neck. Unholy Hell, that’s good. I pant for breath, heat pooling in my veins.
Lincoln’s lips brush the shell of my ear. “What to show me your rooms?”
Panic zooms through my nervous system, short-circuiting my brain. I’m sooooo not at peace with the super-special relationship Lincoln has with my inner lust demon. Twice now, Madame du Lust has almost taken over, getting the rest of us into situations we absolutely aren’t ready for. And being that Lincoln’s my first boyfriend—and as of fifteen minutes ago, fiancée—I don’t have a lot of experience chatting about this stuff. I brainstorm different ways to raise the topic and yet remain cool-looking at the same time. I got nothing.
Eventually, I do what I do best under stress, and say the first thing that comes into my head.
“Shouldn’t we go back to the party?”
“No, everyone’s drunk or dancing by now. We won’t be missed.” Pulling away from me, Lincoln carefully scans my face with his mismatched eyes. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah. Fine. Tired.” Why can I only speak in single syllables? “Night.”
I wrap my fingers around the handle and slip past, quickly closing the door behind me. I really hope I didn’t bop Lincoln in the nose, there.
Inside, the room looks the same as when I changed for tonight’s Ball of Welcome. Lots of space, lots of bric-a-brac. Now that Clover’s gone for the night, it’s awfully quiet-slash-creepy in here, too. Not sure I’m psyched to be alone in the same room where I saw Clover turn all demon-eyed. Plus, Lincoln was definitely in for a visit. So why did I slam the door in his face again?
Oh, yeah. My lust demon issues.
Damn, I keep panicking every time she shows up. And now, it’s got me hanging out by myself on the night of my own engagement. Smooth, Myla. I kick off one of my stilettos and sigh.
A voice sounds behind me.
“Wait a moment. Weren’t we planning a discussion about stilettos?”
I look over my shoulder and dang. The Sultan of Stealth has opened some kind of door hidden in my wall. Lincoln now leans in the doorjamb, wearing his leather pants and a white high-necked shirt.
“Lincoln!” I shift my weight onto my shoe-free foot. “How’d you get in here?”
“I had my things moved in next door. Didn’t I mention that?”
“No.” I kick my second shoe aside. “You’re a downright Peeping Tom.”
“Only on nights when I get betrothed.”