Lincoln’s parents keep pace behind us as we head deeper underground. The four of us have been walking through the maze of passages for a while now. We haven’t seen anyone else around, which isn’t surprising. The Vault isn’t exactly a thrax hot spot.
At last, the passageway opens into a small reception room. This is a boxy space that’s lit by torches. It holds the circular portal-door to the vault itself, as well as a line of guards. Like the Pulpitum, all thrax Houses take turns supplying warriors to guard the Vault.
Today’s group is from Acca. Ick.
Lincoln and I step into the reception room first. As we march into the torchlight, the Captain of the Guard eyes me from head to toe. He’s typical Acca—average height, light skinned, and his hair is the color of spun gold. Not sure what kind of conditioner they use in Acca, but it really makes some of their tresses looks like metal. If they ever got around to bottling that goop, they could charge a fortune in Purgatory.
“What is this? You’re not supposed to be here.” Unlike the other guards, the Captain wears a tunic and chainmail that appear to be made of gold. He glares at us while setting his hand on the pommel of his sword.
Connor steps forward out of the shadows. “It is the royal family, my man.”
“Ethan,” corrects Lincoln. “The Captain’s name is Ethan.”
Everyone stares in surprise at Lincoln. I know he memorizes the guard rotation for his personal chambers, but Lincoln tracks the Vault as well? I can only smile. My guy is so stealthy.
“Ah, Ethan,” huffs Connor. “We’re here to see Cryptan, the Protector of the Vault.”
Protectors are regular folks who get offered an eternal job. Personally, I got drafted into my supernatural gig as the great scala. Cryptan volunteered, though. Unless he meets an untimely death, he’ll spend eternity doing the same thing over and over, which in his case means sitting alone in a vault. Not my bag.
“Cryptan is well, my King. My team checks on him every hour. He responded to my hail some twenty-seven minutes ago.”
“Thank you,” says Connor. “You may return to your duty.”
If you didn’t know Connor, you wouldn’t think he was super-pissed right now. That said, I’ve been hanging with Lincoln’s father long enough to know when he’s angry. The way his fingers drum on his thigh? The man is pissed. Ethan will get his ass handed to him later, I can guarantee it. In Connor’s mind, you don’t go around pointing swords at his son’s fiancée. However, Connor sees himself as too royal to reprimand anyone directly. For my part, I can’t wait to have a crown and the authority to kick verbal ass down here. Right now, I have to keep my mouth shut. That said, once I’m Queen? Closing down stupidity will be a total job perk.
“As you command, my King.” Ethan goes back to stand against the wall once more, but keeps glaring in my direction.
“You have a problem, Ethan?” I ask.
“I’m simply doing my duty, Great Scala.” The way he says “Great Scala,” you’d think I’m something he scraped off his shoe. “Keeping Antrum safe.”
Meaning I’m a demon in his homeland.
What a dick.
I take a step toward Ethan, ready to give the guy a piece of my mind. I am so tired of this demonist bullshit. Lincoln grabs my elbow, stopping me. “Connor will handle him. Not to worry.”
“Fine.” Still, I make my eyes flash with demonic red light, just because I can. Ethan visibly trembles, which is a most satisfying sight.
Lincoln steps up to the Vault door. It’s a small metal portal with a heavy iron handle and one of those spinny-dials you find on old-fashioned safes. It’s not much as doors go. However, this place doesn’t need tons high-tech in order to be secure. It’s got Cryptan, the protector who guards this Vault. For the record, I know Cryptan asked to guard this place alone for all eternity, but I still think we should give him two weeks’ vacation every year. This is yet another area where I plan some reforms once I become Queen. Bottom line? Using enchanted workers gives me the creeps.
Lincoln pauses before the door. “I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax, and I request access to the Vault. Here with me are my parents and bride-to-be.”
“What’s the pass phrase?” Cryptan’s voice sounds deep and crackly from disuse. It’s yet another reminder of how rarely he sees or talks to anyone. Poor guy. At the very least, we should enchant a dog to keep him company. Sheesh.
“Aquila immortal,” says Lincoln.
“That’s right.”
The iron door slowly swings open. Cryptan stands in the shadows of the inner Vault. He’s a handsome middle-aged guy with short brown hair and a somewhat dazed look on his face. That said, Cryptan is also mega-huge, a fact that is highlighted by the oversized armor that he wears. Today, his helm is tucked under his left arm. “Greetings, royal family.” His mismatched eyes catch mine and twinkle. Cryptan is kind of a flirt. “And to you as well, Great Scala. I could sense someone coming and hoped it was you.”
“Hey, Cryptan.” I start to offer him a high five and think better of it. I’m pretty sure his gauntlets have spikes on them. “Did you get a chance to look at any of the books I left you?”