“Prevention is simpler than cleanup, my boy. When Connor gets in a foul mindset, he can cause all sorts of trouble that I must then fix. Plus, these rough moods are rare. Your father’s a dear most days.”
To you, maybe. But to Lincoln? Not so much. Connor basically handed over all major kingly responsibilities to Lincoln while my guy was thirteen. In other words, Connor keeps the crown while Lincoln gets all the work. That was a huge amount of pressure to place on the shoulders of someone whose biggest concern should have been acne, not ruling millions of thrax and keeping billions of humans safe. Octavia’s too in love with her husband to see the truth.
“It’s best if I go now.” Octavia kisses Lincoln lightly on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” She rushes from the Vault at a pretty nimble pace for an elderly lady. Then again, Octavia was once a warrior.
Cryptan gestures toward the door. “You had best depart as well. Too many secrets are held in this Vault. No one should loiter about.” That’s Cryptan’s standard statement after we hang for a few minutes. That said, I’m not letting him off the hook so easily this time.
I wag my finger at him. “You promise to read the books I left you?”
“That I do, Great Scala.”
“Okay, cool.” I turn to Lincoln and pat my stomach. “I’m hungry.”
He chuckles. “You’re always hungry.”
I shrug. “Welcome to your future.”
“How about we head to my study? I can have meals sent up.” I don’t like the flinty look in Lincoln’s eyes, at all. My guy is scheming about something.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Now that the codex is safe, I’d like to find out some more about the Wheeler Institute.”
“You’ve been obsessing about that ever since Desmond said the name, haven’t you?”
He winks. “What else would you expect?”
From the guy who memorizes guard rotation schedules? Nothing less. “Where do you think we can we find some maps?” I ask the question, but I bet a million dollars Lincoln’s already thought this part through.
“I keep the best ones in my study.”
“Of course, you do.” Arx Hall only has about a dozen libraries. Leave it to my guy to sneak out all the good stuff for his private collection. I wrap my hand around Lincoln’s forearm. “Lead the way, babe.”
Demons? The Wheeler Institute? Snack time?
Count me in.
Chapter Eight
Lincoln and I step down yet another gilded passageway in Arx Hall, his family’s castle in Antrum. After leaving the courthouse Vault, we took a transfer platform directly here. It’s one the many benefits of Lincoln being High Prince. The House of Rixa has his own set of Pulpitums. Sure, before it was faster to use the public Pulpitum to get straight to the courthouse station, but now? We’ll take the private Pulpitum back, thank you very much.
It’s a short walk to Lincoln’s study. A Rixa knight stands guard before the golden doors. “Good evening, Your Highness. Great Scala.”
I nod and smile, which hopefully hides the fact that I have zero idea who this dude is. “Hey.”
“Hello, Felix,” says Lincoln.
“Will you be staying long?” asks Felix.
“A few hours at least,” answers Lincoln. “Please ask the kitchens to send up something for dinner.”
My tail knocks on Felix’s breastplate, and the guy almost jumps out of his armor.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “That was just my tail. He doesn’t like being ignored.” I pat the arrowhead-shaped end and talk in a baby voice. “Do you, boy?”
Felix’s chainmail jingles as he leans forward. “And greetings to the great scala’s tail.”
My tail straightens. That thing is such a ham.
Felix pats his breastplate with a clink. “I almost forgot. There was a message for you, Great Scala.” He pulls out a small envelope from behind his armor. “I should have said something right away.”
I pull the envelope from Felix. “That’s fine. Thank you for getting it to me.”
Felix goes back to his station while Lincoln pulls open the door. We step inside, and I think what I always do when we hang here.
I love this room.
Lincoln’s study is a huge stainless-steel box. It’s easily one of the most modern places in Arx Hall. The thrax keep records on almost everything by using rolled sheets of parchment, and Lincoln stores his copies here in movable glass walls. Yeah, he’s that badass. Each wall is about three feet deep and is set on a track that’s built into the floor. Inside the storage walls, there are shelves to hold all of Lincoln’s rolled treasures. A whole troop of servants do nothing but sort through new sheets and put them carefully away.
There’s a small seating area by the main doorway. It’s not much: some leather chairs and a table. Right now, that tabletop is stacked high with the latest documents waiting to be filed. I plunk down into a chair and examine the envelope from Felix. It’s addressed to Myla-la, which means it could only come from my parents. I tear the message open.
Lincoln slips into the chair beside mine. “What does it say?”
I read aloud.
Dear Myla-la,
I’m working my contacts and researching the Wheeler Institute. Come to the clubhouse tomorrow night after your court appearance. By then, I may have some information for you.
Dad