In front of all the thrax nobility.
It’s too bizarre to be real. For a time, I can only stand there and stare at him. In some small corner of my mind, I realize my tail is poking me in the shoulder, trying to get me to snap to attention.
I can’t.
It’s simply too much. After everything Lincoln and I have been through? Somehow, watching Aldred come at me is basically the final straw in this metaphorical cow-pie of this fiasco.
At last, my warrior sense kicks in. There’s no way I’m letting Aldred of all people punch me in the kisser. I shake my head, trying to get myself into battle focus.
That’s when Lincoln steps in. He inserts himself between Aldred and me and grabs the Earl’s fist. Aldred stops as the high-pitched snap of bones echoes through the courtroom.
Huh. Lincoln just broke Aldred’s hand. And by the sound of it? In multiple places, too.
Yet another reason to love my fiancé.
When Lincoln speaks, his voice rings with rage. “Come after Myla again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”
Aldred turns to the Arbiter. “Did you see that? These two are violent criminals. This court must lock them up! How can you not do this?”
The Arbiter frowns in Aldred’s direction, and I swear the temperature drops twenty degrees. I shake my head. Right now, the Arbiter truly resembles a Greek statue come to life. Only, you know, one who’s seven feet tall and wielding untold superpowers.
“I believe my last order was for everyone to leave,” announces the Arbiter. “Not to charge each other with raised fists.”
Aldred lifts his hand. The fingers tilt at odd angles. “He broke my bones.”
“I saw who attacked first,” says the Arbiter coolly.
“You can’t mean that.”
“This court deals in truth. I know what I saw.” The Arbiter’s eyes flare with white light. “You’re not blackmailing me, Aldred. I’ll support the facts. You attacked first. Under thrax law, the high prince did what was his right.”
I pump my fist in the air. Go, Arbiter.
Aldred’s face twitches with rage. “You’re in league with them!”
“Disrespect this court once more, and you will be the one in prison.”
At last, that shuts Aldred up and fast. He storms from the room with his menagerie of losers following behind him.
Too bad that’s most of the thrax nobility.
As the courtroom empties, my parents rush over, showering Lincoln and me with hugs and hellos. Dad looks mighty smug with himself, as he should. After all, my father’s sanctuary scheme just put one over on the Almighty. Meanwhile, Mom’s looks hollow-eyed and weary. A pang of guilt moves across my rib cage. I know how my mother thinks. Chances are, she’s been worrying her head off about the whole honeymoon-in-prison thing.
Octavia approaches at a slow and regal pace. It gives me a chance to appreciate the perfectness of her black Rixa gown, silver crown, and sweeping updo. She air-kisses Lincoln and me. All the while, Connor stands a safe distance back. He’s also done up in his medieval king best. Even so, the man looks totally guilty.
As he should. I’ve no doubt that whatever Connor’s been up to this week, it hasn’t been helping team My-Linc. At last, Connor finally decides to approach Lincoln.
“Good work, son.”
My mouth falls open. That’s it? “Good work?” How about “wish I could have helped” or, even better, “sorry I’ve been totally fighting you every step of the way.” A million insults fly through my brain. All I can manage to get out is one sound. “Huh.”
Lincoln points to the exit. “We need to talk.” I fight back a smile because Lincoln’s voice is about two octaves lower than normal. That means he’s about to lay down the law with Connor. Yes.
My parents catch on that things are about to get ugly. Mom straightens the lapels of her purple jacket. “We’ll return to our chambers.” She’s in total Presidential mode now. “It will give you all some time to talk.”
“Thanks, Mom.” They both speed off at a respectable pace. I return my attention to Lincoln and his parents. My guy looks pissed. Connor still seems totes guilty. And Octavia? She stares at her husband with a gleam of adoration in her eyes. Unbelievable.
At this point, it’s worth repeating that for a very sharp woman, Octavia has a massive blind spot when it comes to her husband.
Lincoln slips his hand into mine. “Let’s discuss the situation in my chambers.”
“Yes, of course.” Connor straightens his crown. “Your mother and I will be there shortly. Troubles with the Pulpitum, you know.”
“We know,” I say slowly. “We were the ones who asked you to get rid of Acca so the trouble would stop.”
Connor fidgets with his crown some more. “It’s not Acca.”