Unholy Hell.
My eyes almost bug out of my head. Thrax, angels, and quasis all line the outer corridor, which is decorated in more pink stuff. My stomach turns queasy. I know these people. They’re all top dignitaries from Antrum and Purgatory. Suddenly, I’m super-aware of my scrunched-up robes and hair that seems styled by the Salon of I Just Got Le Fucked.
Shoot me now.
Lincoln moves stand beside me, his demeanor one of total calm. For the record, I have never loved my guy more than I do in this particular moment.
“Greetings, Walker.”
“My Prince.”
“I see that some of our guests are here. I wonder who let them in.” The look on Lincoln’s face says he knows exactly who was behind it. “Could it have been the King?”
Walker exhales one of his long-suffering sighs. “Your father is very excited for today, My Prince. He’s allowing certain unusual leniencies.”
Typical.
Lincoln scans the hallway and nods regally. “How kind of you to greet us.”
My tail waves frantically over my shoulder in a way that says, Attention? Yes, please. My face burns about twelve shades of red. “Walker says we have to go,” I stammer. “So we should leave. I guess.” Lincoln’s speech to the crowd was smooth. Mine? Not so much.
Lincoln sets his hand at the base of my spine. His touch is reassuring and awesome in general. “Quite right.” My guy addresses the crowd again. “We look forward to seeing you tomorrow at the wedding.”
Of all people, Mrs. Pomplemousse steps out from the shadows to wrap me in a big hug. She looks just as she did in Purgatory: a plump grandmotherly type who’s all smiles. She still wears her tight grey suit with a matching pillbox hat and veil. The scent of potpourri slams into my face as she keeps on hugging. “Thank you so much for inviting me to the wedding!”
I shoot Lincoln a confused look. We invited her?
He shrugs. In other words, he has no idea how she got here.
Oh, well. What we both don’t know about our wedding is a lot. I’m guessing this kind of thing will happen often over the next few days.
“You’re totally welcome.” I scooch away from her because that potpourri stink is worse than my breath. “We have to go now.”
“But you’re coming to the party tonight, yes? I’m counting on seeing you at the ball.”
All the air leaves my body. “There’s a ball tonight?” I’m not a fan of social events in general, but balls are my personal nemesis. My back teeth lock in frustration. A surprise ball? This whole thing screams of Octavia. She holds a formal ball when the butler buys a new goldfish. I turn to Lincoln. “I thought we discussed there would be no parties other than the reception?”
“We did.” Lincoln stares at Mrs. Pomplemousse in a way that says “I’m the prince and you better back off.” “If you’ll excuse us, my future wife and I have many duties to attend to.”
Mrs. Pomplemousse holds her ground. “But what about the ball?”
“Excuse us.” Lincoln frowns, and you can almost see the thought bubble over Mrs. Pomplemousse’s head, complete with the words “yipe, yipe, yipe” written inside.
In other words, she backs off and how.
With Mrs. Pomplemousse out of the way, Lincoln and I march past what feels like a never-ending hallway of people staring at my le-fucked hair and mostly straight Scala robes. There’s only one way to deal with situations like this one.
Work it like a pro.
I stroll by, waving and smiling. Beside me, Lincoln still looks regal and calm. For his part, Walker follows us quietly.
At last, we pass the never-ending gauntlet of onlookers and enter the warren of hidden passageways that connect different parts of Arx Hall. Unlike the huge public hallways, these spaces are cramped stone passages. Normally, I get claustrophobic in here. But right now? I’m loving the fact that there’s no one else around. I really can’t handle any more smiling and waving for a while.
The moment we’re out of earshot, Walker stops us all in our tracks. “I must apologize. I portalled into the room to warn Myla about the crowd. However, then you were…And I got…”
I shrug. “It’s cool, Walker.”
“But it’s not.” Walker rubs his hands over his pale face. “That was terrible. You’re like my little sister and—”
“I’ve got an idea.” I raise my pointer finger. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Agreed.” Lincoln gestures to the far end of the passage. “We’re expected in the Chapel, right?”
Poor Walker still looks a little shell-shocked. “Yes, your mothers await you there.”
“I know the quickest paths to that spot,” offers Lincoln.
“But I’m supposed to lead you.”
Lincoln sets his hand on Walker’s shoulder. “Will you do something else for me instead?”
“Anything.”
“Why don’t you check on the Pulpitum at Transfer Central? There have been strange reports of demon alarms going off. It could be nothing more than our unusual wedding guests, but I’d rather not take the chance.”