Not that I blame her.
My girl needs time; that makes perfect sense.
I take a half step toward the door. “I wanted to check that you’re okay. Things were a little touch-and-go last night.” I exhale, thinking about time before her fever broke. “And you look fine.”
Myla stands in profile, her stare still locked out the open window. A heavy weight of worry settles onto my shoulders. Have I ruined things with Myla?
“I’ll take my leave now.” I reach the door.
“Hey.” Myla twists around to face me. I freeze, my palm gripping the handle. Her eyes meet mine. “Thanks for … you know.”
“Saving your life?” I offer.
“Yes, that.”
A thin cord of connection winds out between us. I could shout for joy.
“No problem,” I say. “We’re running a special this month on magical horses and lifesaving.”
She smiles and, damn, her face lights up with that expression. “You have a sense of humor. Somehow I didn’t expect that.”
I give her the side-eye. “Well, it’s not like I wowed you with my dazzling personality when we met.”
“No, you didn’t.” Myla chuckles, and I love that sound.
The moment freezes in my mind. This is it. A crossroads in my history with Myla. It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain everything. What I want to say is this: the tournaments, the trainings, my playing the rogue … it’s all been to protect you. Myla Lewis, you exploded my world and I couldn’t be happier. I’d do anything to keep you safe. My heart is yours.
Speaking that out loud might feel good, but it would lead to questions about why she needed protection in the first place. I want Myla to be my queen. My people are finally moving away from their fear of quasis. Telling Myla that my nobles wanted to hunt her? That won’t help matters any, either for Myla or my people. I recall what Bera said last night.
Give us a chance with her, too.
And in the end, I can’t pretend this was my people’s doing. It was my decision—and mine alone—about how I chose to protect her. I’m no fan of long excuses. I made choices, and I will own them. When I next speak, I try to express all the emotion and honesty locked in my soul. Whatever I did, I hurt her. That was wrong.
I take in a deep breath. “In fact, I was closed-minded and awful for far too long. I’m very sorry.”
Myla scrunches up her mouth that says, I believe you. Maybe. “No more nasty ‘demon girl’ comments?”
I set my palm hand over my heart. “Never again.” I wink. “I got a stern talking to from my mother about that.” I grin, thinking about my conversation with Octavia in the mead hall. Mother was dead set on making me smile again. And here I am, grinning. “And you know how she can be.”
“Yes, I do.” Myla laughs and it’s a ringing sound that echoes through my soul.
With every corner of my being, I want to start over.
No Aldred.
No fear.
No duty.
An idea hits me. Why not do just that?
I move closer to Myla. “How about we start over?” I bow slightly. “Hello, I’m Lincoln.”
She gives me the mother of all side-eyes before replying. “Myla Lewis.”
I offer her my hand. “Friends?”
“Friends.” She sets her palm on mine. Everywhere we touch, there’s a current of excitement and desire. The connection turns intense, fast. Myla drops her hand. “I guess I’m stuck here for the next few days.” She shrugs. “I don’t feel all that sick though.”
Leave it to Myla to figure out that something’s off here. I give her a mischievous grin. “I have a very over-protective court physician.”
She pokes my shoulder. “Hey, now. Did you get me out of school?”
“If I did, it would be justified as an extra tournament reward.”
“So, what’s there to do around here, friend?”
No question what to do first. I’ve only spent hours fantasizing about it. “Want to take Nightshade for a ride?”
She nods. “Sure.”
“Good.” If I died now, I’d be a happy man. “I’ll have some riding togs sent over.”
“Pants, please.”
Of course, my girl would want to avoid heavy gowns. “I’ll make sure they offer you a wide selection.”
“Great.” Myla yawns and stretches. “See you at the stables in an hour?”
I frown. “You don’t need more time to get ready?” Mother is one of the fastest ladies I know, and it takes her two hours to put her face on, as she calls it.
Myla sniffs. “Do I look like that girl to you?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “No, you don’t.” I swing open the door. “In an hour, then.”
I’m not ten yards from the door when Lady Adair steps into my path. “Oh, my angelbound love! There you are.”
“Good morning.” I pointedly sidestep around her and continue toward my own cabin. Adair must jog to keep in sync with me. It’s an impressive feat, considering how she’s wearing a heavy gown and fancy shoes.
“There seems to be a problem with Fortes Pointe.” That’s their main castle in Antrum.
“You don’t say.”
“The water main just burst.”
I already knew this, considering how I sent an urgent message to my hidden contact at Acca, asking for some non-lethal sabotage. A broken water main is brilliant. My contact will be paid well.
“Are the royal engineers there?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Then you are in good hands.”
Adair grabs my wrist. “It’s just that Father’s not here now, and I need to talk to you.”
It’s with a not-so-small sense of satisfaction that I feign complete ignorance. “Whatever would we need to discuss?”
“Our future, dummy.”
“Interesting statement.” I pry Adair’s fingers off my wrist. “Here’s the thing.” I look Adair straight in the eyes for this next part. “There is no future for us. I’m marrying Myla Lewis; she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“The demon girl? Father will kill her.”
“He can try, but he’ll have to get through me first. And let’s not forget Myla’s skills, either.” This is turning into one of my favorite conversations with Adair, ever. “Myla’s the Greatest Warrior of Antrum. My girl can squash Aldred like a bug.” I purse my lips. “On second thought, encourage your father to attack Myla. It could be entertaining.”
Adair stomps her foot, which causes a loud slurping sound in the mud. “You’re just saying this because you want better terms on the betrothal contract.”
“No, I’m saying this because we …” I slowly gesture my hand between us. “Are never getting married.”
Adair gasps. “This isn’t over. Father will fight this.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else. Excuse me.”
As I step away, a small voice in the back of my head states that when it comes to Myla, there’s still too much to worry about, from Armageddon to Aldred to the mysterious Tithe. But I decide to ignore that voice for now.
I’m off for a ride with my girl. Nothing in the after-realms shall distract me.
23
After ditching Adair, I head back to my cabin and change into my own version of riding gear. Perhaps it’s the elation of spending a day with Myla, but my mind has never felt sharper. I step over to my puzzle table and—BOOM—that’s when I see it. The correct way to position the pieces. My fingers move swiftly to realign the little scraps of map. There it is. The Tower of Wonders sits directly above a particular spot in Antrum called the Echo Vortex.
Time to see that place first-hand.
The Echo Vortex is the equivalent of a magical powerhouse for Antrum. Without the vortex’s energy, my people wouldn’t have regular air pumped through our system of caves. Even the Incaenda river, the fiery waterway that connects our houses, would cease to flow. Elaborately built-out caverns would collapse. But like any powerhouse, running i
t is a sensitive business. Surprise visits from royalty are both rude and unwise.
All of which means I must send a letter to schedule my visit.
But I’ll pen that missive only after riding with Myla because MYLA.
With the Echo Vortex plan in place, I change my clothes and head out. By the time I reach the stables, Nightshade has already gotten herself saddled up. It’s one of her best spells, by the way.
Although Night’s ready to go, my horse Bastion needs more care. I just finish saddling up when Myla strolls into view. She looks lovely in a mortal-style blouse and pants. My girl grins as she approaches and, damn, that smile sends warmth right through me.
I gesture toward my steed. “I’d like you to meet Bastion.”
“He’s a beauty.” Myla pats the horse’s neck. “Another from the House of Striga?” She runs her fingers through Bastion’s mane.
“Yes. I didn’t raise him, but we’re still very close.” At this point, it’s simply too tempting that Myla’s hand is so close to mine. I run my fingers through Bastion’s mane as well, making sure that we touch. Once again, a connection ignites wherever our skin meets. It’s glorious.
Does she have any idea what she does to me?
Myla pulls her hand away and our gazes lock. Those cords of attraction wind between us ever more tightly. Myla clears her throat and looks away. Her cheeks redden.
With that blush, I know the answer to my question. No, Myla has no idea how magnetic she is. Somehow, this phenomenal woman has moved through life without being worshipped.
That’s about to change.
Myla clears her throat. The intensity of the moment cools. “How’s the Furor?” she asks.
“Much better. He still hasn’t changed form, but we moved him to the palace infirmary all the same.”
A thought occurs to me: once Myla is my queen, we can regularly share details of our days and realms. The thought makes me giddy. Hell, everything about Myla makes me smile.
“I’m glad,” says Myla.
Nightshade trots up to us and stomps on the ground with her front hoof. I’m about to tell Myla that means Night want to go, but there’s no need. In one fluid movement, Myla hauls herself onto Nightshade’s saddle. I shake my head. Most people find Night foreign and unreadable. Leave it to Myla to decipher the mare right away.
In turn, I hoist myself onto Bastion and focus on Myla. “Ready?” I ask.
The flush on Myla’s cheeks deepen, and it’s nothing less than adorable. “Sure,” she replies. “Where to?”
“Follow me.” I click my tongue and both horses take off at a gallop.
Now, Night will follow wherever I lead. And certainly, I could guide both our horses along the outskirts of camp, far away from prying eyes. But my people need to start adjusting to the idea of Myla and me together. Am I getting ahead of myself? Probably. That said, I’ve already missed too many chances to show off Myla.
Plus, for once, I’m trusting to what I feel.
In short order, Myla and I ride past the main row of cabins for upper nobility. The great ladies peep out of the windows. We don’t have a strict speed limit here, but most riders slowly their horses when passing the cabins.
Not this time.
Myla and I ride by at a gallop. It’s all things heady and marvelous, especially when I see how every inch of my girl lights up with speed and freedom. This is how Myla is meant to be—barreling along on horseback, her auburn locks streaming, and her brown eyes flaring with delight. The only way she’d look better is leaping through the air.
Which gives me an idea.
Within minutes, we leave the camp, pass the forest and hit some open ground. I click my tongue once more, which signals the horses to slow down. I scan the landscape. Somewhere around here there’s a line of hedges that are perfect for jumping. Now, one of Night’s many spells is keeping any rider safe. That said, it doesn’t mean that Myla will want to leap over anything while on horseback.
The line of hedges appears on our right. Glancing over my shoulder, I call out to Myla. “Do you think it’s too dangerous to–”
My girl doesn’t seem worried. “Hyah!” She calls, her voice loud and confident. Night leaps into action, racing for the hedge at full gallop.
This woman. How could I even wonder if she’d want to jump?
I click my tongue and Bastion takes off for the hedges as well. It’s a close race, but Myla and Night definitely finish first. Once we’re both past the barrier, Myla rounds me. “And that is me kicking your butt!”
I can’t help but laugh at my own folly. Here I was, wondering if Myla would feel comfortable simply jumping the hedge and she takes it to the next level. I lock gazes with her again. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”
Our stare turns heated. When Myla speaks again, her voice has a husky edge. “To a warrior, everything’s a competition.”
“Are you really prepared to all-out compete with me?” In my heart, the question takes another turn. Competing means challenging each other, side by side. Can she really want that? It seems too fantastic to be true.
Myla sticks out her tongue. “Do your worst.”
It’s a simple answer, and like all things with Myla, there’s no artifice here. My girl enjoys a challenge. And since she used the words ‘do your worst,’ I fully intend to fight a little dirty, should the opportunity arise.
“Good,” I state. “I will.”
There’s no question about where I’ll take Myla next. This is one of my favorite spots in Purgatory, and I can’t wait to share it with her. Clicking my tongue, I command our horses in a new direction. A short ride later, we reach the top of a cliff overlooking a massive desert made from charcoal-colored sand.
The Grey Sea.
Together, Myla and I dismount and step up to the cliff’s edge. The way Myla scans the place, it’s clear she’s seen it before. Which makes sense, considering how this is her homeland.
Myla sits on the cliff’s edge, her feet dangling below her. “How often do you come here?” she asks.
I take a seat beside her. “Whenever I need a break from court. Maybe once a week.”
“The Grey Sea is lovely in a…” Myla pauses, searching for the words.
“Bleak desert kind of way?”
“Exactly.” Myla grins, and I decide that I’d do anything in the world to keep her smiling.
“So, what’s it like to hunt demons on earth?” She asks.
I wince. “A bit grisly. Most of the ladies in court ask that I skip the more gruesome bits, so I usually cut the description short and simply say that—”
“Well, if one of those ladies shows up, you can stop talking.” Myla gives me a dry look. “It’s me here, Lincoln.”
“Right.” I stand again. “Let’s say I’m the demon. I’m on earth’s surface causing all sorts of trouble, only humans think I’m a storm or an illness breaking out or whatever.”
Myla gasps. “Humans can’t see demons?”
“Nope.” I point to my blue eye. “Thrax only see them as part of our angel nature, and you probably see them from the demon part in yours. You be the thrax.”
She rises as well, holding up her hands our as claws. “Grr.”
There’s no stopping my chuckle. Myla’s really getting into this—enjoying this side of my world—and it’s wonderful.
“And a ‘grr’ to you, too.” I gesture toward her. “So you find out demons are causing trouble somewhere, let’s say it’s a forest. You get your team together and suit up for demon patrol.”
“Do you wear those tunics to fight demons?”
“Nope. The one place thrax go high-tech is on demon patrol. We have the latest in body armor, night vision goggles, that kind of thing. The Rixa bring one traditional piece of equipment.” I pulls two silver rods from their holster on my jeans. I’m casual today, but that doesn’t mean I’m unarmed.
Myla beams. “I was hoping we’d get to this part.”
“They’re called baculum.” I
toss them to her.
“This I know.” She proceeds to ignite the baculum. I blink hard, not believing what I’m seeing. Most thrax would love to wield baculum, but it’s only the House of Rixa who can. But here’s Myla, igniting the rods into any number of weapons.
“These things are amazing.” She leaps for me, wagging a fiery trident at my chest. “Taste death, evil demon!”
Do I love how she’s getting into this? Why yes, yes I do.
I shoot her a sly look. “Did you just ask me to ‘taste death?’”
Her cheeks redden. “I might have gotten carried away.”
“No need to blush,” I say in a deep voice. “Although it looks good on you.”
Play isn’t something that royal princes do. Other kids were too scared to play with me. They either feared that they’d hurt me, or that I’d hurt them. It wasn’t an unfounded worry. For years, I didn’t know my own strength. Now in this moment, it’s great to play-act with Myla. There’s no worry about peerage, royalty or strength. All I know if that we’re enjoying each other.
I tap my chin as I mock-contemplate my next move. “Taste death. I can work with that.” Staggering about, I clutch my heart. Then I tumble onto my back, twitch dramatically, and play dead.
“Excellent performance, your Highness.” Myla extinguishes her trident. Leaning over me, my girl places the baculum onto my stomach. “Thanks.”
I open my right eye. “You’re welcome.” Sitting up, my thoughts return to the fact that Myla actually ignited baculum. “How’d you do that? Only Rixa can use baculum.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Did you ever test these with quasis? Maybe we’ve always been able to.”
Nodding, I think things through. Myla has a point. My people know next to nothing about quasis. “Sure.” The moment the word leaves my mouth, I try to figure out how anyone demonic could possibly ignite a baculum. That power comes from being an angel. And not just any rank and file angel, either. An archangel. Another comment tumbles from my lips. “Maybe.”
Lincoln Page 22
