Lincoln: Angelbound Book 2 with bonus novella, Duty Bound

by Bauer, Christina;

  Myla Lewis.

  I’d think I’m somehow cursed, but that would be lying. Part of my soul soars since she’s arrived. The last time I saw my girl, she seemed almost crushed with sorrow. Now her eyes are alight with deviousness while her tail slowly flicks with strength and malice. No question about it. Myla is here to wreak her revenge on me.

  Damn, this woman steals my breath.

  And did I mention she’s wearing that dragonscale fighting suit again? She is.

  “Is that the one Aldred wants to hunt?” murmurs Acton.

  “No one is targeting the local population,” I state. “Stay here and let me handle this.”

  “Hello, there!” calls Myla. “I have a message for the–”

  Acton leaps forward. “A demon! I shall protect you, my Prince!” He races at Myla with his arms reaching forward.

  I wince. That’s might be the worst attack approach I’ve ever seen. And as is typical for his House, Acton has trouble listening to basic commands. I asked them all to stay put.

  Once Acton gets within arm’s length of Myla, my girl leaps into the air, her tail streaming behind her. Myla crouches, heaves up her knees and then kicks Acton squarely in the chest. She follows up with a backwards somersault, lands upright, and keeps going.

  At this point, I want to cheer. Seeing Myla kick ass is a beautiful sight. Unfortunately, any celebration would place Myla in danger. Two reasons why. First, Adair’s watching all this with interest. And second, there’s Walker’s advice. I can’t break Myla’s heart. Playing the rogue now will only make it easier for Myla later.

  Meanwhile, Myla maintains her steady march in my direction. Everyone watches her in stunned silence. That is, until Husani decides to help.

  “Stop now, foul demon!” cries the Horus warrior.

  I’d grab and pull Husani back, but the man needs to learn a lesson: Disobey your commander at your own peril. Plus, I can’t wait to see what Myla does next.

  Husani runs at Myla. Unlike Acton, Husani leads with his shoulders versus his very breakable hands. His plan is to knock Myla out of the way, linebacker-style. At least, he has a better plan.

  It still won’t work.

  Myla keeps walking. Her casual gait says she isn’t fretting the new attacker. Sure enough, one second before Husani slams his shoulder into Myla’s chest, my girl bends over at the waist, creating a kind of fulcrum for Husani’s bulk. While the warrior slams into Myla’s side, her tail wraps around Husani’s neck, whipping him around in a perfect arc.

  Husani lands on his back with a combination thud and crunch that will definitely require medical treatment.

  Myla cracks her neck and continues her march.

  Now, Birju and Francesco are the only two left. Noting how Husani is moaning in pain, I decide to repeat my command.

  “Do not—”

  But I never get the chance to finish. Birju’s already taken off toward Myla while swinging his wooden sword about wildly. I wince. This won’t end well. As Birju closes in on Myla, he takes up a cry.

  “Die, you demon sc–”

  Her tail punches him right in the dick. I’d feel sorry for the man, but he’ll be magically healed and—most importantly—this may be a learning moment for him. Acca’s ‘do whatever you want’ attitude is starting to take hold in my nobility. I can’t allow that to fester. And yes, my girl looks great as her tail punches a guy’s nuts.

  Myla steps up to Francesco. “Are you gonna try anything?”

  Francesco shakes his head with such vigor, I’m fairly certain he injures his neck. “No, your ladyship.”

  “Good.”

  Myla rounds on me. Her eyes flash with pure hatred. With every corner of my soul, I want to sweep her into my arms, telling her how amazing that display was.

  Not possible.

  Instead, I pull on my years of royal practice and keep my features unreadable.

  Myla lifts her hand and starts to slowly unzip the top of her fighting suit. I have to admit, I did not see this as a possibility. Adair and the other ladies give out chirps of distress. Myla grins. She’s absolutely enjoying this. Reaching inside her suit, Myla pulls out an envelope and hands it over.

  While keeping my face neutral, I take the letter from her palm. Not sure how I manage that feat, but I do.

  “Message for you from the Ghoul Minister,” reports Myla. “It’s urgent.”

  It’s an effort not to grin. I know the Ghoul Minister. Unless something involves free worms, the man has no interest whatsoever. Which means that whatever this letter is, it’s not critical. Myla is here for revenge, not to play delivery girl. How stellar.

  Myla bows. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you real warriors to fight it out.” With that, she turns and departs. And am I imagining things, or is she shaking her ass a little extra as she goes?

  Why, yes. Yes, she is.

  A little scary that I can quickly categorize the level of shake in Myla’s ass within any given situation. But there you have it. I can.

  Adair and her ladies still stand on the sidelines. I forgot all about them. Not surprisingly, they launch into exclamations of outage.

  “How dare this quasi girl attack our warriors?”

  “Evil she-demon!”

  “Foul killer!”

  You get the idea.

  But Adair isn’t what concerns me now. No, what worries me is the fact that Mother is grinning. That’s both interesting and ominous, considering how Mother’s smile is combined with the narrow-eyed look that means she’s still actively scheming.

  No doubt, whatever Mother is working on, it will be a plan of mythical proportions.

  Ah, well. Octavia will reveal all when she’s ready.

  In the meantime, I get to watch Myla leave. Her tail waves goodbye to Mother as she goes. That’s the perfect touch. Of all the people in this clearing, Mother is the one to build bridges with.

  At this point, the young lords begin recovering their senses. And along with consciousness comes a new round of whining.

  “She attacked me.”

  “The demon girl is a menace.”

  “I think my dick will fall off.”

  That last statement comes from Birju. I move to stand in the center of the four lords and speak in a loud voice. “Let this be a lesson to you all,” I announce. “Listen to your commanding officer. I ordered you not to engage in battle. Next time, pay attention. Now, get to the medical cabin for treatment. We’ll meet at the mead hall in twenty minutes.”

  Husani rubs his head. “But I may be permanently damaged.”

  “I’ve been on demon patrols since I was six,” I state. “I’ve seen truly horrific injuries. None of you have any hurt that can’t be fixed.” I point toward the medical cabin. “See the royal physicians. Then hit the mead hall. That’s all.”

  Without giving Adair another glance, I rush off to follow Myla. The last thing I need is someone from Acca following her home. It only takes seconds for me to catch her trail in forest. What I discover is a surprise.

  Myla has taken off on horseback. And not on any horse, mind you.

  Nightshade. My own mare.

  I smile. This is great news. Since Night can cast minor spells, no one will follow Myla’s trail unless my horse specifically wills it. And considering how Night feels toward Myla, they will both be fine.

  Knowing Myla is safe, I take off for the mead hall. After all, my people are rather worked up now.

  Best to wear my crown.

  15

  Before hitting the mead hall, I stop by my cabin, change into my formalwear, and—most importantly—examine Myla’s message. Sure enough, it concerns some minor scheduling incident with the Ghoul Minster. Myla was after revenge, not a chance to play delivery girl. I think through my calendar. I’ve a meeting with the Ghoul Minister coming up. I can confirm if anything in this message is an actual problem.

  Right now, I must face my court.

  By the time I open the door to the mead hall, all the young lords
are there. So are all the earls from the great houses. Even Adair has decided to join. Mother stands in the back, half hidden in shadows. Father is nowhere to be seen, but that’s expected, considering how Aldred is here and looking for blood.

  In terms of layout, the hall is a long wooden structure with an arched roof. Long tables with benches line the floor. A single fireplace sits at one short end of the rectangular structure. It’s unlit now, leaving the air chilly. Still, whether lit or not, it’s where our speakers or minstrels present. Once I enter the hall, I head toward the fireplace. As I cross the packed room, a new round of shouts ricochet through the air.

  “That demon girl attacked my son!”

  “She’s a menace!”

  “We’ll never be safe here!”

  Pausing before the fireplace, I scan the crowd. As a leader, I’ve learned how to read a group in a heartbeat. The tension here isn’t terror. My people had their pride hurt, that’s all. Allow the thrax to show their true skills, and I think they’ll calm. The four lords I trained this morning aren’t exactly our finest warriors.

  An idea appears. I know exactly how to smooth this situation over. I raise my arms. The room geos silent. “My thrax,” I begin.

  Adair steps forward, grabbing my elbow. I pointedly step away from her grip. “I have something to say, my love. It’s really important.”

  “Do tell,” I say.

  “I am the injured party here.”

  My brows lift. “Really.”

  In a stance that says ‘woe is me,’ Adair moves to stand in profile, resting the back of her hand against her forehead. “There I was, the Scala Heir, with my angelbound love fighting nearby.” Dropping her hand from her forehead, Adair turns to address the room. “Did you all see today how the igni confirmed that Lincoln and I share true and undying affection?”

  This girl is certifiably bonkers. I need to end this, now.

  I tap her shoulder. “Adair.”

  “What, my love?” she asks.

  “Whatever happened with your igni, it does not prove my affection.”

  “I didn’t fake my igni display,” she snaps

  “What a very odd thing to volunteer.”

  I scan the room again. Adair’s speech didn’t land well with thrax. My people value honesty, almost to a fault.

  Adair waves to Aldred. “Explain this, Papa. My intense adoration for Lincoln has me completely flummoxed.”

  Aldred speeds to Adair’s side. “Of course.”

  “The essential facts are this,” announces Aldred. “A demon girl has viciously attacked our people, and now I demand the right to hunt her!”

  The room erupts.

  “Hear! Hear!”

  “Huzzah!”

  “Thrax must hunt the demon threat!”

  Rage corkscrews up my spine. “Silence!” I bellow. The room falls quiet once more. “Verus summoned us here to build alliances with quasis. No thrax is to hunt the local population. Is any part of that unclear?”

  Aldred lifts his chin. “Verus spoke before our people were attacked.”

  “I could have been hurt, too.” Adair sniffles. “And here, my own angelbound love shows more interest in my demon attacker than me.” Once again, she rests the back of her hand against her forehead.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. Meanwhile, Mother keeps up her silent vigil in the back of the room. Father is still nowhere to be seen. His absence is getting on my nerves

  “Acton, Husani, Francesco, and Birju,” I call. “Step forward.”

  The lords in question move to stand apart from the crowd. Once they’re visible by everyone, I continue. “Did you or did you not attack …” I stop myself, as I almost say Myla’s name. “Attack the girl first, and explicitly against my commands?”

  All the lords lower and their heads and mumble.

  “In full voices, please.” I swear, sometimes being prince is not unlike running a kindergarten.

  The lords speak more clearly, and all in some variation of “I attacked first.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “Does anyone here doubt the truth? The young lords defied a command from their commander and prince.” I glare at each of them in turn. “I could bring you up on charges of treason.” The young lords hang their heads. “You’re all extraordinarily lucky. Past thrax rulers haven’t been as kind as I am.”

  I allow a long pause to hang in the air. The past thrax rulers in question were the House of Acca. They’d cut off the ears of men who didn’t follow orders. And that was on a good day. A chill fills the room. Everyone knows what I’m really talking about here. “And are the four of you healing from your injuries?”

  Another chorus of yes-es erupts, this one more loud than the first. Perfect.

  Lifting my voice, I make sure to address every corner of the hall. “My people. The correct response to today’s happenings is not a murderous rampage. We thrax are known for our battle prowess. Let’s show our skills in a way that builds alliances with other realms, just as Verus wished. As such, you may all display your battle prowess to this quasi girl, and do so with all the pomp and glamour of the upcoming Autumn Tournament. Let’s invite her to the tourney and show our true abilities! That is the thrax way.” I switch my focus to the young lords again. “What say you four?”

  The lords exchange looks, and then nods. A buzz of excitement fills the room. I was right. My nobles crave respect more than blood.

  I allow myself the smallest of smiles. My plan is working. Myla will stay safe. I address the young lords one more. “Can I get a huzzah?”

  “Huzzah.”

  “That’s rather low energy for such powerful warriors. Give me a big huzzah.”

  “Huzzah!”

  Raising my arms, I address the entire room. “And now, my court, what say you? Do you wish to show off the true might and dignity of the thrax?”

  “HUZZAH!” This time, the cry is so loud, bits of dust sift down from the rafters.

  “I agree. Therefore I shall speak to this quasi girl—“

  “No,” interrupts Aldred. “Adair and I confront the she-demon. After all, it’s only right after what my sweet daughter suffered at her hands.”

  The muscles in my neck tighten with frustration. The only reason Aldred wants to talk to Myla is so he can find her … and fake up some excuse to cause trouble. “No. I am the High Prince. I will handle this.”

  Adair’s pretty features crumple into tears. “But what about me?”

  At this point, Mother steps forward. One of Octavia’s most impressive skills is how she can transform from blending into shadows into full queen mode, all within a second flat.

  “What about you?” asks the queen. “You’re a thrax woman, not a sniveling coward. You’ll conduct yourself properly when our quasi guests arrive.” Mother’s voice lowers to such an ominous level, it could make angels weep. “I’ll spend some time with you so you understand what that means.”

  I stifle the urge to chuckle. Mother’s etiquette lessons are legendary. No one gets through them without crying at least once, and that’s the men.

  Adair slumps her shoulders. If the girl were a balloon, there would be a soft hissing noise as all the air left. “As you command, Your Highness.”

  Mother shoots me the barest of winks. I return the gesture. What can I say? I am absolutely a Momma’s boy, but when the mother in question is Queen Octavia, that makes one rather badass.

  With that, the majority of drama settles down. In no time, everyone returns to their respective cabins, myself included. As I walk back, I notice a translucent figure in the woods.

  A ghost.

  I follow the wispy apparition until we’re far away from the camp. In the center of a muddy clearing, I finally get a good look at the ghost I’ve been trailing.

  Silvinio.

  I grin from ear to ear. “Minister Silvinio,” I say smoothly. Rubbing my palms together, I add one final thought.

  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

  16

  Th
e ghostly Silvinio looks as he did when alive: a hefty and balding fellow in a tunic with chain mail and boots. For a long moment, the minister scans the clearing. After that, he float-walks toward a massive oak. I eye his movements carefully. Supposedly, Silvinio buried caches of magical rings that he then dug up and sold to the highest bidder. I never got solid evidence of the practice, though.

  Did Silvinio hide some rings beneath that tree?

  Once he reaches his chosen spot, the ghost of Silvinio turns toward me. “Greetings, my Prince. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  I can’t believe this. “You didn’t return from the afterlife to discuss the weather.”

  “No, my Prince.” Silvinio puffs out his chest. “I’m here because I made a deal with the Tithe.”

  “How shocking.” My tone says the news is anything but a surprise. “Does this deal change my treaty against Acca?”

  “No, of course not,” states Silvinio. “My new master has a question for you.”

  “I have some for him first,” I counter. “If your visit is like Devak’s, then the Tithe is lurking nearby, listening yet invisible. There a few things I’d like to discuss. ”

  “What do you want to know?” Silvinio glances to a specific point across the clearing.

  “To begin with, I wanted to know where the Tithe is standing.” I follow the line of Silvinio’s gaze. “Greetings, Tithe.”

  Silence is my only reply. Yet as a hunter, I can sense hidden eyes upon me. The Tithe is watching.

  Once more, I address the invisible warlock. “Devak said he was the forth soul in some a kind of countdown. Silvinio here must be the third. Which means there are two more to go until … what, exactly? You’ve every right to make deals with my people, but you’re picking on my minsters.” I lower my voice to a menacing tone. “I can’t help but take that personally.”

  Silvinio’s ghostly gaze flips between me and the invisible Tithe. “My master wants to know if you’ll allow him to hunt Myla Lewis.”

  “That answer remains no.”

  A prickle of awareness creep over my skin. Whatever is happening, it’s not about whether I’ll allow the Tithe to hunt Myla Lewis. There’s some larger plan at play, only I can’t see it. Questions tumble through my mind.