Angelbound (27 page)

I turn in their direction and glare, my eyes flaring demon-red. Their faces whiten. Quick as a heartbeat, they all turn away.

I smack my lips. “Now they’ve stopped.”

Octavia stifles a smile. “I wish I could do that trick.” She gestures across the tournament grounds to where Lincoln must be stalking around. “My son doesn’t look at you at all.”

I make a point of
not
gazing in the direction of her point. “That’s fine with me.”

“I see.” She sips her wine, watching me closely. “Are you enjoying the tournament?”

“Honestly, no. I knew the ghoul who fought the Earl of Acca. Killing him was not—” I clear my throat. “He wasn’t a worthy opponent, that’s all.”

A smile curls the queen’s lips. “Spoken as a true thrax.”

My back teeth lock with anger. “I’m a quasi-demon…As the Earl of Acca was quick to point out.”
And your son, too, although I won’t say that to your face.

“I know. I’ve seen your tail.” I glance at her mismatched eyes. Behind them, mental gears whirl and spin even faster. I have the weird feeling she knows exactly what I was thinking about Lincoln.

I sigh. It’s bad enough sitting through another of these boring tournaments, let alone making small talk with Lincoln’s calculating and somewhat creepy Mom. I fidget in my chair and watch the gate swing open on the tournament green. An
Arachnoid demon crawls out onto the field of battle. Arachnoids are ten-foot tall daddy-long-leg spiders with extra armor and a bad attitude. They have tiny bodies, thread-thin legs, and giant pincer mouths with a poisonous bite. Across the green, the Earl of Kamal marches onto the field, a tiger by his side.

I shake my head. “He should’ve brought a falcon.”

Octavia sips her wine. “And why’s that?”

“The tiger can fight the Arachnoid’s legs all day; it won’t make a dent. They have light armor that’s good as dragon scales. But the demon’s body is pretty unprotected, especially from the top. A bird could go after it pretty easily.”

In the edges of my vision, I see my tail straighten Octavia’s crown. That thing so needs a leash. Frowning, I give it a smack.

Octavia arches her eyebrow. “I was about to thank you for doing that.”

“It wasn’t me. My tail has a mind of its own sometimes.”

Her lips purse. “Interesting.” She eyes me from head to toe. Suddenly, I understand how animals feel in the zoo.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Why’d you invite me here, Octavia?”

She chuckles. “I wondered if you’d ask the obvious question. Would you believe me if I said it’s a matter of quasi-thrax diplomacy?”

“No.”

“That’s wise.” She sips her wine, examining my face, and then sets the goblet down. “I brought you here because I think my son finds you interesting.”

My eyes almost pop out of my head. I look behind me. Someone else must have snuck into the pavilion. “Me?” I tap my ribcage.

She nods.

“You don’t know your son very well.” He’s a pompous jerk who would never be interested in a ‘demon’ like me.

“Perhaps.” The corners of her mouth round up slightly. “I think I know
you
, however.” Octavia snaps her fingers. Bera rushes to stand before her.

The handmaiden bows. “Your Highness.”

“Escort Myla to my family’s tent.” She pats my hand. “I gave your measurements to my smithy. He’s made you a suit of armor. I’d like you to fight in the tourney under the crest of my homeland, the House of Gurith.” She gestures to the tournament field, where the Earl of Kamal battles the Arachnoid. “Whoever kills that demon first, wins the tournament and is named the greatest warrior in Antrum. I think it will be you.”

My heart leaps in my chest. “Yes!” I jump to my feet and stand beside Bera, then pause. I scan the queen’s mask-like face. The wheels of her mind still whirl and churn. “Why’re you helping me?”

“Bera, will you wait for Myla at the base of the stairs?” Her handmaiden nods and steps away.

The Queen curls her finger in my direction. “Come closer.”

I lean forward; Octavia whispers in my ear. “I’m helping you, my dear, because you and I are the only two females in this vicinity who aren’t nit-wits.”

My face stretches into a wide grin. “I like you Octavia.”

“Do you?” A smile dances in her eyes. “Go put on your armor.”

I meet Bera at the base of the stairs. She leads me through the crush of the
crowd to a small golden tent decorated with a Viking-style dragon’s head. Bera pulls up the entrance flap; we step inside. It’s an empty and snug space filled with small store of weapons. A great wooden trunk lays against one wall.

“Come here, girl.” Bera pulls up the trunk’s lid. Inside sits a fitted suit of under-armor made from brown leather along with a golden breastplate. I brush my fingers over the dragon’s head insignia hammered into the metal. “It’s so beautiful.”

Bera beams. “It’s like the one Octavia wore when she battled in these very games so many years ago. The House of Gurith’s one of the few that allows women warriors.”

“Did she win the tournament?”

“Second place. Connor took first.” She winks. “But you’ll win today, girl.”

I gently pull the armor from the trunk. “If not, I’ll look great fighting.” I stare into my reflection in the shining gold and grin. I’m about to fight in the tournament. Me, demon girl. My tail swishes in an excited rhythm. I know exactly how to down that Arachnoid too.

I quickly put on the armor. It fits perfectly. Bera ties back my long auburn hair with a golden ribbon.

“There, now. You’re all set.” Bera gestures to the store of weapons. “What would you like? A blade? Crossbow?”

“Nothing, just me.”

The blood drains from Bera’s face. “What will you fight with?”

My tail pops over my shoulder and waves in her direction. “One guess. Let’s
go.”

We march out of the tent and through the crowd. Stares and whispers surround me. It’s awesome. Bera guides me to one end of the tournament green. On the field, the Earl of Horus battles the Arachnoid. He’s going after the legs too. Dumbass.

“Now, wait here, girl. The Earl has a few more minutes of time. If he doesn’t kill the demon by then, it’s your turn.”

I watch the Earl of Horus hack away at the Arachnoid’s shin. It’ll be my turn.

While I wait, I stretch and crack my neck. Cissy steps up beside me, her eyes big with shock.

“Myla, what are you doing here? What’re you wearing?”

“Armor.”

“You’re supposed to wear traditional dress.”

“I am following tradition. The Queen told me to fight the Arachnoid, and it’s tradition to do what the Queen tells you, right?” I wag my eyebrows up and down.

Cissy grabs my upper arm. “You mean that nasty spider monster out there? You’ll get killed!”

“No, I’ll have a good time.” I pinch her cheek. “You worry too much. Arachnoids are easy-peasy.”

A silver trumpet blares. The Earl of Horus walks off the tournament green to encouraging cheers from the crowd.

Bera steps forward, sets one hand on the wooden fence and swings it open. “Your turn, girl. Make Gurith proud.”

I stride onto the tournament green. The crowd falls silent. Somewhere in the distance, a cow moos. Worried voices whisper that I’m not carrying a weapon.

I smirk. That’s what they think.

The Arachnoid charges at me, its long legs a flutter of movement. I wait until it’s a step away and jump high, gripping the upper half of its nearest leg. Arachnoids keep the top of their limbs level; you can use them like a gymnast’s parallel bars. I haul myself up until my belly rests on the spider’s upper thigh. Swinging my body 360-degrees, I spin about the spider-leg and into the air. I somersault upwards, landing on the demon’s tiny body.

In the corner of my vision, I see Lincoln standing by the edge of the tournament ground, an empty muzzle in his hand. He stares at me intently, his face unreadable.

What the blazes does he want?

I lose my footing, slide straight off the demon, and land on the ground with a whump. A gasp sounds from the crowd.

Focus, Myla.

I hop back onto my feet and wait for the Arachnoid to make another pass. It scurries around to face me, its legs moving in an odd rhythm. The limbs are now angled so they aren’t level. Clever spider. I can’t vault onto its body anymore.

I need a new strategy.

The Arachnoid scampers toward me, two long pincers flexing in its hungry mouth. My inner demon goes into overdrive. Volts of anger shock my system. My tail flicks eagerly by my shoulder.

As the spider scrambles nearer, I drop to the ground, rolling to the demon’s outer left side. My tail loops around two of its eight legs. Bounding to my feet, I run straight under the creature’s belly, flipping it onto its back. The Arachnoid lays stunned and immobile. I quickly step about the spider’s small body, weaving my tail around its eight limbs.

With a swish of my hips, I cinch all the spider’s legs together.

Gotcha.

Trumpets blare. The crowd cheers. A chant of “Kill! Kill!” erupts from the pavilions.

I fold my arms over my chest. “Why kill it? It hasn’t done anything to me.”

The Arachnoid recovers from its shock and starts fighting my tail. One of the demon’s legs breaks free, slicing through my leather armor and scratching my back. Pain rips up my spine. My eyes blaze demon-red.

“Okay, now it’s done something.” I spin about, hauling the Arachnoid with me. Once the demon has enough momentum, my tail releases it, launching the spider to the other side of the tournament grounds. The monster slams into the protecting wall with a thud, leaving a long smear of yellow goop as it slides to the ground.

I frown. “Well, now it’s killed. Yuck.”

The crowd erupts in another cheer. Cissy races out onto the green and gives me a big hug.

“Myla, that was amazing!”

“Thanks, Cissy.” It’s tempting to say ‘I told you so,’ but I don’t want to be a
sore winner.

The Queen waves me toward the royal pavilion. I walk over and stand before her and King Connor.

Octavia grins. “You did well.” She and the King share a look that’s an entire conversation in itself.

King Connor raises his arm. “I hereby declare Myla Lewis from the House of Gurith to be the greatest warrior in all Antrum!” The crowd lets out a hearty round of applause.

Octavia addresses the crowd, a golden swath of fabric in her hand. “As is our tradition, I award a silk handkerchief to the winner.” She offers me the garment. “I thought you might prefer this, however.”

I take the fabric in my hand. It’s a delicate golden shawl with tiny pearl beading. “Thank you, Octavia. This is lovely.”

The Queen smiles. “The armor is yours to keep as well.”

“Wow. Thanks, again.” I rub the delicate fabric between my fingertips. The Queen planned this all along. My eyes sting, but not with rage. I’m not used to mom-figure types who have such confidence in me.

King Connor lowers his arm. “It is tradition for the winner to accompany each House on one demon patrol throughout the next year. I hope that meets with your approval?”

Demon killing on earth? My heart and mouth both kick into overdrive. “That would be sweet!” I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “I mean, I would be honored to join demon patrol, your Highness.”

Connor’s laugh lines curl up with his smile. “The winner may also make a single request of the King and Queen. As long as it is within reason, your boon will be granted.”

There’s no question what I want. “I’d like to keep Nightshade.”

A smile quirks the Queen’s mouth. “A kindred soul, eh?”

I shift my weight from foot to foot. I hope this isn’t a rude request. “Yes. Nightshade is very special.”

The King and Queen share a long look.

“Granted.” Octavia motions to a nearby servant. “Please make sure Myla’s horse is saddled and ready for her to ride home tonight.” She gestures to the open chair beside hers. “Now join me for the closing ceremony.” I step into the pavilion and take my place at her side.

The rest of the tournament is a lot of falderal and marching around. Trumpets play, lords parade, and ladies giggle. The Earl of Acca struts around like a peacock with a new set of feathers. Everyone stops by to say ‘good evening’ to the Queen and ‘congratulations’ to me. Finally, the guests go home, the sky turns dark, and Octavia rises to her feet. She pats my hand.

“Well done, Myla. You are a tribute to the House of Gurith.”

“Thank you.”

“Was I right to assume you’d ride Nightshade to the Ryder stables tonight?”

“I’d like to.”

“Of course. You’ll find her beyond that line of trees.” She gestures across the tournament grounds. “Good night, my dear.”

“Good night, Octavia.”

The Queen walks to the other side of the pavilion. Connor’s sturdy form waits there by the exit stairs. The King nods in my direction, winds Octavia’s arm through his, and the pair step away.

It takes a bit of meandering in the dark, but I find the stables easily enough. It’s a long wooden building set into the trees. The front gate lies open. I step inside, seeing a central aisle lined with a dozen stalls on each side. Nightshade stands at the building’s end. An oil lamp casts a circle of light beside her as she nuzzles a crouched figure. Whoever-it-is sits half inside the final stall.

The stranger rises to his feet, and I see the familiar outline of Lincoln: broad shoulders, earthy-brown hair, and military bearing. My stomach twists. With his back to me, he scans a shelf of jars at the far wall. Nodding, he pulls out a white container. He crouches on his heels, leaning over something in the last stall.

I step closer. Nightshade brushes her muzzle against Lincoln’s back. Reaching behind him, the Prince absently pats the horse’s cheek. “I know you’re there, Night. I’m happy to see you too.”

I freeze in place. Nightshade is Lincoln’s horse? My mouth starts talking on its own. “Hi, there.”

Lincoln rises to his feet. “Oh, hello.” He stands straight and alert, his black body armor open at the neck. Candlelight casts shadows on his full mouth and scooped-out cheeks.

“I’m here for Nightshade.”

The horse leans her blue-gray head toward Lincoln. “She knows. We’ve been
saying good-bye.”