Trickster

3. Lincoln

3

Lincoln

It took a little doing, but I got what I wanted. Myla looks straight at me, her irises flaring with crimson light. The demon spark. Our connection lasts a second and forever, all at once.

Slam!

A heavy wooden door thuds against the gymnasium wall. I frown. There are two ways on and off the gym floor. The first is the main entrance; the second leads to the locker room. Either way, no one should enter at this time, let alone make a ton of racket while doing so.

As disappointing as it is, I break my gaze with Myla. Turning, I find none other than Aldred standing framed by the gym’s threshold. The earl is a hefty fellow in a yellow tunic decorated with Acca’s emblem, a closed fist. A thin comb-over of red hair stretches over his skull. Aldred marches across the gym floor, his belly shaking with each step.

Which brings me to a turning point.

There are a number of options here. I could order Aldred to leave the gym. Or I might ask him why he’s interrupting my lesson. Finally, I could simply punch him in the throat. Over the years, I’ve learned that none of these work where Aldred is concerned. Best to hang back until the earl reveals his true plans. Then I act accordingly.

Thus for now, I must wait.

My Master of Arms, Nat, follows behind Aldred. Essentially, a Master of Arms acts as personal trainer for me and my top guards. Nat looks the role as well, considering how he’s middle-aged with graying hair and a compact body. And the way Nat’s mouth pulls tight? My Master at Arms is fuming about something Aldred-related.

This will be interesting.

All the nobles turn quiet. No one wants to miss a thing.

Aldred kneels beside Rufus. With a dramatic swoop of his arm, the earl runs his hand over the lion’s armor. “Ha! I thought so. This clasp is loose.” Aldred turns to the crowd. “Battle lions are under the exclusive mandate of the House of Acca. This error brings unspeakable shame upon me!”

Time was, Acca used to rule Antrum. Then Rixa kicked them off the throne. To have a bloodless transition of power, Rixa allowed Acca to keep certain battle rights. Bottom line? My family can’t force Acca into war or dictate anything related to combat. Battle lions fall under Acca’s—and therefore Aldred’s—absolute control. I suspected the earl might use today’s event in order to grab attention for himself and his house. I took the risk because, well, Rufus is simply that cool.

Aldred scans the room. “Who set this armor?”

That’s when I see the real problem.

Aldred holds a rope in his pudgy fist. The other end of that cord encircles the neck of a scrawny nine-year old boy. The child’s too-large yellow tunic is decorated with the image of a threadbare lion. The clothing—shabby as it is—means the boy is a servant of Acca who cares for Rufus and his extended family. A long scar runs from the child’s right eye to his chin. My gaze snaps to Nat, who still glares at Aldred. No question about it. My Master at Arms is enraged by Aldred’s treatment of this child.

Nat’s not alone, either. Watching that cord dangle about the child’s neck? White-hot fury burns through my soul.

“I said, who set this armor?” yells Aldred. To accent his point, he yanks on the line around the boy’s throat.

Fresh waves of outrage careen through me. I round on Aldred. “What’s on that child’s neck?”

Aldred sniffs. “It’s a traditional minder system for battle lion caretakers which—as you know—falls under the exclusive rule of the House of Acca.”

My skin chills over in disbelief. Sure, Aldred’s treatment falls under battle rules. Yet there are larger laws at work here. Tying up children is an abomination.

Aldred yanks on the cord once more. “Answer me!”

This time, the boy falls onto his knees, his skinny limbs quaking with fear. “I was the one who set the armor, Lord Aldred.” His voice breaks with a sob. “Everything seemed fine.”

Aldred focuses on the crowd once more. “According to ancient law, battle lions are solely subject to my rule. I do not tolerate sloppy work when it comes to matters of formal combat.” Aldred stares at Myla as he says the words sloppy work and formal combat. Not a surprise. Aldred is forever painting my fiancée as thrax tradition breaker extraordinaire.

In fact, this entire interruption could simply be Aldred wanting to show how he follows formalities while Myla does not.

Somehow, I doubt it will be that simple, though. Aldred is notorious for layering plans within plans.

Even so, Aldred’s schemes are not my main concern right now. This child is. I take a pointed step closer to Aldred. “That’s enough. Release the rope.”

Aldred’s thick mouth pulls into a sickly smile. “Of course.” The earl drops the rope to the gym floor before winding up his arm, ready to slam his fist into the child’s ear. “Botched traditions and combat errors must be punished!”

Shock rattles through my nervous system. A single thought appears in my mind, the realization written large. Aldred plans to strike this defenseless child.

Moving swiftly, I grip the earl’s wrist before it connects with the boy’s head. When I next speak, my voice is a low growl. “I said, enough. Try that again, and you’ll land in the infirmary. Am I clear?”

“Always,” whispers Aldred. His smug grin stays firmly in place, however. After years of sad experience, I know Aldred is still scheming. Whatever the earl is up to, it’s about more than hurting small boys.

Releasing Aldred’s wrist, I kneel before the child. Up close, it’s clear how another scar runs over his scalp, dividing up his hair crossways. He’s been injured before. Often. The realization makes my heart sink.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Baptiste, your Highness.”

“And your house?”

“I have no mother and father. Officially.” Baptiste twists the folds of his dirty fellow tunic. “I am fortunate to be a servant in the House of Acca.”

“Would you rather officially join a house?”

The child looks up, his mismatched eyes wide with shock. “Yes, your Highness.”

Rising, I address the gym. “Let it be known that Baptiste is now part of Rixa.”

Nat steps forward, his face split into a wide grin. As Master of Arms, Nat trains young thrax for Rixa guard duty. He’s taken in a number of orphans so far. Long story short, there’s no way Nat will leave this gym without Baptiste in his care.

Aldred moves to stand between Nat and Baptiste. “This whelp has no house. He’s lucky to serve Acca.” Reaching forward, Aldred goes to smack the base of Baptiste’s skull.

Fast as lightning, I grip Aldred’s wrist and twist. Hard. Snaps sound as bones break. “I warned you.”

“And I defy you.” With his free hand, Aldred sets his hand on the hilt of his golden long sword.

A voice echoes from the balcony. “Nuh-uh, buddy.”

I grin. That’s Myla speaking. In a single swift movement, my girl leaps over the balcony’s edge to land right beside me. The moment her feet hit the floor, Myla’s robes transform from a fitted sheath into white body armor. It’s one of her supernatural talents as Great Scala. At the same time, Myla’s tail juts forward to grip Aldred’s free hand.

“Who are you to touch me?” cries Aldred.

Myla’s tail twists. More snaps sound as Aldred’s other wrist breaks. “Who am I?” asks Myla. “A true thrax warrior.”

The implication is clear. Our people live by a code. Thrax don’t hurt those who aren’t attacking, especially if the other party is less powerful, let alone a child.

The lines of Aldred’s face pull tight with pain and rage. “This boy still has no house.”

“False,” counters Myla. “Lincoln just said it. Baptiste is now in Rixa.”

“But there is no approved ritual for transferring someone without official parents,” snaps Aldred.

Here we go. For most thrax, you can ruin almost anything by simply dropping the words no approved ritual.

Myla rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She twiddles her fingers at Baptiste. “Bippity boppity boo. You’re Rixa.”

I raise my free hand. “I second the motion.”

“Done,” states Myla.

“And dusted,” I add.

We share a grin. One thing about my Myla. She can make any occasion fun.

I look to Aldred. “May we release your wrists now, or must things get uglier?”

“Do it,” grumbles the earl.

Moving in unison, both Myla and I set loose Aldred’s injured hands. “There’s a magical infirmary around here somewhere,” says Myla. “They’ll fix you, easy peasy.”

Aldred scurries out the door to the lockers. Which makes sense. Magical first aid is located there, and they heal broken bones in seconds. For his part, Rufus follows Aldred out with slow and regal steps. No question about it. Today got a little dicey because I added Rufus into the mix.

Yet fighting with a battle lion? Totally worth it.

With the earl gone, I pull out my baculum. These are short silver rods that I can ignite into any kind of weapon created from angelfire. This time, I form them into a dagger made of white flame. Stepping over to Baptiste, I cut the rope from around his neck. Angry red marks encircle his throat. Deplorable.

I pat his shoulder. “You’re free now, little man.”

Genuine relief shines in the boy’s dirty face. “Thank you, your Highness.”

“Nat?” My Master at Arms marches up to my side. “Do you have room in combat prep for a new recruit?”

This is all for Baptiste’s benefit, by the way. I already know the answer to this question.

Still, Nat silently counts on his fingers as if he is truly unsure. “As a matter of fact, I do have a place available. That is, if the young lad wishes to be trained.”

At these words, Baptiste’s face brightens. I kneel before the child once more. “Would you like to learn how to become a Rixa solider with Nat?”

The boy nods quickly.

“Excellent,” I declare. “It is now so.”

“Your Highness.” Nat beams, takes the boy’s hand, and turns for the exit.

“One last thing.” I lower my voice so only my Master at Arms can hear me. “Do the regular.”

Nat nods. “Absolutely.”

This isn’t the first time we’ve run across a rogue house that mistreats children. Nat has become a self-taught expert on righting certain wrongs.

As Nat and Baptiste step out the main door, I raise my hands to the audience. Silence follows as all the nobles focus on me. “Everyone, thank you for attending today’s class. In the end, it covered more topics than battle lions, which is a good development. As you all know, children have rights here in Antrum. Every house must respect that fact or pay the consequences.”

Myla taps my shoulder. “We have a guest.”

Sure enough, Aldred now stomps out onto the gym floor. He looks fully healed and ready for trouble. The earl scans the balconies before raising his arms. “Do not leave yet! I have something to say!”

I fight the urge to groan. Of course, he does.