42
LINCOLN
Now, the obvious answer to TH’s question is, of course, I accept this challenge.
Only, Myla and I can’t appear overly excited. Therefore, I pull us off into an obliging corner. If we really wanted privacy, we’d leave the room. Or at a minimum, we’d angle our bodies so everyone can’t see our faces and gestures.
But in this case? This isn’t about privacy. Myla and I are putting on a show.
I hug my elbows and frown. “This is my fake expression of concern,” I say in a low voice.
Myla widens her eyes. “And this is me totally pretending to be shocked. Oh. My. Me. TH challenged you to the Tournament of Kings.”
I press my knuckles against my mouth. It’s an overblown sign of anxiety, but I’m on a roll. The entire ballroom is watching us now. “That he did.”
Myla tosses her head so
