It’s dark by the time I return to the thrax compound. I settle Nightshade into her stall, then steal over to the mead hall, my evil cargo in tow: a cooler filled with the Reperio demons from my Biology class.

This is so awesome; I can’t stand myself.

I tiptoe up to a long wooden building with an arched roof. The only windows are two high vent-holes, one on either side of the building. I pause and adjust the collar on my fighting suit. Light flickers in through the window-holes. From inside the hall, the air echoes with the chatter of voices and clinking of silverware. Thrax are feasting inside.

Taking a deep breath, I position myself under one of the vent-holes. Using the thick outer planks, I scale up the building’s side and settle myself onto the window’s ledge. In front of me, the ceiling is filled with a network of heavy wooden beams.

I smile. It’ll be easy-peasy to crawl along the main beam.

I scan the hall below, careful to hide in the ceiling’s shadows. Two long wooden tables line the floor, both surrounded by thrax. The men wear crested tunics; the ladies are dressed in formal gowns of their house’s color. At the far end of the building, a minstrel sits beside a crackling fireplace, playing a soft tune on his lute. Servants bustle around, refilling wine glasses and plates. Mid-way along the far-right table, the King, Queen, and High Prince sit in throne-like chairs. Lincoln wears his black leather pants, silver chain mail, and black tunic.

The Earl of Acca rises to his feet. He runs his plump hand through his thinning red hair. “Perhaps the Scala Heir will honor us with a song?”

“Of course, Father.” Adair slides off her bench and walks over to the minstrel. She wears a long white cloak, just like the old Scala. The room grows quiet. “I know you’re all wondering what it’s like to be the Scala Heir.” She glances dramatically about. “Of course, it represents a massive power shift for the House of Acca.” She gestures to her father. He grins so hard his cheeks must hurt.

Adair folds her hands into her cloak’s long sleeves. “I’m now more than a thrax, maybe even more than a mortal.”

I roll my eyes. This is worse than the ‘can I feel your muscle-y muscles’ line. This girl needs a healthy dose of reality.

“Tonight, I wanted to share my personal Scala journey with you all.” Adair inhales a long breath and looks to the minstrel. “I’ve written a song to the tune of ‘Are you going to Scarborough Fair?’” She gestures to the lute player who plinks out a quiet melody. All faces are locked on Adair and her song.

Now’s my chance.

I creep along the dining room’s main ceiling beam, my evil cargo in hand.