I loop the top of the blanket over my head. “Thanks, Mom.”

“And Myla?”

I take little shuffling steps to turn around and see her, the blanket still curled around my ears. “What, Mom?”

“I’m very proud of you.”

My face breaks out into a huge smile. I didn’t expect it’d feel that good to hear her say those words. “Thanks, Mom. I’m proud of you, too.”

22

Sometime after lunch, Nightshade and I start the long ride to the thrax compound. Mom gave me a ghoul robe to wear; I’m careful to keep the hood drawn low to hide my eyes. As Night and I gallop along, a light drizzle falls over the browning trees and yellow grass. The clouds hang low and dark in the sky.

I sigh. The weather’s as gloomy as my mood. Walker was right. Lincoln and I have a lot stacked up against us, and that was before I became the Scala Heir. Now I’m off to who-knows-where so I can hide for no-one-knows-how-long. I can’t imagine this being good for our relationship.

Night and I soon cross the rolling hills to the open fields of thrax lands. I’m too nervous to enjoy the ride much. My thoughts keep turning over the realizations of the morning and how they probably spell doom and gloom for me and Lincoln. Night whinnies, breaking me out of my funk. I glance about, finding us stopped in front of the thrax feasting hall.

I lean forward and pat Night’s neck. “In here, girl?”

Night whinnies again.

“Thanks.” I slide off her back, step up to the hall’s door and pull on the wooden handle. It opens with a long creak. I step inside, finding everything to be quiet, empty, and dark. My stomach somersaults with nervous energy. How do I even begin to explain everything to Lincoln?

“Hello? Anybody in here?”

No response. In a corner, I hear the clickity-clack of mouse claws on the wooden floor. No one’s around. I stand by the feasting table, drumming my fingers on the rough wood. Anxiety spirals up my spine. The only thing worse than having to explain this to Lincoln? Having to hunt around the thrax compound first and find him. Maybe Nightshade made a mistake.

The door behind me slowly swings open. Adrenaline pumps into my bloodstream. Moving quickly, I pull my hood low over my face, steal across the room, and flatten myself against a stretch of wall by the door.

A column of light slices through the darkened feasting hall. Lincoln steps inside along with two older men.

My body relaxes a bit. Night was right.