The trio step into the darkened room; I adjust my hood for a better look at them. Lincoln wears his traditional leather pants, chain mail, and tunic. An older man stands beside him with ebony skin, long dread locks, and the crest of an Egyptian eye on his chest. Probably, the Earl of Horus. Next to him stands a man with cocoa skin, high cheekbones, and short gray hair. His tunic’s covered with the image of three blue claw-marks: the Earl of Kamal.

The door swings shut behind them, leaving the room in semi-darkness. Horus searches around the feasting table. “Curses, where are those blasted candles?”

“Never mind that,” says Lincoln. “You said your need was urgent.”

Kamal is the first to speak, his voice a rich baritone under a clipped accent. “We heard the House of Striga backed out of the Alliance.”

My brows arch. Alliance? What kind of Alliance?

Lincoln folds his arms across his chest. “Striga has some questions, but I still have their seal on the Alliance parchment. If they back out—if any of you back out—it will mean the King’s wrath.” His voice becomes a low rumble. “You gave your seal. You gave your word.”

I’ve never heard Lincoln get angry before, and I must admit I like him bossy. Desire starts pumping through my veins along with the adrenaline. The skin around my eyes heats up. Hells bells. My stupid inner lust demon’s about to get me caught. Closing my eyelids, I force myself to think about saying goodbye to Lincoln. After a few seconds, I calm down enough to pay attention to the conversation again.

The Earl of Horus waves his hand. “This Alliance isn’t worth the parchment it’s written on. Even with Horus, Kamal, Striga, and Rixa together, we don’t have enough strength of arms to face down the Earl of Acca.”

I inwardly groan. Walker told me about this before. The Earl of Acca runs the most powerful House in Antrum. Now he wants the throne too, which in his mind means Lincoln marrying Adair. Reason number 439 why this relationship is probably doomed.

Kamal snaps his fingers, a falcon swoops from the rafters to land on his shoulder. I stifle a gasp, but Lincoln and the Earls barely notice the animal. I guess the House of Kamal must do stuff like this all the time. “Take my advice.” Kamal runs his pinky down the falcon’s head. “Give Acca what he wants.”

Lincoln chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Really? Is that what he wants this week? You’ve seen what happened with my father. Give in once and there’s no end.” He gestures between the two men. “We all know what’s happening here. Acca sees my father as toothless, so now he’s coming after my canines.” He slams his fist into his hand. “I must stand my ground or I no longer deserve my crown.”