“Did you come here with Lincoln? You two disappeared at the party after your little Cunnus girl thing.” Her tiny eyes thin to slits. “I need to talk to the High Prince. Now.” She pokes my rib cage with her pointer finger. “I’ll have you know, he and I are basically almost-engaged.”

I take a deep breath. “Sure you are.” I want to kick her. So. Hard. “Focus, Adair. Remember the nasty worm demon?”

“Lincoln!” She yanks against me with all her strength.

I speak in the loudest whisper I can manage. “Adair, stay still.”

She drags us both a few feet across the stadium floor. “I know what you’re trying to do.” Panic flickers in her eyes. “You’re pretending to be the Scala Heir, aren’t you?” She shoots a desperate look at Lincoln. “Well, you’re not. I’m the Scala Heir. I’M THE SCALA HEEEEEEIR!”

Crap.

The Tinea stops. Angling its lumpy head, it sniffs through two jagged nose-holes. “Scala Heir.”

Oh no, it smells the scent of igni on me, just like Armageddon did.

Lincoln hacks away at the Tinea’s body, but the wounds heal as soon as they’re made. The only way to kill a Tinea is to cut all four wormy limbs at once. Which is why no one’s ever done it.

The demon plunges its arms into the ground, its body quickly burrowing under the soil of the Arena. It leaves behind a narrow hole in the stadium floor. I stare at the darkened pit, wishing I could jump in and hide for a little while. Maybe just until Adair’s dead.

Lincoln sprints in our direction. “Don’t move!”

“See, I was right. My Prince will save me.” Adair’s face twists into a haughty smile. “I’m thrax, and thrax know demons. That worm-thing was nothing to worry about.”

Ugh, I can’t believe she’s this thick. Leaning my weight on my right hip, I watch her hop about and call for her Prince. Oh yeah, I believe.

“The demon will resurface any second.” I grip her arm tighter. “Don’t move or it will show up right by your–”

“Lincoln! I knew you’d come for me.” She jumps up and down. Again.

I sigh. “Adair, you need to work on your listening skills.”

Lincoln stands beside the false Scala Heir. I release her arm; she cuddles into his chest. “Oh, my Prince! I was so frightened.”

Rage boils through me. Hands off, he’s mine.

Lincoln pats her back. “Everything will be fine, Adair.” His gaze shifts to me. “Myla, you said you’d keep her still.”

Sweet Satan! No way are my Adair management skills getting critiqued here. I set my fists on my hips. “I tried. She’s kind-of a bitch.”

Laughter dances in Lincoln’s eyes.