“Lincoln, don’t!” A shrill giggle fills the air. “You’ll muss my dress.”

I freeze.

Did she just say Lincoln? Can’t be the same guy.

“Apologies. It’s such a lovely dress too.” It is the same guy. Ugh.

I try to focus on my reading, but I can’t help but overhear them. Okay, maybe I could help, but I’m curious what Prince Pompous is up to.

Lincoln speaks again. “The minister said the Libra Scala would be over here.”

“Oh, I think I see it.” She makes little grunting noises. “Oh my, the shelf’s soooo high. Could you please pull the book down for me?”

Scrunching up my features, I mime the words ‘the shelf’s soooo high’ and stick out my tongue.

“Of course, Lady Adair.” A soft scraping sounds as the book slides down.

“Thank you, your Highness.” She giggles again.

My back teeth lock while my tail slices something nearby. Glancing about, I spy a sunny yellow pillow, now lying in two neat halves on the window seat. Anger and shock zing through my body. I just skewered a pillow without knowing it. I don’t do stuff like that, even during a Maternal Inquisition. Why does this random guy get my demon up in such a raw way?

A smile sounds in Lincoln’s voice. “You’re welcome.”

Lady Adair lets out a loud sigh. “While we have a moment, I want to say something. I was so honored that you invited me to join Verus at the Arena match.”

“My pleasure. I thought you’d enjoy the battle.”

“The fighting was fine, I suppose. But I really enjoyed seeing you act so graciously afterwards.”

There’s a long pause, then Lincoln speaks again. “You mean when I gave the demon an award?”

The demon? I’m a quasi with a name. Creep.

“Yes. That demon girl was so lucky you didn’t kill her.”

“Well, I–”

“Demons don’t stand a chance against real thrax warriors.” Her voice sounds extra-syrupy when she says ‘real thrax warriors.’ I’m pretty sure my tail just sliced another pillow into shreds. My hands ball into fists.

Lincoln chuckles. “It’s not really fair to compare a thrax and a demon girl, Lady Adair.”

“I don’t know if you’d think me too forward, but–” I can almost hear her eyelashes frantically batting from here.

“But what?”

“May I feel the muscle of your arm?”

I make a puke-face.

“I’m not sure, Adair.”

“Just for one second? Please.” A long pause follows. “Oooh! So strong.” I picture his arms and, yeah, he’s pretty ripped. But I kinda hate myself for knowing that.

She sighs. “How could any girl ask you to ‘name the time and place’ to fight?”

Lincoln’s tone turns cold. “We need to return to the others now, Milady.”