Duty Bound Page 6

  Father pats me on the shoulder, breaking up my thoughts. “You’re doing the right thing, lad.” He speeds out the cabin door, no doubt on a mission to find Aldred.

  Father thinks I’ve committed to a marriage with Adair. I’ve just made plans for my marriage. So why does that thought make me feel as if I’ve planned my own funeral?

  Chapter Ten

  I can’t focus on those documents anymore, so I decide to go check on Nightshade in the stables. She glares at me as if to say, I know why you’re really here.

  Unfortunately, we haven’t seen any sign of Doxy demons for days. Most likely, the whole company of Doxies should return and soon. And yes, I’ll be waiting, but not really to hunt demons, even though I am a demon hunter. How crazy is that?

  I’m brushing Nightshade’s coat for the tenth time when I hear Mother’s light footfall enter the stables. She pauses in the main aisle.

  “Greetings, my son.”

  “Welcome back, Mother.”

  “Odd to find you in the stables this time of day.”

  “I need a break.” With every passing day, my obsession with the mystery girl grows… And more of the color drains out of my world. I sigh. “This spot is soothing.”

  Mother stares at me with such intensity I swear she can see my soul. “You’re waiting here for Adair. We talked about emotional attachments, Lincoln.”

  I brush Nightshade with a little too much force. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “So someone other than Adair. That could be tricky. What house is she from?”

  “Stop this, Mother. I haven’t met anyone.” And the fact that saying that makes my heart thud against my rib cage? That’s merely coincidence.

  “Which means that you don’t approve of your own choice, then. Is she from one of the lesser houses? I’d have heard something.”

  “I’m sure you would have.”

  “It couldn’t be one of the Purgatory quasi-demons.”

  I pause. “You’ve been talking to Walker, haven’t you?”

  “He would never willingly share one of your confidences.”

  “Emphasis on the word willingly.” No one is better at grilling people for information than Mother. I toss the brush aside. “You’ve been misled. I would never fall in love with a demon. I’m a demon hunter. Killing their kind is what I do.”

  “So you do have feelings for Adair.”

  “I barely know her.” I turn and focus my full attention on Mother. “You’ve just spent a romantic trip to celebrate your anniversary. That’s something I’ll never have.” Images flicker through my mind. A red dress. A full mouth. The dance of all dances. Only trouble is, it was a dream dance with a mystery girl. That’s something I’ll never have in real life. When I speak again, my voice comes out as a whisper. “I’m not made of stone, you know.”

  Mother’s mouth falls open for a moment, but she catches herself quickly. “We put a lot of pressure on you.”

  I pick up a brush and start re-brushing Nightshade’s already perfect coat. “I’ll be fine, Mother. I always am. Just give me a little time to sort things through.”

  “Of course,” Mother turns, starts to leave, and then pauses. “One last thing. Tell me about your Acca display of prowess event tonight.”

  “What about it?” I keep brushing Nightshade and avoiding eye contact. If Mother sees my face now, she’ll know I’m hiding something.

  “Please. I know you’re up to something, Lincoln.”

  Then again, she may figure it out without looking at my face at all.

  “I’ve narrowed it down,” continues Mother. “Either you have a new romantic attachment or a possible scheme to stop Aldred from leading demon patrol.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that Aldred lost another seven warriors last night. I just saw the reports come in not an hour ago. However, that would only confirm to Mother that I’m scheming to keep Aldred from leading his troops. Instead, I keep brushing Nightshade and not answering.

  “You’re not going to give me any additional clues, are you?” asks Mother.

  “I know how you like a good mystery.” My limbs tighten with worry. I can only hope she doesn’t crack this particular mystery. She’d shut my plan down on the spot.

  “That I do. I’ll see you tonight, my son.”

  I turn and give her a goodbye wave. “Looking forward to it, Mother.”

  Mother leaves the stables, and I try to focus on tonight’s event. Everything has to go off perfectly, or I could very well end up dead. However, images of that mystery girl keep appearing in my mind, distracting me.

  And for a warrior, being distracted during a mission is never a good thing.

  Chapter Eleven

  After Mother leaves the stables, I give up on seeing my mystery girl again. At least, for now. Instead, I try to distract myself by returning to my cabin and attempting to review the latest set of parchments from Antrum.

  As ways to pass the time go, it’s a terrible choice. My thoughts ping between my mystery girl and the upcoming show of prowess with Acca…and the final launch of my plan. Nervous energy hums through my veins.

  This has to work.

  I can’t accept anything else.

  Finally, it’s time to hike over to my practice grounds. The light gray sky has turned a darker shade of gray, which means nighttime has fallen in Purgatory. My pulse speeds up, so I force my breathing to slow. When I walk onto the battlegrounds, it won’t do to look nervous.

  My path takes me through the woods. I pause on the border between the trees and the practice grounds proper. Call it an old hunting habit. A predator doesn’t leap into the scene without sizing things up first.

  Rain has fallen for the last few days, so the practice grounds are little better than a mud pit. A few patches of yellowing grass peep above the brown puddles, but they are few and far between. The space is ringed with freestanding lanterns, and the firelight reflects off the still pools of water. It’s rather lovely.

  Again, I take my bright spots where I can find them.

  Long wooden tables encircle the periphery as well, their surfaces overflowing with food and mead. In the center of the green, Acca commanders stand in two neat rows. All of them wear body armor with the symbol of their house embossed on the chest. The Acca crest is a gloved fist.

  Thrax in medieval garb move around the edges of the fighting space, leaving the central area open for the fighting exhibition. I count my parents in the outlying crowd along with the major Earls, including the Earl of Striga.

  I grin. Striga is our house of witches and wizards. That’s good.

  Unfortunately, there are no women here except Mother. That grates on me. Even though the crown is paying the bill, this is technically an Acca ceremony. As such, they determine the guest list… And Acca forbids women from attending virtually every fighting event.

  The thought makes my blood boil. No women allowed at fighting events? That’s yet another thing I plan to change once I’m in line to rule that house.

  I step out from the line of trees. The Acca commanders stiffen their stance and cross their fists over their chests. It’s the classic Acca salute pose, but it always reminds me somewhat of a mummy from Earth’s ancient Egypt. That’s what these folks seem to me right now: just so many dead men standing. That is, until my plan succeeds.

  I stomp through the mud, stopping when I stand at the end of the aisle formed by the Acca commanders. All of them have crossbows slung across their backs. As I walk down the central aisle, they whip out their bows, pointing the weapons toward the sky. This part isn’t typical Acca protocol. I suppose Aldred wanted to show off the new Earth-made composite bows, complete with hi-tech scope and some kind of mechanics to automatically reload more bolts. I shake my head. Demons carry a natural amount of havoc magic that messes with anything mechanical. That’s why guns are a waste of time. Those new bows may look impressive, but when it comes to demon-kind, they’re actually less safe than their medieval style c
ounterparts.

  Did I mention how I want to train and equip these warriors myself?

  At the end of the aisle of commanders there stands Aldred. Beside him stands an Acca page who holds a silver platter.

  Interesting. I don’t remember ordering any silver platters for this event. And I should know what’s included, considering how I’m paying the bill.

  To the right of this silver-toting page, there stand my parents. To Aldred’s left are the Earls of the other Great Houses, namely Horus, Kamal, and Striga. Of these, I’m most pleased to see Striga here. I’m counting on that Earl, Lucas, for some impromptu help when I need it.

  Marching up the aisle, I pause before Aldred. “Greetings, my Earl.”

  He lifts his chin. “Lincoln.”

  It takes an effort not to roll my eyes. Of course, the Earl knows perfectly well how to address me properly, but he chooses to use my name and not my title—Lincoln—at a state occasion. It’s a blatant show of disrespect. I decide to use his Grammys pet name for him. It never fails to drive him batty. “Good to know that we’re dropping formalities, Baldie Aldie.”

  The other Earls suppress smiles under their hands. The Earl of Striga outright grins, but then again, he’s a master wizard, so he doesn’t need to fear much. For his part, Aldred positively shivers with rage. I do think it’s a fine look on him.

  Aldred puffs out his chest. “Let’s begin the ceremony.”

  I raise my pointer finger. “I thought there would be a show of fighting prowess before the ceremony part.”

  A sly look enters Aldred’s piggy eyes. “Oh, I discussed this with your father. We’re dispensing with the fighting and just doing the awarding of honorary titles.” Aldred gestures to the page beside him. The young boy lowers the silver platter, showing how it’s covered with medals.

  My brows lift with surprise. “Medals? Really?” I glance over to my parents. Before, they’d seemed their normal formal selves. Right now, my father decides it’s a great time to stare at his feet. Meanwhile, Mother glares at the back of his head.

  “When was all this decided?” I ask.

  “I was informed just a few minutes ago,” says Mother. “It seems your father and the Earl have been conversing about this while we were still on our trip.” The way Mother says the names Father and the Earl, it’s obvious she isn’t happy about this turn of events. If we had a royal doghouse, I’m fairly certain Father would be sleeping in it tonight.

  I pick up one of the golden medals from the platter and turn it over in my hand. This one is covered in a pattern of rubies mixed with yellow diamonds. “Days? Metalwork of this quality takes months to create.”

  “Bah,” says father quickly. “Those are just some old things we had lying about in the Rixa vaults. Thought it would be nice to put them to use.”

  “I see.” I reset the medal onto the platter. Just one of these pieces would be worth a half-million in Earth dollars. And there must be fifty of them stacked high on the platter. My shoulders tighten as the frustration twists through my body.

  How typical of Aldred. I commit to pay for a few mugs of mead, and he takes it as an excuse to raid the royal vaults.

  “It’s the least we can do,” adds Father. “Especially considering how generous and patient the Earl has been recently.” He pins me with a meaningful stare.

  There’s no question what Father is talking about: the incident with the Soul Slasher demon. “So, the Earl spared my life, and now you’re raiding the royal vaults for him. Is that what we’re saying?”

  All the Earls stare at us, wide-eyed with interest. The Acca commanders are keeping in formation—eyes front and crossbows lifted—but there’s no question in my mind that they are hanging on our every word.

  It’s Mother who replies this time. “That’s exactly what we’re saying. And next time, the Earl has assured us that he won’t be so generous.” If you didn’t know my mother, you’d think her the image of calm at this moment. But I catch the slight tic at the side of her mouth. She’s seething inside right now.

  “It’s all settled then,” says Father. “Please continue with the ceremony.”

  Aldred then starts pulling one medal off the plate after another. It seems that none of them are, in fact, for his commanders. Instead, Aldred is awarding himself prizes. For his valor in fighting Reperio demons. For strength when confronting a rogue ghoul. And my favorite: for bravery in the battle of the evil Soul Slasher. If Aldred ever decides to wear all these medals, I doubt he’d stay upright from the additional weight.

  I stand silently, allowing Aldred to get up a good head of steam before I cut him off. The Earl has just finished describing how he’s receiving a medal for courage in the face of obstinate nobility, when I raise my hand again.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  Aldred flashes his courage medal at my face. “Does this bother you? I didn’t say what obstinate nobility I’d faced. It could have been anyone, you know. Don’t assume I meant you, although I certainly could have.” He laughs too loudly. “And besides, your father approved all these titles.”

  “That’s not what I was about to comment on.” When I speak again, I take care to use a loud voice that carries across the practice grounds. “I should like to challenge you to a battle under the Archer’s Moon. If I win, I can receive any boon of my asking.”

  “Boon?” asks Aldred.

  “Yes, and the boon I request would be for you to end all claims to rights over leading troops into battle in general, and demon patrols in particular.”

  A long pause follows with a silence so heavy, I can almost feel it press onto my rib cage, making it hard to breathe.

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” I ask.

  “Archer’s Moon.” Aldred rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I hitch my thumb toward my cabin. “As you know, I have the book from your archives that spells it all out. I can bring it back here, if you like. A challenge under the Archer’s Moon cannot be refused. If I win, I can request anything at all, and you have to grant it.”

  Aldred puffs out his cheeks, which is a sure sign that he’s thinking things through. His eyes darken when he realizes there is no way out of this. “Come to think of it, there is such a rule about the Archer’s Moon.”

  “Glad we both remember it the same way.”

  Aldred points right at my nose. “But as we both know, the Archer’s Moon took place days ago, during the battle of the Soul Slasher demon. I’m afraid your opportunity to cause me trouble has passed. And I can assure you that before the next Archer’s Moon, I’ll have that silly rule changed.” Aldred returns his attention to the silver platter. “Now, for my next medal—”

  “One more thing,” I interrupt.

  “What now?” Aldred’s jowls jiggle with anger. “You’re being rather rude, you know. I should get another medal for having to put up with you.”

  During our lives, each of us can claim very few moments of pure joy. One of mine is about to happen. My heart soars as I speak these next words. “You’re mistaken. The Archer’s Moon is above us now.”

  Aldred pauses, his hand halfway to the silver platter. “No, it’s not.” He scans the gray skies, searching for the status of the moon.

  He won’t see the moon, either, which is all part of my plan. Too many clouds, as always.

  “Purgatory is always cloudy,” I explain. “Here, you’ll never see the status of the moon by simply checking the sky. And since the moon appears on different cycles here, it requires other means to check its status.”

  Aldred frowns. “Who thinks of things like that?”

  I rock a bit on my heels. “Who, indeed?”

  How I love it when a plan moves forward like clockwork.

  I gesture toward Lucas, the Earl of Striga. “As the leading wizard in our lands, would you mind casting a quick spell to show us the state of Purgatory’s moon?”

  Lucas shares my resentment of Aldred, on the sly, of course. The Earl of S
triga steps forward. “As you command, my Prince.”

  Like all witches and wizards of Striga, Lucas wears long purple robes with the insignia of a pentagram woven on his chest. Long gray braids trail down his back, the length decorated with beads of spell achievement. He lifts his hands under his chin.

  “One.” He releases a slow breath over his open palms.

  “Two.” Another breath.

  “Three.” This time when Lucas exhales, his breath comes out as rings of purple smoke. Magic. The mist congeals onto his palms, taking the form of a lilac-colored dove. Lucas lifts his arms, and the dove flies off toward the skies.

  Aldred folds his arms over his chest. “Is that it?”

  Lucas tilts his head, making his dreads clink together behind him. “Give it a moment.”

  The magic bird soars higher, its small form disappearing into the clouds. For a moment, it seems as if nothing will happen.

  Then, a single point in the sky takes on a purple hue as well. From that one spot, the affect spreads out in concentric waves until the entire sky seems to be lilac-colored.

  “You’ll scare the locals,” huffs Aldred.

  Lucas sniffs. “I’m not a first-time mage. Only we can see this spell.”

  The clouds grow thinner, the purple color fading into a single sheet of night sky. And there, hovering above our heads, hangs a thin moon.

  An Archer’s Moon.

  Aldred stomps his foot. “I know the status of the Archer’s Moon on Earth, like every self-respecting member of the House of Acca. But why would I care about Purgatory? The people here are all demons that we aren’t allowed to kill. It’s a wasteland for our kind, so why would I know if its moon moves on a different cycle? This is ridiculous.”