Aldred’s dead.
Lincoln drops the body to the ground with a thud. The entire courtroom turns deadly quiet. Lincoln straightens his stance and turns to address the Arbiter.
“I am the High Prince Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, and I have won this battle.”
I smile my face off. Lincoln won.
“So seen and acknowledged,” calls the Arbiter.
With that, the courtroom’s configuration transforms back into how it was before the duel. The stage rises up once more. The Arbiter’s throne lowers until she’s seated back in her original place. The invisible force field around Lincoln disappears. I rush into his arms and kiss his face all over, just because I can.
“You knew he stole that damned stinger.”
“I told you I had a plan.”
“That was an awesome one, too.” I lean my forehead against his. “Only, you know, never ever do anything like that ever again.”
More happy wedding guests come forward to congratulate Lincoln and me. I count my parents, Octavia, Cissy, and Walker. Almost everyone we know troops by, but it’s mostly a blur.
Except for Connor.
Throughout this whole scene, Connor has been kneeling by Aldred’s side. “What have I done?”
Lincoln takes my hand in his. Together, we approach his father. “What have you done?” asks Lincoln. “Nothing.”
I want to add in the “as usual,” but I think it’s overkill. Lincoln’s tone really says it all this time.
Lincoln turns to the crowd. “The excitement is over. You all need to return to your homes.”
The Arbiter stands. “Not quite.”
A chill runs up my spine. Now, this is a total shocker. I didn’t know the Arbiter’s butt ever actually left her chair. I scan the faces in the crowd. Everyone else seems similarly impressed.
“I have another judgment to make.”
Connor rises. “No, the case is over.”
I grit my teeth. Nice. Back-talking the Arbiter. Like that’s going to help.
My parents step forward. Mom has her shit-kicking face on, and Dad looks ready to blow the place up with angelfire. I’m a lucky girl.
My father addresses the crowd. “I’ve seen Antrum from the day the Almighty carved it from the Earth. The Arbiter can rule on whatever she deems worthy.” Dad’s eyes glow angel blue with power. He can be such a badass sometimes. “What is your ruling?”
“Based on all the evidence I have seen, Prince Lincoln and the Great Scala Myla Lewis are the true royal couple of Antrum. For all our safety, I decree they must be crowned so tonight.”
The words reverberate around the room. I wait for everyone to freak out. They don’t. Octavia looks resigned. Connor shivers from head to toe. But the thrax? They seem relieved.
Wow. I thought they hated my guts.
In a surprise move, Connor steps forward to counter my father. “We have the angel Verus here for the wedding ceremony. Who’ll do their coronation? Because I certainly won’t.” He looks pleadingly toward Lincoln. “With all due respect, son. You’re simply not ready.”
The Arbiter steps away from her chair. “In that case, I shall be the one to complete the coronation.”
Another stunned silence fills the room as the Arbiter walks to the end of the stage. I speak to Lincoln from the corner of my mouth. “Does she ever leave that chair?”
“Not that I’ve heard of.”
“Huh.”
Once the Arbiter reaches the stage’s edge, she raises her arms. “Let us cheer our new King and Queen to be, Lincoln and Myla.”
After that, there’s a pause that goes on for like a millennium, minimum. I’m not sure if the crowd is excited or ready to rush off and find some pitchforks, torches, and a noose or two. I’m not going to lie here. I definitely have some deer-in-the-headlights action going on. This is where Lincoln’s years of statecraft experience comes in handy. He sets his hand on the small of my back, guiding us both to face the crowd. Gripping my hand, he raises our joined fists high in the air.
“To the coronation!” he cries. Like me, Lincoln may be wondering if we’re going to end up skewered on pitchforks. Unlike me, he doesn’t show it at all. That’s another thing on my list-o-stuff to learn. Statecraft, which seems to be directly related to my whole “need to learn more about lying” thing.
A rousing cheer echoes throughout the room. I’m pretty sure I hear some people shout “Huzzah.” The crowd rushes around us. A kaleidoscope of thrax faces moves past Lincoln and me, all of them saying similar things.
“Aldred was blackmailing us.”
“We had no choice.”
“Thank the Almighty you’ll be King and Queen.”
All this love gives me an idea. I wave to the Arbiter. “Hey, there.”
The Arbiter focuses on Lincoln and I. The room falls silent again. “What is it you require?”
“We have a list of those loyal to Acca. They’re all to be exiled. Only, you know, they can take their wedding gifts with them if they want.” Hey, I can be gracious.