Chapter 30
“Good morning, cousin,” said Abraxas brightly.
“You’re awfully cheery at this hour,” she said, taking a croissant off a tray and pouring herself a cup of warm tea.
“The Prince was up early and eager to begin his day out in the Dread Lands,” said Abraxas, nose deep in a newspaper from Earth. “Tell me, how’s the view of the Dark Peaks from the North Tower?”
Maeve nearly choked on her tea. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed her mouth as she looked across the table.
Abraxas wore an innocent expression. “Is it a nice view?”
Maeve lowered her chin at her cousin. A smirk developed across his face.
“Well,” started Maeve, “since you’re such a damn know-it-all, I can’t believe you don’t already know.”
Abraxas laughed. “Too early for a good comeback? Maybe I should let you eat first and then you’ll be able to generate a clever response.”
Maeve held up her middle finger to him and resumed eating her breakfast.
He ran his hand through his silver blonde hair. His voice was genuine when he spoke. “You look well.”
Maeve didn’t look up at him. “I was mad at you, too.”
“I wrote to you,” he said softly. “I tried.”
Maeve nodded. “I know that now.”
“And Mal,” he continued. “He had no idea–”
“Brax,” said Maeve gently. “It’s past. I want to lay it to bed.”
Her cousin’s smug expression returned, and his brows raised. “Clearly.”
Maeve bit her lip and fought a smile.
Abraxas continued. “Poor Roswyn and Mumford–having guard duty outside the doors all week. A torturous existence.”
Maeve looked up at him.
“Do with that what you will,” he continued. “Though I think it would be sinfully egregious if they weren’t forced to hear you screaming our Prince’s name.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open. “I have never screamed his name,” she argued with a scoff.
“Belvadora was on guard duty last night and begs to differ. Though I hear you did that too.”
Abraxas’ bright white smile mocked her.
“You’re evil,” said Maeve, shaking her head and holding her hands up in defeat. “You win.”
His smile softened. “I jest, cousin. I hope you know that no one will ever be in your corner quite as happily as me.”
“And you? How is marriage treating you?”
Abraxas frowned slightly. “Talk of marriage? How boring. Might as well ask me about the weather.” He cleared his throat. “Well, Maeve, it’s green and hazy outside, but there’s a chance tomorrow will be slightly less green and hazy. More misty, if you will.”
Maeve didn’t press him farther after his deflection.
Abraxas snapped the newspaper closed. “Now that the fun is out of the way. Business.”
With the flick of his fingers, a small scroll of parchment slid across the table towards her. The pale violet seal was already broken.
Maeve took it and examined it closer. “A dragon?”
“An invitation to Aterna.”
“From the High Lord?”
Abraxas nodded. Maeve opened the letter. It was addressed to Mal. Abraxas spoke as she read over Reeve’s words. His handwriting held a sharp elegance.
“You’ve been extended a great honor,” he said. “The Gyeoltua was a duel of excellence in the ancient kingdoms of Aterna.
“Yes, I remember from Professor Vinn’s class,” she muttered softly, reading over Reeve’s words.
They were without fluff or exaggeration, written almost as though he’d put little effort into drafting it.
“What do you think?” She asked Abraxas.
“You’ll be the first in over three hundred years to Aterna’s best.”
“You don’t think it’s just a formality of sorts? We invited him here. He’s inviting us there.”
“No,” said Abraxas swiftly. “I believe, given the events of late, the High Lord would like to see what reborn strength the Dread Viper has.”
“You think they just want to see my power?”
“Without a doubt,” said Abraxas. “They can wrap the invitation up in fancy parchment and call it whatever festival they want. But this is about assessing you and Mal against their own forces.”
“Reeve has seen me lose control of my power,” she argued, her chest tightening.
“But he’s never seen you control it,” he replied with a proud grin.
“You’re far too excited about this. We just took out The Double O. He’s probably set some trap for us to ensure we don’t have the ability to turn on them too.”
Her cousin’s grin widened. “He’d never do that to you.”
Maeve frowned at him, and looked back down at the parchment as she muttered under her breath in a mocking tone, “I’m Abraxas. I think I know everything.”
Mal returned to Castle Morana within two day’s time. His appearance in the training courtyard snagged her attention and landed her a stinging jab from Belvadora.
“Ow,” said Maeve with annoyance, her eyes snapping back to Belvadora.
The blonde shrugged and didn’t smile. Maeve’s eyes were already back on Mal where he leaned in the archway watching her.
“Dismissed,” said Maeve.
Belvadora didn’t hesitate to move on to sparring with another.
Mal disappeared from the archway as Maeve crossed the courtyard. The corridor was dark and shadowed as she followed his unknown path. Two corner turns and she stopped, Magic dancing down her arms.
Slender and firm fingers grabbed her waist from behind, pulling her backwards into the darkness. The marbled wall was chilly against her back, but Mal’s lips were ice against her lips. She sucked in sharply at the extreme temperature.
“My,” she said with a shaky breath as he pulled away. “Your Magic is. . ..”
The faintest image of a smirk appeared on his face in the darkened corridor. “Yes?”
Maeve swallowed. “It’s captivating.”
His fingers brushed her face tenderly.
“You are handling the darkness well, it seems,” she said.
“More so now than ever,” he replied. “Your presence here has changed everything.”
Maeve smiled. “Talk to me about this party at Crystalmore.”
Mal brushed her hair behind her ear. “I told Abraxas you’d be wary of it. He insists we attend.”
“You are the Prince. It is your call.”
Mal’s fingers moved down her cheek, bringing her eyes to a close. “He is my Hand. I trust his judgment.”
Maeve sighed heavily under the Magic resonating from his fingertips.
“You do not wish to fight?” He asked.
“I will fight,” she answered calmly. “I fear they have ulterior motives.”
Mal’s fingers tucked under her chin. Her eyes opened.
“Then let them,” he said. “There is no trap you and I will not claw our way out of.”
“I want to be as strong as possible.”
“We have a few weeks,” said Mal. “I will make sure of it.”
She angled her face up and he responded graciously.
“Still no sign or indication of the Dread Stone or Spellbook?” She asked as she gathered her clothes from the floor in the Crown’s Quarters.
Mal placed one hand behind his head where he lay reclined on the bed. “No. He paused and watched her. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. Thank you for not holding it against me.”
Maeve’s head cocked to the side. “What do you mean? It’s only been…two days.”
A look of confusion shifted across his face for a brief moment before it slid into frustration.
“How long does it feel like you’ve been gone?” She asked.
Mal shook his head with a lengthy sigh. “At least a month.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open. No wonder he’d been so eager to undress her.
She crossed towards him, sliding a thick sweater on. She crawled on the bed and sat next to him.
“Hey,” she said as she took his face in her hands. “You’re doing wonderfully, Mal. We’re still learning.”
“I promised you,” he said.
She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks. “What?” She asked softly.
“I promised I’d never leave you alone for so long again.”
Maeve slid closer to him.
“How can I keep that promise when I am upside down out there? With no correlation or connection to the passage of time beyond the Barrier and here.”
They sat in silence. Maeve looked over at her vanity.
“Take the parchment with you,” she said, taking his hand and displaying the wristwatch she’d given him nearly three birthdays ago. “And we will write one another each night at midnight. Tallying the days.”
Mal slid from her grip and twisted his fingers around her own. He brought them tenderly to his lips. “What a clever little Second you are.”
“We can keep track,” she continued, “and if I need you to come home, I will tell you.”
Mal’s chest fell quickly as a small breath slipped through his lips. “What did you say?”
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Home, my Prince. You are my home now.”
She pulled back as his hands trapped her face. Mal’s dark eyes held her hostage.
His Magic slithered up her body, bringing her eyes to a close. He didn’t need to speak a word. She felt them all. But he spoke them anyway.
“There is no love I can fathom that is greater than what I feel for you.”
Maeve’s eyes shot open. Her mouth opened to return the sentiment, but Mal’s Magic sealed her voice. He smiled.
“I already know, Little Viper. I see it in your dreams. It screams at me from your blood. I alone hold your heart. And I do not intend to ever let it go.”