Chapter 35
The dueling arena in Crystalmore rivaled anything Maeve had ever seen. The crystal coliseum sat in a valley carved between two peaks. Seating surrounded the pit high into the sky, and giant pillars of iridescent, dark, smooth crystal jetted up past them, all bearing the Aterna Plate of Arms.
The pale floor of the arena bore numerous seven pointed stars, burned into the crystal with ancient Magic. White clouds billowed across the sky in the open arena.
Maeve looked up at Mal, where he stood at the edge of the arena on a tall platform. She placed her fist over her heart, where, beneath her clothes, lay her Dread Mark.
The ground began to shake, but Maeve maintained her footing.
Reeve stood from his seat. Excitement, nervous and ready, buzzed from the crowd. The deep amethyst stone around his neck began to glow. It grew and grew in intensity until it shot from him, splitting in all directions. The orb of light slammed into a large stone, working as a siphon for Reeve’s magic. From each pillar burst a web of Magic. They were a shiny, pale color, each of them tangling with those around it until the entire stadium was surrounded.
The webs shot out, sending one beam towards one of the seven pointed stars. It sparked into the crystal floor as the shadow of a Senshi Warrior, its face masked, stood from the sparks.
Maeve pressed her magic towards him, feeling for Reeve’s presence in it. The phantom was just that, nothing more. But it was Reeve who powered it.
The phantom bowed at her, waiting for her to follow suit. When she raised her head, the phantom shot forward, a bright spark of flames spiraling towards her. She Obscured and placed herself behind him. With one blow, it shattered into a thousand tiny crystals.
Two more pale phantoms materialized on separate stars. She had no party tricks up her sleeve with these warriors, they had no minds to jump through or shatter. They did not bow at her as one disappeared and once charged at her. Magic slunk behind her, quick and silent. Maeve flared her palm backwards, eliminating the threat.
She pressed her Magic towards the phantom charging her with violet fire at his hands and slammed up a shield. It quickly fired again, sending cracks across her shield of pale light.
More phantoms appeared in the arena, faster than she could eliminate them. With each one, more of Reeve’s Magic hurled at her. She narrowly dodged an advance and soon sweat pooled at her brow and soaked the back of her bodice.
The phantoms grew stronger, managing to clip her shoulder and leg with blows of Magic. They surrounded her, one grabbing her arms tightly, dulling the Magic in her hands. She circled her foot along the crystal beneath them, pulsing Magic snapping across it. The phantoms surrounding her recoiled and slammed to the ground. She kicked her head back into the phantom behind her. Magic pieced its chest as it shattered with a satisfying clang.
She Obscured from the oncoming swarm around her and locked eyes with Mal.
With a winded breath, she raised her fist in the air and opened her palm. The audience grew silent.
You need assistance? His voice rang across her mind, dripping with satisfaction.
Mal mirrored her movement, raising a single finger. With the curl of his finger, sharp ice sliced across her palm, splitting her skin open.
She didn’t wince from the cut as Dark Magic surrounded her, flooding from the sacrifice of blood dripping down her wrist. She didn’t feel the heat of its sting at all.
She turned on the phantoms. . .and unleashed.
Dark Magic poured from her, slicing them all, two and three at a time, as she pushed herself to the edge.
Careful, Little Viper, came Mal’s voice. Or you risk not walking out of this Arena in triumph.
She tightened her control deep in her core, the pulse of Magic begging her with each hit to let it conquer. She Obscured between them all, slicing through each one with two deadly fingers. Reeve’s Magic surged around her, as the phantoms glowed with bright fire.
Finish it, said Mal.
And she did.
Lightning popped at her fingers, slithering up her arm like an electric serpent. With two pointed fingers, and one blast to the floor, the dozens of phantoms, and the webs of light between the pillars, shattered into millions of crystals.
The roar from the crowd of Immortals wasn’t enough to drown out her own disappointment. The power Reeve pushed through his phantoms was nothing to him. It was a fraction of what she felt radiating off his dragon form that day at Vaukore.
And there she stood, panting and barely able to move, while he smiled and leaned back in his seat.
Reeve’s swirling Portal wafted ethereally outside of the palace. The waters of the Black Deep pushed and pulled against the sparkling stone steps that descended into the black water.
Ships with pale violet sails floated across the water in the distance. The Dread Lands were not fully visible, but if she squinted, she could see the top of Mount Morte in the dark peaks.
Reeve appeared at her side.
“For a moment, I thought we weren’t going to get a light show,” he said cordially, referring to her performance. “The crowd would have been devastated.”
“Why did you invite me here?” She asked sadly.
Reeve paused. Maeve continued.
“Just to see what I’m made of? No, I think it was to show off your thriving society and beautiful palace.”
“I’m sorry,” he said dryly. “I thought you enjoyed fighting. Or is that only when revenge is pumping through your veins?”
Maeve looked away from him. Roswyn and Arman were already stepping through Reeve’s Portal back to Castle Morana. Mal and Abraxas were saying their last goodbyes.
“I thought their deaths would mean more,” she said.
Reeve did not look over at her. “Moon’s and Doggbind’s?”
“And Ophelia,” she whispered.
“Avenging him doesn’t bring him back.”
Maeve’s chest tightened as overwhelming nausea swept over her. She pushed down on the weakness surging through her.
“I wake up from these dreams that feel like anything but dreams, and I think only for a moment, but long enough for it to sting, that he is alive. And I am not hollowed out.”
Mal smiled as Abraxas nailed the punchline to a joke. Eryx and his handful of warriors laughed.
“He smiles, and I am glad of it,” she continued as they watched them. “But he did not die in that throne room that day. It was I who was stabbed through the heart. And I desperately want to feel myself again, to feel the steady beat of his affection. But it comes quickly, and I think ‘at last,’ only to have it strangled by the thought of my father’s final strained breaths. I don’t care who sits on what throne. I don’t care what happens anymore. The only time I feel anything good at all is when I am fighting.”
“I am to assume these are not words you utter to your Prince.”
“What does my uttering matter?” She said. “He is inside my very skin.”
She hid them well, beneath high collars and fingerless gloves, but the traces of Mal’s dark Magic still ran across her body.
“With time,” said Reeve. “You will learn his absence. And it will be a joyful memory of life. His death will feel like the dream.”
“I don’t want to learn his absence,” she said, her voice cracking.
They did not look at one another as Reeve said gently, “But you will.”
Her tears betrayed her, as one slipped past her guard and rolled down her jaw. She wiped it swiftly and without acknowledgment. “Apologies,” she said, in control of her voice once more. “I don’t know what caused me to speak so candidly.”
She still did not look at him as she thanked him for the invitation and his hospitality. She moved towards Mal and Abraxas.
“Maeve,” he called after her.
She turned back towards him. “It may not have filled the void you wanted it to, but do not let grief blind you from the fact that they deserved to die all the same. And I am glad it was you who killed them.”
Maeve stared at him for a moment. “I hope you think that of me to come. But I do not foresee it.”
He smiled. “Now you are a prophet?”
“You have eternity to mock me,” she said with a small laugh. “Take the day off.”
“Am I mistaken, and you are now Immortal?”
“Hardly,” she said, “but I’m sure you’ll speak of me long after my death.”
Reeve’s eyes raked over her like she was a meal. “There’s that Magical arrogance you have perfected.”
“You’re disgusting,” she said with a laugh.
“You’ve got quite a mouth,” he said. “Someone should show you how to use it.”
“Bite your tongue,” she said, suddenly serious as her brows pulled together. “Mal will hear you.”
Reeve stepped closer to her, his head cocked to one side, and his playful demeanor gone. “You so rarely disappoint me, Sinclair. But when you do, it’s when you are afraid of him... and when you think that I am .”
He passed by her, their arms an inch from touching. Maeve watched him walk towards Abraxas and Mal. She cursed him under her breath.