Chapter 39
She paced the long hallways and corridors of Castle Morana. Sleep was a foreign idea. Far from reality. She called softly for Spinel, carrying his favorite treat in her hand. He’d been missing for a few days, which wasn’t uncommon for the curious cat. But Maeve felt less alone in the Crown’s Quarters when he was curled up beside her.
Ismail’s confession replayed across her mind.
She’d known the moment The Double O began scrambling after her father’s death that they were complicit somehow. She’d already come to resent the Committee of the Sacred long before then. Ophelia’s brazen flirtation and desire for Mal was enough to hate her.
But Reeve.
How could he have known? How could he look her in the eye if he knew?
Faint Magic slipped from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.
It was Mal, and he was weakened. She could feel his fading Magic as easily as her own.
Her steps quickened across the castle, until she saw him on his knees just past the Entrance Hall doors to Castle Morana. A dark cloud of Magic surrounded him. So dark it had Maeve stopping before she reached him.
It swelled at her presence.
Watching her.
The Magic was familiar but so unknown.
She held the darkness’ gaze as it swirled above Mal and disappeared. The unknown Magic in the foyer was faint, but it lingered all the same as she crossed to Mal.
Maeve kneeled before him. Her fingertips brushed against his exposed chest. He was cold as ice.
“Mal,” she called.
He stirred slightly.
“Mal,” she said sharply.
He startled at once, trying to slide away from her. She gripped his shoulders and hushed him as his breathing quickened.
“Hey, hey,” she hummed as her fingers moved to his face. “I’m here.”
His eyes bounced across the room, finally landing on her own.
His eyes held a glimmer of green. She brushed it off and attempted to soothe him.
She held his face gently. “I’m here.”
He didn’t break their gaze. His cold hands moved across her own. Maeve nodded.
“Let’s get you in bed,” she said softly.
She moved to stand. Mal's hands moved to her own. The moonlight dipping into the foyer faded slowly and black swirls of misty Magic circled them. It spiraled above them and vanished with a calming, cool, swish, leaving them on Mal’s bed in his chambers.
The thick curtains around his bed were drawn, putting them in their own world.
Mal’s hand moved up towards her face. His slender fingers brushed against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she relaxed into his touch.
His hand stilled, and she looked up at his tired eyes.
“Do you want to tell me?” She asked softly.
His fingers moved down her neck. “There is not much to tell,” he said. “I am succeeding in restoring these lands.”
Maeve looked into his eyes. They had returned to their normal state. “You’re alright?”
Mal nodded and took her arms, gently pulling them both onto the fluffy bedding.
“I am,” he answered.
She tucked herself close to him. His leg draped over hers.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “For the way I acted last we spoke.”
Mal did not reply. He ran his fingers lazily up and down her back, exhaustion pouring from him.
“Please,” she said into his chest. “Please do not ever give more than you receive out there.”
Mal’s fingers pushed under her chin, drawing her gaze up at him. “Your father taught me better than that. I could never commit such a disservice to his memory.”
“Dark Magic is not like the rest,” said Maeve.
“We don’t know what it is,” he replied.
“Dark Magic comes at a cost,” she said. “We know that much.”
Mal moved his fingers down her neck, tracing over her darkened veins. “And yet,” he whispered, “here you are.”
“What did I trade for these marks?”
Mal’s eyes moved back up to her own. “Your innocence.”
“And what did I gain in return?”
A smile tugged at Mal’s lips. “I’ve been wondering that myself.” He looked back down at them. “I keep waiting for you to feel some power, a new surge from them. . .but your Magic has not changed.”
“See,” she said with raised brows. “I broke the rule.”
Mal scoffed and brought his lips to her forehead. “We shall see.”