Chapter 47
The Elven Queen’s presence in The Dread Lands was Abraxas’ greatest achievement so far as Hand to the Prince. She was not the only one attending a feast at Castle Morana. King Kier from Hiems was in attendance with his family and court, and Reeve never missed an opportunity to be the most powerful in the room.
Mal hooked a finger under Maeve’s chin where they stood outside the door to Abraxas’ study. “Best behavior. No outbursts. The three of them must kneel.” He smiled softly. “And you make Lithandrian jumpy.”
Maeve looked up at him. His eyes were completely brown save for a few small flecks of green.
Maeve relaxed into his hold. “Perhaps they should know when to jump.”
Mal chuckled. “They do. But I need them enthralled for this to work. Not afraid. Magic is cunning, and I need them all to believe what I am selling them.”
Maeve gestured towards the door. “After you, my Prince.”
Mal’s eyes slid to her bottom lip and he flicked his wrist in the air, opening the door to the study with ease.
Abraxas beamed at their entrance. “There they are.”
Lithandrian, Kier, and Reeve sat with Abraxas at a small circular table. Mordred sat on his hind legs near Kier. Drystan was to Reeve’s side, and an unfamiliar woman sat next to Lithandrian. Behind them, nearly filling Abraxas’ study, were dozens of Elven soldiers.
Lithandrian stood gracefully with a smile. “Apologies, Dread Prince,” she said. “They insisted on escorting their Queen.”
Her gold and white hair spiraled down her shoulders in tight ringlets. A dainty silver tiara sat atop her head. Silken fabric draped from her sleeves and pooled at the floor.
“No need for apologies,” said Mal with a humble smile.
“Yes,” chimed Abraxas, “we are beyond ecstatic you are here.”
Lithandrian laughed lightly as she took her seat. Her eyes landed on Maeve. “I trust you received my letters of regret for your father?”
Maeve’s hand lingered on the back of the chair to Mal’s right as she paused before taking her seat. “I did. Thank you.”
“Oh,” said Lithandrian. “I did not receive a reply.”
“Mail travel between realms is quite tricky,” said Abraxas. “If she didn’t use my mother’s jay, there’s a chance the letters got lost.”
Abraxas looked over at Maeve, a soft expectancy in his eyes. Her eyes lifted to Mal.
Best behavior, remember?
Maeve relaxed in her chair and bit her tongue. “I must not have. How foolish of me. Apologies.”
Lithandrian seemed pleased, despite the obvious lie. She gestured to the woman beside her. Gold and silver jewels hung from her pointed ears, peeking out from behind straight dark hair.
“This is Evelina, Hand to the Queen.”
“A pleasure,” said Mal.
No one mentioned Xander, for that Maeve was grateful. Mal turned his attention to Reeve.
“Where is Eryx?” Mal asked Reeve casually.
“Downstairs, I’m sure,” he said without concern. “Drinking. Eating. Dancing with Zimsy.”
Maeve’s eyes shot to him. He winked at her quickly. Maeve opened her mouth but Kier spoke first.
“An honor to be here, as always,” he said, fawning at Mal between each word.
Mal smiled and turned to Abraxas.
“Shall we?” Asked Mal.
Abraxas nodded.
Mal raised his hand, palm flat, and stretched it across the table. In one single motion, black mist slithered from the wooden tabletop beneath his hand. Sparkling like the night sky, the mist parted, and on the table sat three rings.
“Tokens of gratitude for your willingness to be here and work towards a better future,” said Mal.
Each ring was uniquely different, one much more feminine than the others.
All three screamed at Maeve. They were Mal’s Magic. They were Vexkari.
“The Dread Prince has placed his own Magic in these rings,” continued Abraxas, “and they are yours to use to advance your kingdoms and lives as you see fit.”
Kier pushed to the edge of his seat with gleaming eyes. Lithandrian’s dainty lips parted and her expression softened.
Reeve didn’t look at the rings. He was relaxed in his chair, lazily looking at Mal.
Kier looked up at Mal. “You honor me once more.”
Mal smiled. “You are worth honoring.” He gestured towards the ring closest to Kier. Its band was icy white.
Kier grabbed the ring lustfully. He ran his fingers over the band. “Hiems hasn’t seen Magic in centuries.”
Mal smiled. “Now you shall.”
Kier slipped the ring on his hand, settling back into his chair with flushed cheeks.
Mal’s attention turned to Lithandrian. “And how long has it been since the Elven Lands possessed such a power?”
Her glassy eyes looked up at Mal. She smiled and took a steadying breath. “Many moons.”
Abraxas spoke now. “There is more the Crown wishes to offer our friends from other kingdoms.”
“I would hope so,” said Lithandrian coyly. “I did not agree to come to gain Magic for myself alone.”
Mal smiled diplomatically at her. “I know.”
Lithandrian reached forward, her delicate fingers circled the thin band of Magic where it lay. A deep breath rose in her chest. “I want bloodlines.”
“And bloodlines you shall have,” replied Mal coolly.
Her gaze lifted to Mal, and then to Abraxas.
“My brother came to you desiring the same in my name.”
Abraxas opened his mouth to speak but Mal held up his hand. They both looked at him.
“What your brother desired was never, and shall never, be on the table.”
Lithandrian’s hand rested delicately on the ring, though she did not pick it up. “I am aware he was too bold.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t have other options,” said Abraxas. “There are many Magicals that are joyous at the prospect of a future in the Elven Lands and on Hiems.”
Lithandrian’s finger continued to circle the ring.
“You want open borders?”
“Not necessarily,” said Abraxas. “We want communication. We want regulated Portals between our realms. We want all four of us to flourish.”
“With this Magic, Lithandrian,” said Mal, “your people could even one day attend Vaukore. Magic blended seamlessly between realms that we all benefit from.”
“What do you get out of it?” Asked Evelina.
Mal looked at her. “We too get bloodlines. Some of the strongest Senshi and Bellator we have are part Elven,” he said, referring to Eryx and Larliesl. “We want to thrive here. Not merely survive.”
Lithandrian lifted the ring off the table and admired it more. She smiled across the table at Mal.
She dipped her head in admiration and held the ring in her lap, but she did not slip it on her finger.
“You are quiet, High Lord,” said Mal at last. “Is my gift not enough for the one kissed by the Gods?”
Reeve smirked. With a slow inhale, he pressed forward and grabbed the ring meant for him. It was a dark band with pale markings. He passed it between each hand casually.
“Quite impressive Magic,” said Reeve. “Even I do not understand the creation of Vexkari, and I am scarred with it.”
Mal smirked in satisfaction. “You accept it so easily? When I know it is not a drop compared to your own Magic, nor that of your Senshi Warriors.”
Reeve looked at Mal at last. Magic was tight and tense between them. “The gesture is a gracious one. I do not overlook it.”
Maeve knew that ring would never sit on Reeve’s finger. She had a suspicion that Mal knew as well. But they were all wrapped in a game of crowns and tricks, and everyone held their cards close.
Mal sat at the head of the long table made of deep emerald marble. Lithandrian and her husband sat to his one side, and Maeve on the other.
“I have never traveled to Hiems,” said Lithandrian as Kier boasted his ideas for Hiems now that he had been offered even a slice of Mal’s power.
“You’ll need to wear more than that,” laughed Kier, gesturing to the thin gown of fine fabric she wore. “Won’t she, Maeve?”
Maeve looked over at Lithandrian and said dryly. “He’s explaining to you that the ice planet is cold.”
Lithandrian smiled at her, with what felt like a genuine understanding, for the first time.
“The last time Maeve visited us, she was freezing!” Kier continued, blissfully unaware of anything but his own joy. “She was shivering in that fitted bodice.”
Mal’s cool demeanor slipped for a moment as his eyes narrowed at Kier.
Best behavior , Maeve said into his mind.
His eyes slid to hers as the corner of his mouth pulled up.
Next to her, Abraxas laughed and with a snap of his fingers, the empty bottles before them vanished and more liquor appeared on the table. Eryx poured two glasses. Maeve’s chest rose as he extended one to the beauty across from him.
Zimsy.
She took it from him with her head cocked to the side playfully. Eryx pressed the rim of his glass against hers as they toasted one another.
Maeve leaned forward with her mouth agape and looked down, realizing Zimsy’s little secret. Reeve’s head moved forward, blocking her view.
He smiled at her in triumph. Maeve leaned over Abraxas, who sat between them, and hissed at Reeve. “Why is it you knew about my best friend’s little flirtation and I didn’t?”
Abraxas choked on his drink, nearly spitting on Maeve. Both Maeve and Reeve recoiled as he stared at Maeve, fully offended.
“I’m not your best friend?” Asked Abraxas.
Maeve rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Eryx and Zimsy a few seats down. Neither of them paid her any mind. Maeve smiled softly at the delight spread across Zimsy’s face.
Abraxas huffed and poured himself another drink. Maeve looked back at Mal. Lithandrian’s cheeks were flushed. Maeve’s smile faded as Mal’s Magic swirled around the Elven Queen.
Lithandrian’s eyes glazed over as they locked on Mal, adoring his every small mannerism as he spoke to her softly.
She held forth her hand, pleased with his attention. His eyes never left hers as he slid the delicate silver ring onto her finger. Lithandrian’s eyes fluttered to a close beneath the power of Mal’s Magic flowing through her.
Maeve felt foolish as she watched his charming smile grow as his Magic settled around the Elven Queen. Mal’s Pathokenesis abilities went unnoticed by all those around them as the light chatter and clinking of crystal remained down the table.
Lithandrian’s eyes opened and she looked down at the elegant band of Magic. She held her hand across her heart, with a small sigh of gratitude.
“An easy pledge to make,” said Lithandrian. She raised her goblet gracefully. All followed suit without question or pause.
Mal’s attention was on his newest ally, and so Maeve dared to glance down the table at Reeve. His eyes found hers briefly.
“To the Dread Prince,” continued Lithandrian, “and to a new world of Magic.”
Reeve raised his goblet, his own gifted ring nowhere in sight.