Chapter 63
Reeve’s fist pounded relentlessly against the Magical barrier keeping him from Maeve. Her blood coated the ground around her in a halo pool.
“Hello, Reeve.”
He turned. Mal stood behind him. His skin was no longer dull and lifeless. He was glowing with radiant Magic. And green eyes.
He’d seen those eyes before.
“No,” breathed Reeve.
Mal smiled in a feline way. “Don’t worry. I won’t let her die.”
He slipped past the barrier separating them and Maeve with ease, and turned back towards Reeve.
“Return to Aterna. I will call upon you when it’s time to finally give me that crown you are so against wearing.” He chuckled and turned back towards Maeve. He stepped through her blood without concern, and placed his hand on her chest. They Obscured out of Mount Morte, leaving nothing but a crimson stain of doom.
Crystalmore shook.
Eryx and Mely exchanged a look. She was nearly green in the face.
“If you’re going to vomit again, please go in the other room,” said Eryx.
“You reek of death,” she muttered.
Eryx made an exasperated look. “You are the only one death affects.”
The ground beneath them shook once more, rippling the liquid in their pale colored goblets.
“Go easy on her, Eryx,” said Drystan. “It’s not her fault she can sense such things.”
Mely didn’t smile at his mocking tone.
“What about those Dreaded Dead?” Asked Drystan. “I killed at least fifty. Can you sense them too?”
“Yes,” she said darkly.
Drystan’s smile faded.
The palace shook again.
Eryx groaned, ignoring Mely and Drystan. “I wish he’d hurry up and get it out of his system,” muttered Eryx.
“Would you like to know who they were? Before Dark Magic fueled their never-ending nightmare?”
Eryx interjected. “I’d be more concerned with your High Lord, who likely wants to pitch you off the highest crystal tower right now.”
Mely frowned and nearly gagged once more, but found it difficult to argue with him.
With one final quaking shake, Crystalmore stilled. A moment later, Reeve breezed through the doors.
Mely opened her mouth to speak, but as the High Lord’s death toll slammed into her, she reeled and bent over the small trash can beside her chair.
Reeve slid into the chair and braced his arms on the table. Mely wiped her lips with a handkerchief and sat straight.
“You said you could sense her,” said Reeve. “That means that she was dead when I put my sword through her three hundred years ago.”
Mely looked down at the table between them. “I could feel her. . .”
Reeve’s head lowered. “And now?”
Mely hesitated. “She is. . .changed.”
“She’s no longer dead?” Asked Eryx.
Mely gave him a trepidatious glance.
“I don’t think she ever was,” said Reeve darkly.
“No,” argued Mely. “I felt her. I know what I felt.”
“No,” said Reeve. “You don’t. At her core, the core of Shadow Magic, is deception. I was a fool for believing any of it. What is three hundred more years for an ancient being of darkness? It was nothing for her to lie in wait for another to possess.”
“Is the Sinclair girl dead?” Asked Eryx.
“No,” said Reeve.
“You said you watched Maeve bleed out?” Asked Drystan carefully.
Reeve nodded. “I did.”
A moment passed between them.
“Why her blood?” Asked Mely.
Reeve’s mouth remained closed. Even if he wanted to divulge such a secret to them, the Magic binding his tongue made sure he couldn’t.