Chapter 70
“Where is Maxius?” She asked, hoping her voice sounded casual.
Mal looked over at her. “Is he the only thing keeping you obedient?”
Maeve attempted to smile. “I have always struggled with obedience.”
Mal did not look amused. Her fake smile faded.
“Best behavior,” he said.
Maeve nodded and moved to go around him. Mal snagged her chin between his fingers. She looked up at him in defeat as his green eyes slid back and forth between hers.
“Maxius is with Zimsy,” he said at last.
Relief washed over her.
“And where are they?” She asked softly, pushing the bit of him that chose to reprieve some of her worries.
His eyes darkened in their green color, and his grip tightened. Maeve tensed beneath him.
“Nevermind,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
His fingers loosened and became tender. “If he does not bend the knee,” began Mal, “will you take his crown in my name?”
The Dread Mark on her chest prickled, a reminder of the oath she swore. A reminder that there was only one acceptable reply.
Reeve came to Castle Morana alone.
No Eryx or Drystan.
No Senshi Warriors.
Just himself and Shadowslayer hanging on his hip. He sat, with crossed arms, and watched the councilmen of Hiems bicker amongst themselves as Mal sauntered across the hall.
Mordred was close on Maeve’s heels, he and his wolves escorted a hobbling Kier to his seat.
Kier’s hair had grown stringy and grey. His once brown beard was a coarse mess of untamed and unshaven bush. His lids hung heavy, nearly concealing his glazed over eyes.
Mal’s ring on his finger radiated Dread Magic as Kier held a vacant and distant expression. His nails had grown long and dirty.
“I’m sorry, Reeve,” said Mal. “You were meant to have my undivided attention this morning.” His eyes slid to the stern faces of Kier’s council. “But it seems there are urgent matters at hand.”
Reeve’s expression of boredom and disgust didn’t so much as twitch.
Mordred withdrew from Kier and joined his guard of wolves that paced along the hall. Their silent footsteps and glowing eyes remained in constant rotation.
Kier’s council exchanged slick glances with one another at Kier’s appearance.
“Fauna’s fire,” muttered one councilman with a shake of his head.
“Please,” said Mal, raising his brows and offering a smile, “sit.”
Kier’s council took their seats in the large wooden chairs, their eyes nervously shifting between Mal and Reeve.
“Apologies, High Lord of Aterna,” said the same councilman. “I did not realize we were overstepping your presence at court today.”
Reeve’s eyes slid to him. “And you are?”
“Coryenn,” he replied. “King Kier’s royal counselor.”
Reeve merely looked back to Mal, refusing to meet Maeve’s eyes.
Mal looked up at her from where he sat. He smirked and loosed a laugh. “Sit, Maeve.”
She obeyed in silence, slipping into the chair at his side.
“We haven’t even begun and she’s on edge,” said Mal smoothly. He looked her over with a wickedly soft grin and then averted his attention to Coryenn. “My hand tells me you have grievances.”
Coryenn looked at him fearlessly. His second mistake. His first was coming to Castle Morana to begin with.
“I can’t imagine what those are,” hummed Mal.
“We are here to discuss the future of Hiems,” Coryenn blurted out, as though it should have been obvious. He turned his attention to Kier. “You have been away for quite a time. Might you return to Hiems soon?”
Kier did not respond, nor did he even acknowledge his counsel. His distant gaze was fixed on the floor.
“Darkness is brewing on Hiems, my King,” Coryenn continued.
Mal smiled playfully, as playful as something laced with venom could be, and cocked his head to the side. “Your what?”
The councilman’s face hardened farther. He swallowed. “My King,” he repeated.
“Oh,” said Mal with a quiet, unsettling laugh. “I thought for certain I misheard you.”
Coryenn’s eyes were back on Kier. “There are those of us on Heims who have reservations about. . .”
Mal’s hands remained casually placed in his lap, but that didn’t stop Kier’s council from eyeing his deadly weapons with apprehension.
“All sorts of creatures are changing,” he continued. “There are reports of cruel acts and dark sacrifices. Even the trees grow volatile. We are concerned for your health, my King-”
“Mordred,” called Mal, smoothly interrupting him.
The white wolf slunk from behind Mal’s chair.
“Does Kier look incapacitated to you?” Mal asked Mordred, his gaze fixed on Coryenn.
Mordred did not even observe Kier. His glowing, dark red eyes were latched on Kier’s royal counselor. “He’s never looked better, my Prince,” rasped the wolf.
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Mal cooly.
Mordred sat back on his hind legs with watchful eyes.
The rest of his wolves slowly closed in on the circle of councilmen. Their glowing eyes popping out from the shadows. Many of them tensed, swallowing hard and twisting their hands together.
Coryenn shook his head, red flooding his skin. “We cannot sit by as Hiems becomes a wasteland of bloodthirsty creatures of darkness!” He pleaded desperately at Kier. “You are not yourself, my King,” He stood hastily and stepped towards Kier. “If you will not remove that ring from your finger, I will.”
Mordred stepped forward between Mal and Kier, snapping once at the councilman and snarling with rows of deadly, barred teeth.
Coryenn halted, fear quaking through his body. Another councilman spoke.
“You were meant to protect our King, Mordred. What evil has brought you to break such honorable oaths?”
Mal sighed. “Mordred, the next time one of our guests refers to Kier as a king, claw out their throat.”
Mordred’s teeth were still barred as he watched Coryenn, daring him to step forward.
“And you,” said another councilman shakily, turning his attention to Reeve, “you are part of this deception?”
“You would be wise to accept your king’s decision to abdicate to Malachite,” was all Reeve said.
Mal’s eyes narrowed at Reeve.
Coryenn paled, whispers exchanging amongst his constituents. “You are going to hand over Aterna to this darkness?” He asked, terror ringing through his tone.
Reeve looked up at Maeve at last, and did not reply to Kier’s advisor.
“It seems Reeve has not yet made up his mind,” said Mal. “Perhaps we should persuade him, shouldn’t we, Mordred?”
Red painted the floor before Maeve could even look away from Reeve. Neither of them watched as Mordred and his wolves ripped apart every last member of Kier’s council. Maeve didn’t hear their snapping bones or flaying flesh. She didn’t hear the way the wolves teeth cracked together between snarls.
Silence encased her mind, shielding her from the sound of carnage, as Reeve’s voice delicately said, What keeps you sitting there and not running to me now?
Maxius , she replied without a hesitation.
A pause. And then, You don’t know where he is .
Please , she said, Bend. The. Knee.
Reeve’s eyes darted to Mal.
“How long will this go on?” Said Reeve with a shrug.
Mordred snarled, jerking his head to the side in one sharp motion. Coryenn’s neck snapped, and he did not move again.
“Wonderful,” said Reeve. “Now that the show is out of the way, let’s discuss your plans to continue to attack my cities. When can I expect an apology and an agreement you will never attack the innocents of my home again? How long does that game last?”
“Until you break,” said Mal frankly. “Until you yield.”
Reeve’s chest rose and fell. The metallic taste of blood sat in the air.
Mal’s playful demeanor vanished. “Until you kneel.”
Mal’s voice rang across her mind. Show him that new dose of Dread Magic at your fingertips, Dread Viper.
Dread Magic that last time it had been fused with her fingers caused them to disintegrate completely.
Maeve Obscured with a switch of Magic and appeared across the hall before Reeve. He looked her over as she appeared before him, and for a moment she thought something like relief swept over his handsome face.
“Et tu, Brute?” Said Reeve, clinging to his mask of carefree arrogance.
Maeve did not smile. “Then fall, Caesar.”
Shadow swirled around her once more and she was at Reeve’s side, two deadly fingers placed on his throat.
The High Lord’s skin turned cold beneath her touch. His face drained of its color.
He looked up at her in horror.
“My, my,” said Reeve, his voice slightly shaking. “What a surprise.”
With Mal’s Dread Ring on her finger, and the locket around her neck, there was perhaps a chance of her wounding Reeve.
Mal dismissed Mordred. He and his wolves escorted Kier from the hall.
Mal looked at Reeve calmly. “I would say I hate to do it this way, but I do not.”
Reeve’s eyes never left Mal. “Remove your fingers, Maeve.”
Maeve stared at Mal, waiting for his call.
Reeve sighed. “Come now, Malachite, call off your dog.”
Mal’s face twisted into a scowl, but Maeve laughed. Mal gave her a small nod.
She dropped her fingers.
Maeve walked around the chair and faced Reeve. His eyes traveled quickly up and down her body, his mouth slightly agape. A look of bewilderment danced across his eyes. Something he knew, but she didn’t.
Maeve’s face scrunched. “What–” she began softly.
His intense stare dropped. He spoke over her as she opened her mouth to question him.
“So,” said Reeve, quickly discarding his look of shock. “Some meeting.”
“I tried to tell you,” said Maeve coolly.
“Don’t condescend to me, kitten,” he replied with the wave of his hand as he crossed an ankle over a knee. “Now. What’s all the show for, Mal? Your new wolves couldn’t have killed them another time?”
Mal’s charming, although slightly unhinged, demeanor returned, and he tucked his hands behind his back. “I’ve come to enjoy the show.”
“Shocking,” said Reeve. He looked around the hall. “This place just oozes death, doesn’t she?” He looked back at Mal and scowled. “You just had to have the glory, didn’t you? You just had to fulfill some foolish prophecy. And now it will cost you everything.”
“I have lost nothing,” said Mal.
Reeve’s eyes moved to Maeve. “Not yet.”
“Lithandrian sends her regards,” said Mal, “and regrets she could not be here for such an historic moment today.”
“Does she?” Asked Reeve. “That pretty ring you forced on her finger tell you that?”
“Among other things.”
Reeve held his glare. “Bet you were sour when you couldn’t affect me with those powers of persuasion.” Reeve smiled. “I tossed that ring in the Black Deep.”
“Enough,” drawled Mal. “Will you bend the knee?”
Reeve chuckled lightly, and a small rumble of Magic rippled through the room. “An Immortal bends to no one.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Asked Mal with a grin. “I have all but one Dread Artifact. The Magic these lands have gifted me will last forever. I practically am immortal now.”
Maeve’s head whipped towards him with wide eyes. Mal and Reeve ignored her.
“History is littered with crowns that believed they were eternal,” said Reeve. “Immortal you may claim to be, but you do not have the birthright of Immortality. I don’t know what it is you are anymore.”
Mal’s charming smile didn’t falter as he spoke with an icy quality. “You will find out.”
Maeve watched each of them carefully, most of her attention on Reeve, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Reeve’s eyes traveled to her again. “What will you do? Wipe my memory, force me to comply? I know those sweet fingers harbor more power than merely killing.” His voice was becoming dark, his eyes gleamed over with bubbling anger. “And I know that you are hesitant to shatter and control minds because it takes such a toll on you. Isn’t that right? You nearly killed yourself in that self-righteous display of Magic, bringing the Orator here and then shattering the minds of all those disloyal to you. Even the St. Beveraux girl wounded you for days. Such a shame,” he taunted. “All that power and you can’t use it or it’ll rip you apart. So, I ask again, what will you do?”
But it was Mal who answered. “It’s up to you how this plays out.”
Reeve pushed off the chair and stepped casually over the bodies that lay before him.
“Give me something in return,” said Reeve. “You have given the others gifts for their allegiance, I am sure.”
“I gave you a ring of Dread power just as I gave Kier and Lithandrian,” said Mal with a scowl. “It sits at the bottom of the Black Deep.”
“You bewitched Lithandrian with your silver tongue. I desire more than a ring of Magic.”
Mal gestured his arms out, enjoying their banter. “What would you ask?”
Reeve spoke without missing a beat He pointed at Maeve.“Her.”
Maeve’s face turned cold, icy chills shot down her body as she inhaled sharply.
I do not need your saving , she spoke into his mind.
Oh, I beg to differ , he replied.
It was Mal who laughed this time, not Maeve. She was staring at Reeve with trepidation.
“Something reasonable,” said Mal with another small laugh.
“Is that not reasonable?” Replied Reeve.
He looked over at her, the playful and flirtatious way he normally corresponded with her long gone. His tone was that of a wartime ruler negotiating. “My armies for a bride?”
Maeve was about to come unglued. Mal’s Magic hissed at her warningly.
“Apologies,” said Reeve nastily as he took in the angry power pushing to burst inside her. “Is there a bad taste in your mouth about being given to a man in exchange for breeding?”
Maeve’s two fingers cracked together as electricity shot through her body, gathering at her fingertips in bright green light.
“Maeve,” growled Mal.
But her eyes didn’t leave Reeve.
“Listen to your master,” mocked Reeve, taunting her.
This is your last chance, Maeve , he spoke to her silently. Or I promise you, I will not save you.
“Enough,” snapped Mal.
“Is that still a no?” Reeve asked with his eyes on Maeve.
“That’s a never,” said Mal darkly. “She is not yours.”
Maeve did not answer him. He spoke into her mind one last time.
So be it.
Reeve looked back at Mal. “She is mine, though, isn’t she?”
Mal’s brows flicked up.
“She never did tell you?”
“Reeve,” said Maeve shakily. Green lightning swarmed her fingertips.
“I said no, Maeve,” hissed Mal, his eyes never leaving Reeve.
Without missing a beat, Reeve spat the words that made Maeve’s stomach plummet through the floor. “She’s my mate.”
“He’s lying,” snapped Maeve.
Mal snapped back. “He’s not lying and you know it.”
Maeve’s eyes whipped to Mal. His were already on her.
“You think I can’t feel the pull? You think that the greatest Supreme Magical who ever lived cannot see your Magic calling out to him?”
Maeve swallowed in shock. “You knew?”
“And you both lied,” said Mal. “At any rate, I don’t see the relevance of your bond. She denies the Magic between you, so what importance is it to me?”
“What if I don’t intend to deny it?” Answered Reeve as he looked between them.
“Then you’ll die on a fool’s errand,” answered Mal. “She belongs to me.”
His words didn’t bring a smile to her face. They didn’t send fluttering Magic through her core.
“I do not intend to bend to you,” said Reeve.
“Then you sentence your kingdom to ash.”
White light slammed into Maeve’s mind.
Maxius reached for her in distress as a hooded figure held him.
“This is not forever, Maeve,” said the hooded figure.
“Then why is my heart breaking?”
The hooded figure held Maxius tenderly.
“How am I supposed to walk away?” She asked, her voice quivering.
Warm wind swirled around them, settling Maxius against the hooded man’s chest and calming him instantly. He breathed deeply as his eyes fluttered close beneath thick lashes.
The figure’s hood slipped back.
“Because you are protecting your child,” said Reeve, his hand sliding to the back of Maxius’ head.
Maeve looked up at him from Maxius’ slumbering face.
“On your life,” she reminded him.
“In Magic,” he finished for her.
Blinding white light returned, shooting her back into Reeve and Mal’s negotiations.
“Did you think I had forgotten it?” Snarled Reeve. “Your spell?”
Maeve’s hands shot to her head as she wobbled slightly. It was Reeve. She’d taken Maxius to Reeve for protection.
“What?” She asked, barely hearing his words.
“The spell your father told me of,” repeated Reeve.
Maeve’s heart sank and her eyes snapped up at him. The spell she had likely used for Mal to forget Maxius. The spell she kept secret from Mal.
No, no, no, no, she begged into Reeve’s mind.
But the High Lord was good on his word. If he heard her, he did not reply.
A mighty roar filled the hall as black and amethyst swirling fire encapsulated Reeve. A dragon size shadow cast over them. With a fearsome screech and an explosion of Magic, he vanished and the smoke dissipated.
The High Lord of Aterna was gone.
Maeve’s blood rushed through her, sending her skin aflame. He had not forgotten the spell as she hoped. He had not bent the knee as she had hoped.
Mal’s face full of fury did not falter as she walked towards him, prepared to beg his forgiveness and plead to see her son.
“What spell?” Mal asked slowly.
Maeve stopped before him. “Please, listen to me. I didn’t–”
His eyes narrowed. “What. Spell.” His voice was filled with bitter betrayal.
“My Father told him, I did not–”
“I will only ask you once more.”
Maeve swallowed. “A memory spell I created.” She continued her confession before her courage failed. “To alter multiple minds at once. To create a false reality collectively within those minds–”
“And it works?”
She nodded.
The temper that rarely slipped from his deadly calm demeanor flared to the surface. “Reeve knows how to alter the entire world’s memory at once and you didn’t think it was important I knew that? That I had that capability as well?”
“The entire world?” She questioned.
“Did you think he was not capable of such a thing? That you are not?”
“I had hoped–” said Maeve as her voice shook.
“You hoped?” He hissed, closing the gap between them. “You hoped I wouldn’t be absolutely furious that you’ve kept this from me for-for how long now? You hoped that Reeve–”
Gold, spiraling orbs screamed into the hall. Maeve’s stomach plummeted. She gripped Mal’s arms. “No, no, no.”
There were endless possibilities for Reeve’s spell. She prayed that perhaps he found it in his heart to mend Mal’s mind.
But even a lie so strong as one created by Reeve wouldn’t stand a chance against the darkness in her Dread Prince’s head.
Mal threw up his strongest shield around them, but there was no shielding this spell. The golden beams of light sliced through his black wall of magic with ease.
Mal looked down at Maeve. “What have you done?”
Mal threw up another shield. It swirled around them in cosmic majesty. It was futile, for in their next drawn breath, Maeve Sinclair, and the rest of all living things, would cease to remember Aterna, the Immortal People, and their Immortal High Lord, The Senshi Warrior, Dragon of the Aterna, Reeve.