Chapter 3 #3
“It was good,” shrugged Maeve. “Although, I don’t much care for the Orator’s Office as a whole.”
Rowan nearly chuckled. “I cannot fault you there. Government suited me about the same. Did you meet Daniel Rodríguez?”
Maeve nodded. “I did.”
“He seemed eager to meet you after I told him about your memory charm abilities.”
“He didn’t believe I could withstand a collapsing memory, Sir,” said Maeve taking her seat. “And still come out with the truth.”
“I trust you proved him wrong,” said Rowan solemnly.
“Of course, Sir,” said Maeve, careful to hide her pride.
Rowan didn’t respond well to arrogant and cocky students.
He gave her a militant like nod and motioned her towards her seat.
In Worldly Studies, which was Maeve’s least favorite subject currently, they had a long discussion about the current Human War.
She got enough of those lessons from her Father.
The Magical World stayed out of such affairs for the most part, but this war was different.
There were rumors that many Magical families felt it was the Magical Militia’s duty to extend a hand.
But Politics and relations with the Human Government were tricky, as her Father ceaselessly reminded her.
Never the less, the Magicals were intertwined in the war.
“Has anyone found Kietel?”
Maeve’s eyes moved slowly to the Draconem Student that had spoken.
“The allegations that Kietel has played a role in aiding the German human army in their civilian attacks is purely speculation,” said Professor Wadsworth. “Now, on with todays’s lesson.”
Maeve knew that was a lie. The truth wasn’t public knowledge, and the Magical papers like the Daily Divination, which were considering the most reputable by the Double O, sure as hell wasn’t going to print in the papers that a Supreme Magical had gone rouge, much less one from their own office.
That weekend, early in the morning, Maeve headed to The Wings, a letter to her Father in hand.
He would be wanting to know the arrangements she had made to remedy her Alchemy problem, though she decidedly left out that the plan included a handsome young man.
Arguably the most handsome one at school.
Her Father had nearly fainted over the summer when she waltzed “a little too closely” at a party with Alphard Mavros, so she felt it best not to perpetuate any anxiety he might have.
She reached the base of the winding stone spiral staircase to what was once a tower full of owls, ravens, and hawks. Before the invention of the Letter Desk Charm, Magicals strictly corresponded through birds, or “on the wings,” a phrase which remained despite the modern use of a writing desk.
At the top of the tower were a few ravens and a brown barn owl. They perched on small carved archways of all sizes that stretched high into the tower. Now most of those archways sat empty. And The Wings was filled with chestnuts stained writing desks.
Maeve placed the letter to her father on one of them. It disappeared with a POP, and realms away at Sinclair Estates appeared on her father’s own writing desk.
Malachite was unsurprisingly on time for their tutoring lesson, holding open the door to the library for her. Once they were seated in Maeve’s preferred corner, they began working quickly. After about an hour of nothing but Alchemy theory, Mal veered off topic.
“In terms of your Charms work, I’d like to ask you something.”
“Sure.” Maeve withdrew from her parchment.
“Was it a memory renewal charm?”
Maeve smiled. If there was one thing she would talk freely about, it was this.
Mal continued. “The article published in The Starlight Gazette didn’t specify. And I can’t help but notice there are no such credible charms.”
“An astute observation,” she commended him. “But no.”
“Have you considered how useful such a charm could be?”
“I have. Though, I’ll admit I am much more interested in false memories and how to break them… how to make them.”
“And that’s what you did for The Orator’s Office this summer?”
Maeve nodded, proudly. Mal retreated into his own thoughts for a moment.
Maeve brought him back to reality when she spoke. “Are you in need of a memory renewal?”
“No,” said Mal sweetly. “Does the Orator’s Office know you can jump through minds?”
“Yes,” said Maeve.
His brows pulled together. “Did you work on that this summer as well?”
“I-” she started, and then hesitated, remembering that her father had been against her demonstrating her ability to The Orator’s Office.
Mal’s brows flicked up. Maeve sighed.
“I did, yes,” she answered finally.
“How does it work?”
“It’s not entirely clear to me,” she said. “It’s like a door opens, and I just have to walk through.”
Mal shook his head slightly.
“You don’t believe that I can do it?” She asked.
“No,” he said. “I’m certain you can.”
“So what is it?”
He looked out the dark starlight flecked window. “It’s impressive. No one else has that ability.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open, a small laugh escaped her lips. “Was that a compliment?”
Mal’s eyes slid back to hers. The corner of his mouth turned slightly up.
“Merlin,” said Maeve. “I almost can’t believe it.”
“Enough,” he drawled. “I want to see.”
Maeve hesitated. “Alright.”
“I’ll arrange it,” he said matter-of-factly.
They abandoned all talk of her exclusive abilities and returned to the lesson at hand. After another hour, Mal decided that would do for the day, and left her to the homework for her other subjects. As expected, she spent the remainder of her day in the Library.
As much as Maeve Sinclair hated to admit it, her lessons from Malachite were rapidly paying off. In only a few weeks, Professor Hummingdoor had noticed, and much to her dismay had applauded Mal in front of numerous students, for her improvements.
She received a letter from her father, stating how proud he was that she had found a solution. Also included in his reply was a stunning sapphire ring. Engraved on the band was the Sinclair Family Motto: usque ad mortem.
The ring had granted her an exaggerated eye roll from Abraxas and a comment about being spoiled, which Maeve chose not to hear.
Chapter 4
It quickly became colder in on Vaukore Island, where seasons didn’t exist, but the island’s ancient magic allowed them to experience them all the same.
The first light snow had come, sprinkling the ground with shiny flecks of white, but inside the castle by a crackling fire, Mal and Maeve were perfectly warm.
On one of the desks was a copy of The Starlight Gazette someone left behind. The front page read:
GERMANY BOMBS MORE HUMAN CITIES AS THE WAR CONTINUES . KIETEL UNACCOUNTED FOR, SOURSE CLOSE TO THE DOUBLE O SAYS HE HAS ABANDONED HIS POST AS CAPTAIN UNDER PREMIER SINCLAIR
Maeve glanced at the headline, her stomach sinking.
“Will you be participating in the first duel tomorrow night?” Mal asked Maeve, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“Oh, no,” said Maeve. “That’s not exactly my thing.”
“Have you ever dueled before?”
“Plenty. I grew up with it. It’s just. . . not my thing.”
Mal scrunched his face. “That’s odd.”
Maeve shrugged.
“No,” said Mal cooly. “Don’t shrug it off. I want to know why.”
His eyes were fixed on her. They were dark as the sky between stars, swirling like the nights sky.
Maeve sighed. “I don’t know why.”
Mal was quiet, clearly thinking. “I think I do.”
Maeve raised her eyebrows.
Mal continued. “I think you aren’t good at it, and that’s why you don’t like it.”
Maeve couldn’t help but laugh at the accuracy in which Mal had just called her out.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he smirked.
“You’re not wrong,” relented Maeve.
“Your sister, Ariana, she was very good. I take it you never beat her at home?”
Maeve laughed again. “She loves to torture me come dueling time.”
Mal ran his fingers through his hair and relaxed back in his chair. “That is very interesting.”
“Can we go back to studying, please?” Maeve pulled her book towards her. Mal whisked it away.
“You grew up dueling and you’ve never won? Not once?”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Because you’re a better Witch than your sister, in every regard imaginable. I cannot fathom how someone so good at charms and spell casting wouldn’t be an amazing fighter.”
Maeve’s cheeks flushed hot. Malachite had bestowed her many compliments in the past, but they were always laced with some degree of mocking. He spoke genuinely now. Mal’s stare was intense as Maeve regained her composure.
Mal’s voice quieted. “I suppose I’m curious how that came to be. Surely your father has tried to teach you?”
Maeve smiled softly, “many times.”
Mal’s head cocked to the side. “And?”
“And,” said Maeve, becoming annoyed, “something doesn’t click.”
“Hmm,” said Mal. “How old were you when you started dueling?”
“Oh, for as long as I can remember.”
“Arianna is, what, two years your senior?”
Maeve nodded.
“Still, that’s enough for her to have quite the leg up on you as children. And if the cycle never broke. . . ”
Maeve remained silent. Mal studied her response.
“You don’t speak of your mother,” said Mal, matter of factly.
Maeve’s face hardened.
“There it is,” whispered Mal.
Maeve smiled the soft smile she was best at, the smile she presented day in and day out as the face of the Sinclair name was on her shoulders. She learned this smile at a young age, when she learned all the etiquette expected from a Pureblooded Magical child.
“My sister has always held my mother’s favor,” said Maeve, kindly.
“But you hold your father’s.”
“That doesn’t win duels. There’s no power in favor.”
Mal smiled at this, like he admired her way of thinking. “I could teach you, if you wanted. I’ve seen you fence, you move well on your feet. Dueling is not much different.”
“Teach me?”
“How to fight.”
“How to duel you mean?”
Mal shrugged, “however you want to name it.”