Chapter 5
The air had a chilly bite to it as Maeve, Violet and Lavinia walked across the grounds to the portal, passing Magical Militia every few yards.
Their faces set in stone. Maeve didn’t miss the apprehensive glances her Volaticus dorm-mates gave them.
Her thoughts were expectedly consumed by the amount of work she still wanted to get done, even though Violet had told her about a hundred times she deserved the day off.
For Maeve it wasn’t a question of deserving.
She would simply rather be studying with Mal.
No.
Just studying.
Though Malachite had made her quite a tempting offer. She relished the thought of seeing her sister’s face in defeat. A snapping sound brought her back to reality.
“Hell-o?” Violet fingers were in front of her face.
“What?” Maeve slapped her hand away fiercely. “Why are your hands always near my face?”
“Because you’re never listening,” said Violet.
“How can she you never shut up,” said Lavinia.
Violet gasped and Maeve smiled wickedly.
“That’s so mean!” Whined Violet.
While Violet and Lavinia were going at it, Maeve’s thoughts once again wandered back to Mal. His duel the other night had been wonderful. Maeve was admittedly jealous of such skill.
Much to Maeve’s happiness, the rumors about Velvetina’s were true. Her new line of winter wear in the London shop was stunning.
Violet picked out a sweater, and Lavinia a pair of boots.
Velvetina’s face lit up when Maeve told her she’s be purchasing the entire line, and she thanked Maeve incessantly until the girls left.
They were seated in Miss Moonstew’s, an ice cream and tea shop after they finished their shopping. Maeve sipped what the humans called a London Fog, Magicals sometimes called it a Grey Sunset, while Violet interrogated her about all the time she was spending with Mal.
“He’s my tutor,” sighed Maeve. “And not even the one I wanted.”
Violet huffed. “Still. You were at the duel last night and you never come to those-”
“What do you want me to say?” Maeve asked, becoming annoyed.
“She’s jealous,” said Lavinia, smiling as though she had just uncovered a secret.
The shade of pink Violet’s face turned solidified Lavinia’s accusation.
“Oh bloody hell,” said Maeve, grimacing. “Is that why you’ve been up my ass lately?”
Lavinia’s jaw dropped and Violet’s jaw clenched.
“Maeve!” Hissed Violet, her eyes darting around the shop.
“I didn’t mean to-” started Lavinia looking concerned, but Maeve cut her off with a raised hand.
“It doesn’t matter Patty, I’m not mad. It’s just funny that I couldn’t see it before,” said Maeve in an icy tone.
Violet swallowed hard and put on a brave face. “I know you don’t even like him like that. Everyone knows you fancy Alphard Mavros.”
“Keep your voice down,” warned Maeve as a few heads had turned their way upon the mention of Alphard’s name.
“But I guess you’ve moved on now that Alphard has left school,” Violet whispered, looking away from Maeve.
“I doubt that’s true,” said Lavinia, attempting to diffuse the tension. “Besides, it’s not even worth your time, Vi. In three years he barely pays girls attention for long. He’s too focused on his studies. And remember what happened to. . .”
Lavinia didn’t finish her sentence, for which Maeve was grateful. Violet frowned at Maeve, and sipped her tea silently for the remainder of their time at Miss Moonstrew’s.
In less than an hour, Maeve grew bored and made an excuse to head back to the portal. This caused much whining from Violet, which Maeve promptly ignored.
Maeve walked in silence down the narrow alleys of Magical shops and restaurants.
Once, she was told, there was a great Kingdom that was theirs. Much like the humans had on Earth. Vast cities with Magical flowing freely. Now they were bound to a life in hiding. On a planet that wasn’t home.
But the shops in London and Paris, New York and Milan were glamoured away, undetectable to a human.
She turned down another street, which opened up into a small park with stone archways and a fountain.
The Magical Militia meant to provide the portal back to Vaukore were across the grassy lawn. They didn’t acknowledge her arrival as she approached them. They carried on with their own conversation.
“I’d like to go back to the school,” she said.
They fell silent and looked at her.
“The portal doesn’t open back up for another hour,” replied one of the soldiers. The tallest among them. “Miss Sinclair.”
He only said that to make sure she knew he knew who she was. Maeve smiled at this.
“What’s your name?”
“Nigel Ferrmont,” he said.
“Is that French?” She asked.
He nodded.
“But you sound British.”
“Born and raised.”
“Where?”
The soldiers behind him exchanged small glances.
“Here. In London,” he replied. “Your Father taught me in school.”
Maeve beamed. “Then you must be a Supreme.”
Nigel flicked the bright shiny S on his uniform. “Are you?”
The men behind him stiffened.
Maeve was silent for a moment.
“No,” was all she said.
“I have heard otherwise,” said Nigel casually.
“Maeve!”
She turned. Abraxas was jogging across the grass towards her.
“I’ve taken enough of your time,” started Maeve but Nigel held up his palm.
“Hop to it boys,” he said.
The portal spiraled into existence between them as Abraxas reached her side.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of your Saturday, Miss Sinclair,” said Nigel.
Maeve looked at the portal, and then back up at Nigel.
“Thank you,” she said.
Abraxas linked his arm with hers and they stepped through into the uncomfortable in-between of worlds.
Portals were tricky work. Maeve’s father told her that the soldiers chosen to uphold the portals between realms were exceptionally gifted in creating them and sustaining them.
After the air had been squished from her lungs, and they were strolling towards the gates of the castle Abraxas asked:
“Thank Merlin for your ability to name drop Uncle Ambrose. I didn’t want to wait another hour.”
“I didn’t do that,” said Maeve, pulling her new coat tightly around herself.
“Liar.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe there is more than one way to get what you want? Demanding doesn’t exactly buy me any favors.”
Only then did Maeve realize Abraxas was holding himself strangely. And his coat looked rather bulky and large.
“What do you have?” Groaned Maeve.
Abraxas’ pace quickened up the path and he hollered back at her.
“See you!”
Maeve shook her head with a laugh and opted not to ride to the castle, but to take the long walk along the mountain trail instead.
She was almost to the entryway of the castle when a raven swooped down and stretched his leg out towards her. She recognized the silver and black bird instantly. It belonged to her Father.
There was a small scroll of parchment attached to its leg that read:
Dearest Maeve,
I’m so glad to hear your term is going splendidly. Thank you for the invitation for tea in London at your next trip. I can’t wait to see you- so close to your birthday too.
The annual Autumn Gala was wonderful. I do hate that you missed it. Arianna won first place in her age range for duels, with your cousin Ignatius coming in ninth in his.
I also spoke with Daniel Rodriguez, who was quite impressed with your work at the Offices of Magical Oration this summer. He will be visiting again over Christmas. Interesting.
Write me soon,
AS
Maeve walked along the main corridor of the castle absentmindedly.
Of course Arianna won.
It was nauseating really.
Maeve wondered what a duel between Malachite and Ariana would look like at one of those parties.
Malachite would, of course win, but she’d like to see it none the less.
Maeve pictured Ariana frowning, crying practically, in defeat.
Only, it wasn’t Malachite that Maeve pictured defeating her, but herself.
Determination fueled her footsteps as she jogged up the stairs.
She didn’t want to just be good at memory charms, she wanted to be proficient in everything, and there was only one person who could help her achieve that goal.
She found him in their normal spot in the Library, nose deep in writing an essay.
“I want to learn how to fight,” said Maeve in one winded breath.
Malachite didn’t look up at her. He was mouthing the words he was writing, and only when he reached the end of his sentence, and placed a very precise period, did he speak.
“Tomorrow then.”
Without another word Mal dipped his quill and continued writing.
Even though he never looked up from his work, Maeve was certain she saw a hint of satisfaction on his face.
Maeve met Mal the following evening in the dueling hall. Mal received special permission from Professor Larliesl to use it for practice.
“Again,” said Mal coldly.
Maeve pulled herself up and readied herself for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
She wasn’t ready for him as he knocked her to the floor once more with a blast of pale blue light.
“Again.” He spoke louder this time.
“Malachite-”
“Up.”
Maeve pushed off the floor and pushed her hair back in frustration. She was tired. He fired on her before she was even ready.
With a smack her knees hit the floor as his magic slammed through her. Cold as ice and sharp as a sword.
A breath snapped out of her and the groan of pain she was suppressing slipped from her throat.
He was strong. Much stronger than her.
“You aren’t even trying, Sinclair.”
Maeve scowled at him and rubbed her shoulder.
“Your mind is everywhere but right here. The only goal is to block me. Empty your mind of anything else. Now,” said Mal, “up.”
Maeve rose to her feet once more, her hand ready to throw up a defensive shield from her palm.
“Then give me a moment to learn my focus,” snapped Maeve.
Mal hesitated, then lowered his hand.
She closed her eyes. He was right. Her mind was elsewhere.
She was focused on his judgement, the daunting task ahead of her that seemed impossible.
Her mother’s constant annoyance at her success and joy in her failure.
At the forefront of her mind were the years of failed dueling attempts as a child, her Father’s sympathetic, but arguably disappointed, face and her sister’s smug one.
Maeve steadied her breathing, controlling each one, frustrated that charms came so easily but not defensive magic.
Mal had told her once before, if she could slip through minds and create new spells, there was likely little she couldn’t do.
Just because it’s a duel, doesn’t make it different, he had said.
Maeve inhaled, opened her eyes, and exhaled.
A bright blue jet of light shot towards her from the tip of Mal’s finger. She moved her hand across her chest in a flicking motion and shouted, “Skartum!”
Mal’s jet of light slammed into the silvery mist in front of her, pushing her back a few feet. His hex made golden sparks as it bounced into the wall.
Maeve didn’t smile, but looked at him for approval. He gave her a small nod.
“Again,” said Mal, motioning for her to ready herself.
They practiced for another hour before heading to their Paragon duties. Malachite instructed Maeve to pay close attention to his next appearance with The Dueling Club and take notes on his tactics.
Maeve’s heels clicked into the ancient stone tile of the castle and echoed off the vaulted corridor walls as she patrolled the first floor with Abraxas, who wasn’t the least bit concerned that he was out past curfew.
He was going on about some bit of gossip he overheard Professor Hoggart and Professor Warleton whispering about.
None of which Maeve cared about currently.
Her thoughts were preoccupied with the past few hours.
She had successfully blocked Mal. And while she didn’t expect praise for the bare minimum, she was pleased with herself.
“I heard you left Violet crying in a tea shop yesterday.”
Maeve laughed. “That’s hilarious. I did no such thing.”
“Well she’s told everyone you’re a horribly mean friend.”
Maeve was silent for a moment. “It doesn’t matter,” she finally said quietly.
They rounded a corner, and two freshman boys jumped and started walking the other direction.
“Hey!” Shouted Maeve, making her way towards them. “Where are you supposed to be?” She recognized them. They were Serpentine students.
The pair of boys turned around slowly, attempting to conceal a bag behind their backs.
Maeve held out her hand. The shorter boy punched the other on the arm.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this!”
The shorter of the two gave Maeve the bag. She opened it fully expecting a bag of auto-answer quills or some other form of contraband. Even liquor perhaps, which was strictly banned at Vaukore. Much to her surprise, the bag was stuffed full with sweets.
“Is this just candy?” Asked Maeve. “You’re out of bed for candy?”
“He’s out of bed too!” Exclaimed the taller boy, pointing at Abraxas.
“Excuse you, I’m Abraxas Rosethorn.”
“Oh, shut up,” Maeve said to Abraxas. “Detention, both of you, and ten demerits to your beloved Court of Serpentine.”
“Can we at least keep the sweets?” Muttered the shorter boy.
“No,” said Abraxas, snatching the bag from Maeve.
Maeve instructed them to go straight to their dorm. They scurried off, arguing with one another.
Abraxas pulled out an orange cupcake with large pumpkin shaped sprinkles and began eating it.
“Where did they even get that?” Laughed Maeve.
Abraxas shrugged. “No idea, but I’m glad they did.”