Chapter 7 #3
He turned with Harriet on his arm, and walked towards the party, his hands still tucked in his pockets.
Abraxas hesitated only for a moment. Then his face snapped back into its normal smug expression. He blew her a quick kiss. “You were going to bed anyway.”
Maeve didn’t bother protesting. Abraxas followed him without hesitation back into the crowd.
Maeve holed herself in her dorm the rest of the weekend.
Sunday morning Lavinia appeared in the doorway of the third year girls’ room.
“Your room is down the hall,” said Maeve, her eyes quickly returning to her book.
“What’s eating you?”
“Many things,” said Maeve. “For starters, I’m trying to read and there is an annoying Head Girl in my room.”
Lavinia leaned against the doorway. “This was my room last year. I have better books than that if you need a distraction.”
“Pass.”
Lavinia sighed. “Fine.”
Each time Maeve’s stomach growled, Spinel opened one eye from where he slept at the foot of her bed and chirped at her.
“But that involves going downstairs for real food,” she said to him.
Her nightstand was littered with empty chocolate wrappers. Spinel chirped at her once more and laid his head back down. Dinner would be over soon. Her stomach growled so loudly that Spinel jumped off the bed and stretched, chattering at her as he slunk into the dark hallway.
Maeve set her book aside with a sigh.
She hurried downstairs and satisfied the incessant grumbling in her stomach. The essay she had put off all weekend for Alchemy needed completing. Her mind ran through the revisions needed as she made her way back up to her dorm in the darkened castle.
Mal leaned against a pillar ahead. She pretended not to see him as she approached.
“You didn’t come to your tutoring lesson.”
“Oh I’m quite done with that,” she said, breezing by him.
His voice was playful. “Nor your training.”
“Devastating, yes,” she replied without glancing back at him.
“Stop,” he said with an edge in his tone.
The command caused her stomach to turn tight. Her arms tensed across her chest and her neck lifted.
Nevertheless.
She obeyed.
His oxfords clicked across the stone corridor until he was in front of her. His hands slid into his pockets as he predatorily hovered above her.
She avoided his gaze.
“Friday evening. At the party. That was cruel. And I shouldn’t have done it.”
She scoffed, looking up at him expecting to see his eyes mocking her.
Surprise rang through her. Her face dropped. When she looked up at him, something like remorse flickered through his expression. His statuesque features were sharpened by the dim candlelight flickering off his face, sinking into the dips of his cheeks, darkening his hair.
Maeve looked at him squarely and spoke quietly, more sadness seeping into her voice than she would have liked. “Abraxas is not a pawn. And nor am I.”
“I know,” he said calmly. “I said it was uncalled for.”
“I suppose that’s the closest thing to an apology I’ll get from you.”
A mix of humor and arrogance danced across his face. “It would seem.”
Maeve sighed and relaxed. She suppressed a smile.
Damn his charm.
“At least allow me to continue training you,” he said.
Maeve laughed softly. “You are so accustomed to getting your way.”
Mal’s face scanned hers meticulously. Her stomach flipped as a quick breath rose up in her chest.
When his eyes landed on hers he spoke. “No one fights me quite like you do.”
The words slipped from his mouth like it made him hungry. She grinned.
“Someone has to,” she said.
A small laugh escaped his lips. “And you think you’re the one for the job?”
“The alternatives are grim.”
His brows raised.
“Let’s see,” she continued, passing him by and continuing down the hall.
He remained in step with her. “Abraxas, the gossip, will ever only tell you what you want to hear. Roswyn, the hothead, will react without thinking things through. Kash, Merlin love him, will only ever bore you with his blind loyalty. Hendrix, though I favor him, is too much of a rule follower to follow without hesitation.”
“You speak of my closest friends with certainty.”
“Of them I am certain,” she said.
“Ah,” he said casually. “And what of my friends that have graduated? What of Alphard Mavros?”
Maeve’s smile faded slightly.
Mal stopped walking and asked sharply, “what about him are you certain of?”
Maeve turned towards him. “Of Alphard I am unable to speak poorly.”
His expression was relaxed. Carefree. But behind that was the feline way he looked down at her. Like she was trapped.
“Why is that?”
“He was my brother’s best friend,” she replied without hesitation. “And he never laid a hand on me when I was. . . intoxicated.”
He was still for a moment. Then he nodded subtly, like he was determining how honest she was being. “I know that,” he said finally.
Maeve opened her mouth and the snapped it shut.
“Speak,” he said tauntingly with a flick of his brows.
So she did. “When you were apologizing, or whatever, were you sorry you used my cousin and I against one another or sorry for your comment that I use to frequent those parties?”
Parties that three years ago Alphard Mavros had kissed her. Where she drank. And used whatever drugs Abraxas provided. Whatever made her forget Antony.
Mal rounded her and continued down the corridor. “I never said I was sorry.”