Chapter 13
“Was it absolutely necessary for you to go telling all of my business to Alphard?” Maeve asked Abraxas in the tearoom at Sinclair estates early the next morning. Ambrose was Portalling them to Vaukore. Abraxas insisted on being included.
Abraxas rolled his eyes and leaned back in the armchair. “No, but it was fun to watch him get all worked up.”
“Oh, shut up. Alphard adores Malachite like the rest of you pricks.”
Spinel jumped into Abraxas’ lap as Maeve took a seat opposite him.
“It’s interesting to have watched you grow fond of Mal.”
Maeve scowled. “Fond?”
“Don’t mistake me. I understand why. You’re suddenly more powerful that ever.” He petted Spinel absentmindedly. “It’s just you used to chastise me for looking up to him.”
Abraxas’ tone was unfamiliar. His normal drawl vanished.
“I suppose I did,” said Maeve looking out the window. “Apologies.”
Abraxas smiled softly.
There was a snapping sound from the foyer as Ambrose popped through the fireplace.
“Come,” he called as he passed the tea room door, clapping his hands together. His boots clicked across the marble tile.
Maeve and Abraxas met him on the balcony. He was suited as the Premier. After quick goodbyes, Maeve and Abraxas were in the snowy foothills of Vaukore Island, looking up at the glowing castle in the distance.
Maeve carried all the books she brought for Mal down to The Dining Hall. She nearly tripped once down the stairs as the heavy stack knocked her off balance.
The Magical Militia had moved inside the castle. No longer were they just stationed on the grounds, but they lined the Grand Entry Way. A pair of them stood stiffly on either side of the stairs on each landing. Four of them were stationed at the dormitory doors.
They ignored all students. Even the Premier’s daughter.
Mal was already seated at the Emerald lined Serpentine House Table.
“Hi,” said Maeve, sliding onto the bench across from him.
His gaze lifted up at her.
“Hi.”
Perhaps it was Maeve’s imagination, but it looked like a breath of relief escaped his lips. And a small smile was being suppressed.
Her imagination. Surely.
“This is everything I thought you’d be interested in reading.” Maeve set down the stack of oversized books. “However, these three on top will probably prove the most useful.”
“Thank you.” Mal peered at her over the stack. “You didn’t search yourself?”
Maeve pursed her lips. “Well, I did. But. . . I think you will have a better chance than me. Like calls to like.”
Mal raised his brows.
“Have you never heard that?”
He shook his head slowly. “Only in that prophecy.”
“My father used to say it all the time,” said Maeve, pulling a plate towards her. “Magic calls to magic. Darkness calls to darkness. Blood calls to blood.”
Mal considered this for a moment. “Like calls to like,” he repeated, his eyes on her.
Maeve’s stomach flipped. She managed to nod and said, “do let me know if you need anything further, though.”
He pushed the stacks of books aside. “I have something for you,” said Mal. “I had an idea for us to communicate more efficiently.”
Mal handed her a rather small piece of parchment. “I have one as well. I’ve bewitched them. Whenever one of us writes the other, the message will appear instantly. Once it has been read, it will disappear.”
Maeve turned the slither of parchment over in her hand and smiled. “That’s quite clever.”
Mal nodded. “Now, I can reach you whenever I need you.”
Maeve’s stomach plummeted this time. “Even outside of Vaukroe?”
Mal nodded. “Wherever you are.”
Maeve couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Dark flecks of light swirled through their chocolate color, sparkling at her.
The gesture was so genuine. So personal.
So. . .
Maeve pocketed the parchment. Mal thanked her for the books and immediately got to reading.
Classes resumed. Maeve got high remarks in Defensive Magic for her counter curses and twenty stars for Volaticus Court from Headmaster Elgin for transfiguring Abraxas into a snowy white owl. No others besides Mal successfully transfigured their partners in class into animals.
The Headmaster commented to Abraxas after class that he made quite a beautiful owl. Maeve bit her lip to keep from laughing. Abraxas didn’t appreciate the comment.
“It’s your complexion,” said Maeve with a grin.
It was weeks before Mal brought up his heritage to Maeve. She was seated in the farthest corner of the library by a crackling fire when he appeared in front of her with an open book pointing to a line.
“Read this.”
Maeve took the book from him.
“Gagner, James: Human: father to one unknown Human son and unknown Magical daughter. Gagner Farm and unknown Magical Daughter sold to the Peur Family in 1913. Debt settled.”
Maeve looked up at him.
“Holy Merlin,” said Maeve.
Maeve looked back down at the entry. There was a small hand-drawn map of the Gagner Farm property lines. Beside it was a black star with Ragsling Village scribbled next to it.
He found a connection.
That was all the information the book contained. The next line moved onto the Gaurteel family.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Mal cut her off.
“When term ends,” he said. “I will be going to find them.”
“Do you think they are still there? This information is from thirty years ago.”
“Like calls to like,” said Mal.
Maeve couldn’t argue with that.
After a moment, she spoke. “What if you do find them? What if the Gagner’s are still there and know where the Puer family is? What if they knew your mother? They could help you find your family.”
“A family that doesn’t want anything to do with me. A family that left my mother to die-”
“Have you considered they may not know you exist?”
Mal hesitated and then nodded.
Maeve sighed. “Your curiosity must be bursting. It’ll be months before summer.”
“All too true.” His voice had that dark quality to it when his mind was racing. “You’re in here, you know?” .
“Yes,” was all Maeve said.
“You have blood going back to Merlin.”
Maeve laughed, “Father doesn’t believe that. He was at Vaukore you know? He was a Serpentine, like yourself.”
She was quiet for a moment watching his expression. “I don’t know anyone with the last name Gagner.”
He nearly rolled his eyes. “They were no one of importance. The daughter was sold as a slave it seems.”
“Slave to the Peur family. Your family.”
“I don’t need to hear about how you don’t like that term right now,” said Mal. “We aren’t talking about Zimsy.”
Maeve bit her lip. Mal was tense.
“Why is there no record of the name Peur anywhere. Not one single book? No lineage. No list of names. It’s like they simply don’t exist.”
Maeve had been waiting for him to bring it up. “Because it’s possible she wasn’t a witch Mal.”
Mal stared at the table between them. And didn’t speak for many long moments.
“I always wondered how could she have died. How did she come to be who she was, what she was, if she had magic at her fingertips. But after years of searching the name Puer, and finding nothing, I suppose I already knew.” He leaned back in his chair.
“If she had been as powerful as me, a Magical like me, she would have been able to beat death.”
“That would be quite the accomplishment,” said Maeve.
Mal didn’t look at her. He was deep in thought.
The next day Mal was distant, reserved and quiet. In classes he didn’t raise his hand to answer questions. He didn’t even ask questions himself.
At dinner, a bright green light illuminate from her bag, whose contents spilled out onto the bench beside her. She dug for the small slither of parchment and on it was Mal’s elegant handwriting.
Meet me in the library before monitoring duty.
Maeve looked around the Hall to find him, but he wasn’t there.
Maeve paced in the darkened corridor later that evening with her hands tucked behind her back outside the Library, waiting on Mal. He appeared a few moments later with Abraxas and Hendrix Fawley.
“You two get promoted, or am I missing something?” Asked Maeve.
“Missing something,” said Fawley sweetly.
“Hendrix and Abraxas will be patrolling the halls for us tonight,” said Mal matter-of-factly.
Maeve’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Mal held open the door to the Library. “Come, Sinclair. On your way, boys.”
Abraxas gave Maeve a wink and sauntered off with Hendrix. Maeve looked after them, her mouth still hanging slightly open.
She turned back to Mal, ready to protest.
The look on his face stopped her. His expression was more serious than she could recall ever having seen him. “This must be important if you’re willing to blow off Paragon duties.”
He didn’t reply. He merely gestured his head towards the Library.
She walked past him without further protest. The door snapped shut, and he brushed past her. All the fires were out. The lanterns and chandeliers above them hung still and dark. She followed him to the far end of the Library, where there was a locked door that read:
RESTRICTED AREA
“Oh, it’s that kind of night, is it?” Whispered Maeve, grinning.
The Restricted Section of the Library was for staff and approved and monitored visits only. Getting permission for access was nearly impossible. And the door was magically sealed shut by order of The Double O.
“Only a librarian of Vaukore can-”
With the wave of his palm the door clicked open. And Maeve fell silent.
“That old ghost is in love with you,” she said, referring to the ghost of Marybelle Marsen, the first librarian of Vaukore Castle ten centuries ago.
Mal smirked softly in triumph.
“Don’t smile. It’s weird,” she said brushing past him.
Once they were on the other side, he shut the door behind them quietly. The Restricted Area wasn’t lit.
A beam of bright light swirled from the gold linked bracelet on her wrist as they entered the darkness, lighting their way. It floated alongside them, its light wafting and waving between white and blue.
“Let me guess,” he said. “A gift from your father.”
“It’s a lux charm,” said Maeve. “Everyone has them.”