Chapter 13 #3
“Fifty demerits for foul language, Grisham,” his face suddenly stern. “And another twenty for being a sore loser.”
Thornburg escorted him away before he could hurt Draconem Court any further.
“Brilliant hex, Maeve,” said Larliesl, his smile returned. “That one isn’t easy to successfully cast.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Maeve, jumping off the platform with the assistance of Freddy.
“Nice job, Maeve. I ‘ave to say I wasn’t expectin’ that,” said Freddy.
Maeve smiled at him.
The rest of the night was just as enjoyable, and, of course, Mal remained the undefeated champion. No challenges.
Later that evening, when she entered the common room, Lavinia punched her arm with such gusto Maeve almost sent a spell her way before she realized Lavinia was merely excited. Maeve rubbed her arm.
“I knew you’d pull that out!” Yelled Lavinia. “I’ve already told Freddy to put us together next week. And I really think you should consider coming to the Magical Sporting Expo this summer. I think you’ve probably got that in you too.”
“Are you mental?” Maeve shook her head and ascended the spiral staircase to her dorm as quickly as possible.
Violet and the other third year girls were not there. Once she settled in bed, Spinel came lurking out from the shadows.
“Where have you been?” Asked Maeve reproachfully.
Spinel chattered at her briefly before jumping on the bed. Maeve hadn’t seen him in quite a while.
“You look like you’ve had your fair share of food,” said Maeve, rubbing his fat stomach.
Spinel wasn’t listening and was already curled up asleep at the foot of her bed.
A green light suddenly emitted from her bag on the nightstand. She grabbed the small piece of parchment hastily as, letter by letter, a message from Mal appeared.
Well done. You made me proud.
Something deep in her chest swelled.
Maeve grinned. She grabbed her quill as his words disappeared and wrote back.
All thanks to you.
Word spread quickly about how skilled of a duelist Maeve had become. And that she was performing at a Supreme level. Abraxas told her he heard two fellow third-years whispering about how she could probably move up to even beating Mal. They both got a laugh from this.
Grisham’s teeth were back to their appropriate size, but his hatred for Maeve, which was already evident, was only growing.
Reiner Gupp, Serpentine Head Boy, found Grisham lurking about the fourth-floor corridor after hours.
Reiner informed Maeve he could only assume Grisham was attempting to ambush Maeve during her Paragon duties on the fourth floor.
Mal’s jaw tightened when he heard this. Reiner assured Mal he was given detention and a stern talking to.
Abraxas was sorting through his stew in the Dining Hall next to Maeve. Mal was across the hall with Roswyn, Kash, Phineus, and Hendrix.
Abraxas wasn’t talking. Which meant he was thinking. Which meant at any moment-
“What’s going on between you and Mal?”
Maeve forgot how to chew and swallowed a whole slice of potato. She coughed loudly and grabbed her chest. “What?”
Abraxas let his spoon fall into his stew. “I’ve known every secret of yours since before we could talk. And now you’re going to start hiding from me?”
“There’s nothing,” she began to insist once more.
“He’s looking at you.”
Her head snapped up. But Abraxas was a dirty liar. And Mal was not so much as glancing her way. He was listening intently to Hendrix.
Abraxas grinned. “Nothing, cousin?”
Maeve exhaled, long and tight. “I’m in over my head aren’t I?”
Abraxas shook his head slowly and grinned. “You have no idea. Go on, ask me if he talks about you.”
Maeve pushed her plate away and swung her legs around the bench, leaving Abraxas without a word.
Final exams were just around the corner as the school year was coming to a close, and Maeve had never felt more confident in her abilities.
She was performing at a Supreme level in all her Practical Magic courses, and Defensive Magic as well.
Rowan spent the whole day lecturing on her latest essay on Experimental Charms. He was impressed to say the least.
In Alchemy, Abraxas slid across the desk from Mal and Maeve. Maeve watched as he made what looked like a shady exchange with a Volaticus boy.
The class paired off. The current assignment was brewing a poison and its antidote of their choice. Maeve was making the poison, and Mal was making the antidote. They had been brewing these particular potions for almost three weeks. It was a large percentage of their final grade.
Halfway through the brewing process, Abraxas turned to them both and said, “going to the Hapstrum matches tomorrow?”
“No,” said Maeve and Mal in synchronicity. Neither of them looked up from their work.
Maeve could feel Abraxas’ frown.
Once finished, Mal inspected Maeve’s potion, which had a pink aroma wafting around it. He gave her a nod. Mal bottled their potions in preparation for Hummingdoor’s assessment.
“I daresay these look, smell, and feel perfect!” Hummingdoor cheered from the other side of the workstation. “No doubt one would be cured instantly with this antidote, Mal, my boy. Well done.”
Mal stood leaned against the edge of the tall work table.
Hummingdoor set the vial back on their work desk.
“Could we see, sir?” Mal asked casually.
Hummingdoor looked at him. “See what?”
“If it would cure one instantly, as you said.”
Mal’s eyes slid slowly to Maeve.
“I don’t think anyone is willing to poison themselves in class today just to see how sharp your antidote is, Mr. Peur,” he said lightheartedly.
Maeve spoke before she could think.
“I will,” said Maeve cooly.
The Professor’s smile faltered slightly as his head shot towards Maeve. He stuttered a few broken words.
Maeve wasn’t sure exactly what came over her. She grabbed the poison she made, which she knew to be absolutely without flaw, pulled out the stopper and locked eyes with Mal. He stared back at her with a vacant expression that danced on excitement.
“Maeve!” Screamed Violet.
Maeve downed the contents of the vial in one gulp. It tasted sweet, like crunchy sugar and honey.
Professor Hummingdoor stood across the table from her with wide eyes. His hands were stuck in mid-air.
“Miss Sinclair, what did you just do?”
“You said yourself, sir. I’ll be cured instantly with the antidote. I have no doubt either,” said Maeve, her head becoming light.
Mal took a step towards her.
The Professor stammered, his eyes glossy round spheres. “What if we’re wrong? It would take me weeks to brew the antidote, by which time you’ll be surely dead.”
Maeve’s legs were giving out under her. She stepped towards the wall, bracing herself. Mal moved closer.
“Merlin! I’ll be hung, the Premier’s daughter-” started Hummingdoor.
“As I said, sir, I don’t doubt-”
Mal was suddenly all that she saw, then the room around her went black.
When Maeve awoke, she was lying in the Healing Hall. The crisp white linen bed sheets were warm against her skin. It was late, as the only light in the room came from her bedside candle. She propped herself up and looked around for Madam Kimmerance, the head healer at school.
“I told her she could go to bed,” said a familiar voice. Maeve looked towards the foot of her bed, where Mal sat. “Madam Kimmerance, that is,” he said.
Maeve pulled herself completely upright. “It’s that late? I’ve just been asleep?”
Mal nodded. “I suppose that’s what happens when you down an entire bottle of poison, Maeve.”
Mal’s voice was low. It was quiet in the castle at such a late hour.
“What happened after I fainted?”
“Well,” said Mal, closing the book in his lap, which Maeve recognized as one they had nicked from The Restricted Area of the Library.
“I caught you before you smashed your head on the stone floor, Hummingdoor and the rest of the class rushed to your side, and I administered my antidote as your face and hands were turning a palish green color.” Mal crossed his legs and continued.
“You came to for a moment when I was carrying you here, and then you became unconscious once more. And now here we are.”
“But your antidote worked.”
“Of course it did. You knew it would.”
Maeve sat silently with Mal studying her.
“Why did you do that, Maeve?”
Though Maeve could only see a glimmer of his face, she was certain he was completely satisfied and knew quite well what her motive was.
His approval consumed her.
The desire for his fixation, his attention, for his dark eyes to be on her alone was enough.
“Does my father know?”
“Oh yes,” said Mal. “I’ve never seen those Magical Militia move so quickly. As soon as they saw you, they bolted into action. He was here before I laid you on this bed.”
“You met him?”
“Yes,” said Mal.
“Was he mad?”
“At you?” Asked Mal. “Of course. Cursed up a storm.” He smirked into a cocky grin. “Thrilled to meet me, though. Already knew my name and everything.”
Maeve’s cheeks turned hot.
“His position is more powerful than I realized. The world seemed to stop when he arrived.”
Maeve leaned back against the soft headboard, her eyes tired once more. “He didn’t stay.”
“Kimmerance assured him you were perfectly fine.”
But Maeve wasn’t concerned with that. She knew her father well enough to know that under the normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have left her side, entrusting no one with her well being except himself.
But Mal was there. And her father had.
Once her strength returned, Maeve found herself sitting in the Headmaster’s office, explaining to them that she merely made a mistake and thought the assignment was to ingest the potion.
Headmaster Elgin was delighted that she was alright, and they laughed off the entire situation.
Rowan frowned at her as said that Hummingdoor nearly had a heart attack at her actions.
One afternoon the following week, Maeve informed Mal she was finished with her stolen library books and had no valuable information to share.
“I have a bit more of one to look through,” said Mal, still desperate to find answers in his quest for immortality.
The week dragged on, and Maeve’s school workload was endless. She promised Abraxas she would attend the fencing match Saturday with him and immensely regretted that decision.
She was the last to leave the common room for bed, finally satisfied with her History of Magicals essay.
Spinel was happy to see her climb into bed.
She was almost asleep when she noticed the pulsation of a faint green light coming from the pocket of her cloak.
She was careful not to disturb Spinel, got out of bed, and made her way to the wall where her coat hung.
She reached in the pocket and pulled out the small scrap of enchanted paper she and Mal used to communicate.
There on the parchment was one unfamiliar word scribbled out:
Vexkari.