Chapter 16
Maeve sucked in a tight gasp as she was slammed back to the Headmasters Office. Her breathing was sharp, in and out, in an out. With a death grip on the arms of the chair, she forced her breathing to even as her vision refocused.
She felt the floor beneath her feet. The fabric of the chair beneath her legs. She was out.
So many things occurred to her at once. One, Rowan had tricked her. Two, the war was about to turn ugly. Three, the human leader of the Germans was dead.
And four, her father should know.
Then. . . Five. . . The worst realization of all. They had purposefully not included him tonight.
She felt ill. No one had ever felt her presence in a mind before besides Mal. And that’s because she was in his mind. She wasn’t in Kietel’s mind.
But he grabbed her like he saw her, like he felt her. She felt him. Her hand moved to her throat, where his hand had felt so real only a moment ago.
No matter how she strained her vision remained completely blurred.
“He’s dead,” said Maeve with a shake in her voice.
“Who is?” The voice was familiar.
It was Orator Moon.
Goosebumps scattered her arms and legs. Sweat pooled at the back of her neck and under her knees.
“Kietel was there,” she said.
“Who is dead Maeve?” Came his voice again.
“The human leader. Hitler. Kietel was there. He-he. . .” Her voice broke as she said, “does my father know about this?” She was aware of the fear that dripped from her voice. “I need to talk to him.”
“I’m here, Maeve.”
His voice was warm, filled with a strength that was unmatched in terms of comfort. Her vision shifted to her left. A blurred Ambrose stood a reach away.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
He didn’t move to touch her. Maeve nodded. Warm salty tears reached the corners of her mouth.
A hand came into vision from her right. Cool knuckles brushed across her skin, gathering her tears. She looked over at Mal.
She wanted to dive into his arms and bury her head against his neck.
Maeve stifled the cry that threatened to erupt from her throat. “They aren’t stopping. Kietel is in control now. His war is only beginning. And. . .” She looked to the Orator. “You have spies in your office, Orator Moon.”
“I have been telling you, Lenny-” started Rowan.
“Magical Militia as well,” said Maeve, her voice dead.
Ambrose didn’t reply. No one said anything except Maeve.
“And you,” she looked at Rowan. “You are a spy as well?”
Her Father spoke now. “Rowan has been aiding me-”
“You tricked me,” said Maeve, hot tears streaming down her face.
Rowan looked away from her.
Mal ignored her statements, like he hadn’t heard it at all. His gaze moved to where she gripped at her throat, and his hand trailed down her cheek until it wrapped gently around her fingers. Her own grip relaxed and her fingers melted into his.
His eyes bore into her, pushing her to speak.
Ambrose was leaned against the desk, his arms folded across his chest and a scowl plastered across his face.
“He saw me,” said Maeve shakily.
Mal’s fingers ran across her throat and spoke calmly and quietly. “He grabbed you.”
She nodded through tears.
“I couldn’t breathe. I was about to die- I think Rolf is dead and I saw-”
“Enough,” said Ambrose. “Congratulations, Rowan,” said Ambrose.“You got your information.”
“Ambrose-” started Elgin, her face pale.
He pushed off the desk and walked to Maeve. Mal dropped her hand and his and stood. Ambrose took her hands and pulled her to her feet. The room spun. But Ambrose steadied her.
He linked his arm around her and made for the door. Where Arman, Captain of the Bellator, stood with his arms folded. The Premier’s second looked to his direct superior and held the door open. Mal followed them.
“Moon,” said Ambrose. “Get to the Double O. I’ll be there shortly.”
The Orator stalked towards the oversized fireplace and vanished into the flames with one last disappointed look at The Headmasters.
“Premier Sinclair,” said Rowan. “I had to know. We needed to know. I had no idea this would happen. She’s jumped a dozen times and never been in danger.”
“She’s jumped a dozen times through minds of students her age and rank,” seethed Ambrose. “Not into the minds of Magical Militia Supreme. If it was by your arrogance, you put her through it you are still to blame.”
“Your daughter agreed, Premier. If you will not put her powers to use in this war then I will-”
The room darkened. Rowan’s face paled. The floor boards groaned and creaked. The fire in the corner rose, its flame now bright blue.
Ambrose turned sharply and said darkly, “Don’t you ever come to her behind my back again. You no longer work for me. And if I had the Authority, you’d be stripped of your titles and ranks and sent to the Dread Lands to die.”
“But you don’t,” said Rowan. “You do not run the Committee. Nor are you even on the Committee.”
Ambrose gave him one last disgusted look before slamming the door behind him.
In the corridor, Maeve leaned against the cold stone, resting her head back. She flexed her fingers and then shook them out.
There was something still pulling her. Pulling her towards someone’s mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling of unwanted magic. Like it lurked over her shoulder.
“Did they call for you?” She asked as Ambrose ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“No,” he seethed. “Malachite did.”
Maeve’s eyes flicked to Mal. His expression of concern remained.
She knew he didn’t trust them. Perhaps rightfully so. Elgin hadn’t wanted this to happen, as if she knew what was to come.
Ambrose began walking and Maeve and Mal followed him. His pace was quick, anger filled every step. Arman followed them in the rear. Maeve struggled to keep pace. Her legs were begging for rest.
“Those fucking pricks,” said Ambrose through his teeth.
“I agreed to it,” said Maeve.
Ambrose shook his head and laughed darkly. “Did they tell you you’d be jumping to Kietel’s right hand? Straight to one of the most powerful dark wizards to date?”
“No,” said Maeve quietly.
“Furthermore,” said Ambrose, “if you had known whose mind you were entering, who you would be engaging with, would you have done it?”
Maeve sighed. “Probably.”
“No,” said Ambrose. “I didn’t raise you to be that careless.”
Maeve opened her mouth to speak, but Mal spoke first.
“Premier, if I may speak?”
“Ambrose,” corrected her father.
Mal placed his hands behind his back. “Ambrose. You are not concerned with the information Maeve obtained?”
“The information Maeve obtained was useless. We have spies in that room. We would have known within the hour. Now Kietel has been made alert of those spies, we will likely lose them and he is aware there is someone out there with the ability to jump minds. A fact which I have spent the last ten months denying for my daughter’s safety.
So the war reminds and the worst is yet to come. ”
Maeve and Mal exchanged a look. Maeve’s hand crept to the back of her neck.
At the foot of the stairs were two Magical Militia. They remained astute as Ambrose neared them.
“You’re coming home with me,” said Ambrose over his shoulder.
“For tonight?”
“Until this war is over.”
“No,” said Maeve, coming to a halt.
Ambrose didn’t stop walking. “I didn’t ask.”
“Neither did I,” said Maeve coldly.
Mal looked between them.
“I won’t go,” said Maeve. “I’m sorry Daddy but I won’t. You’ll have to drag me out of this castle by force.”
Ambrose turned back towards her. A soft smile pulled up on his lips. He sighed. And looked up at the vaulted ceilings.
“Poxley,” said Ambrose.
One of the soldiers pulled to attention, slamming his right fist against his chest.
“Premier.”
“Does it surprise you my daughter is so headstrong?”
“No, Premier.”
“Are you prepared to fight that stubbornness in order to obey me?”
“Sir.”
Maeve stood tall.
“Good,” said Ambrose. “Because she’s your top priority now. You too Karpent.”
The other soldier made the same motion across his heart.
“Premier.”
“Arman,” he said, stepping closer.
“Premier?” He said.
“You’re now stationed here until further notice.”
Maeve and Mal looked back at him. He was older than them, but younger than Ambrose. Green eyes and dirty blonde hair and a shiny C badge on his chest.
He didn’t look at them. Only at Ambrose.
“If you insist on staying here,” said Ambrose as he stepped back towards her, “I’ll have them breathing down your neck.”
“Fine,” said Maeve. “I can handle them.”
Ambrose loosed a laugh. “I have no doubt.” He turned to Mal and extended his hand. “Malachite.”
Mal took it and their grip lingered.
“You are welcome at my table anytime. I am grateful for your service to my daughter.”