Chapter 18
Maeve was so busy studying that she hadn’t seen Mal, except in passing, since the night they were caught in the Restricted Area.
The previous night when she finished her Paragon duty, she spotted Mal and his usual gang of ever worshipping Serpentine students entering Professor Hummingdoor’s office late in the evening.
This was a regular occurrence for Hummingdoor and his favorite Serpentine. With Mal being, arguably, at the top of the list.
It had, however, been pleasing to find out that Grisham lost his spot on the fencing team, was given detention until the end of term, and was banned from the Dueling Club for his attempted attack on Maeve.
“Have fun at your little boys’ club last night?” Maeve asked Mal, feigning a smile as he sat opposite her in the library.
Mal smirked back. “We talked about you, actually, Sinclair.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I believe Professor Hummingdoor called you ‘a waste in Volaticus.’ That you belonged in Serpentine.”
Maeve frowned at the satisfied look on Mal’s face.
“I took up for you, though.”
“Right,” laughed Maeve, dipping her quill in her inkwell.
“I told him you weren’t a waste in anything.”
The scratching of her quill stopped. Mal’s voice wasn’t arrogant. He wasn’t gloating over her. Maeve was taken aback by the genuine way he spoke. His face was stoic, but sincere.
“Thank you,” was all Maeve could muster.
“You’re welcome.”
A moment of silence passed between them, but Maeve couldn’t help herself from continuing to pry.
“What else was said about me?”
“Abraxas said he was certain you’d get Head Girl next year. Hummingdoor agreed,” said Mal. “He also said he was certain he had seen more growth in you this term than most any student in his recent memory.”
This satisfied Maeve greatly.
“He spoke fondly of your brother.”
Maeve’s breath caught.
“I’m sure.” Maeve resumed her writing once more. “Those boys hang on your every word. Follow your every whim. You jump and they don’t even ask how high they just start flinging themselves in the air, hoping to be the highest. You’ll do great in the Bellator Sector.”
He smiled. She didn’t.
“It’s fucking annoying,” she finished.
He didn’t hesitate to say with a velvet tone. “Don’t be bitter because I stole your sweet Brax.”
“Don’t call him that, only I can call him that, no you didn’t, and don’t say I’m not right.”
“I never said you weren’t right.”
“And Merlin forbid they not adore absolutely every little thing about you. That’s why you’re always dressed so-”
perfect
-“neat,” she finished.
He hesitated. “Neat?” He repeated dryly. “Have I offended you, Sinclair?”
Maeve looked back down at her work. It vanished with the snap of his fingers.
She looked up at him. “I’m studying.”
“You’re studying spells you already know. Magic you can already dominate.”
“And?”
“How old were you when you first jumped minds?”
“I was four.”
“Four,” he repeated. “Four years old performing unheard of and unprecedented Magic that there is no record of. And even with the knowledge that it is doable, you are the only one able to perform it, no matter how hard the rest of us may try.”
“Do you have a point?”
“Don’t you think you should be trying to do more?”
“I didn’t try to jump when I was four, it just happened. My mother was screaming at Zimsy and I wanted it to stop.”
“And you think that means you can’t do more now? Because I disagree-”
“Is that what you tell your boys?” She muttered.
“Don’t interrupt me,” said Mal. “And yes. It is.”
Maeve placed her hands in her lap. “And what do they say? What do they care?”
Mal’s eyes were dark and calm, like deep midnight waters. “They see you, Maeve.”
She was silent for a moment and answered his earlier question. “I am trying other things.”
“I’m not talking about that little memory spell you already published.”
“I know,” said Maeve. “I’m not either.”
“Good,” said Maeve. “Tell me about them.”
And so she did. She told him what little she could. What little ideas she had. Practical Magic Charms were dependent on many factors. She told him what she had dabbled in, what she was confident she could accomplish.
Once he was satisfied, he looked at her with a proud, but challenging expression. And then he changed the subject entirely.
“I’d like for you to come with me to search for my family.”
She knew the weight of such a request.
She nodded silently.
“Good.” He leaned back into his chair.
“I wonder, though,” started Maeve. “If your Mother lived there, perhaps your father did too.”
Mal had, of course, already thought of this and merely grimaced.
Maeve spoke softly. “That’s why you want me to come.”
“If he’s there, Maeve. . .” She had never heard Mal speak quite so darkly. “If my disgusting father is there, I will need the best memory alteration there is.”
“Well,” said Maeve. “There is no one better than me.”
Mal met her gaze and returned the smirk that lingered on her lips.?
“Alright. I have an idea,” said Maeve, offhandedly, as she and Mal walked from the Herbology and Alchemy Greenhouses back down to the castle. “What if you come spend the summer at my house?”
Mal couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.
“Think about it,” continued Maeve. “All the parties my father throws, all the high ups, wealthiest purebloods and Double O officials- it could be your introduction to them. A way into that world. Not to mention Father’s expansive knowledge of the Magical Arts, his library, and the entire basement of the house- dedicated to Dark Magical artifacts, objects, and readings. ”
Mal stopped walking. She turned back to him. “Basement?” He asked.
“Oh, yes. Thrilled me as a child. I snuck down there all the time.”
“What’s down there that can’t be in his office or his library?”
“Mostly family heirlooms, banned books, things the Double O has deemed ‘illegal.’ No one is allowed down there, or so says my Mother. Like I said, it didn’t stop me.”
Mal scoffed. “So, what makes you think I’ll step foot anywhere near it?”
“Is being one of the most powerful wizards alive not enough? No, you’ll make your way down there on your charm alone, I figure.”
Satisfied with this answer, Mal badgered her no more about the basement at Sinclair Estates and gladly accepted her offer. Maeve wrote to her father On the Wings that afternoon asking permission for Mal’s stay.
“Where will you tell him you’re going when we go to Ragsling Village?” Mal asked her the following day in Defensive Magic.
Maeve shrugged. “Nowhere. I’ll say you and I are making a quick stop on the way in, and it shouldn’t take but an extra day to get it done.”
Mal eyed her.
“What?
“Nothing.” He smiled. Not a real smile.
Maeve shrugged flippantly. “I mean, you don’t intend on sticking around, do you?”
“No,” he said grimly.
Every Professor seemingly felt the need to cram in as much new information as possible in their final week of schooling. Maeve had a stack of essays to finish on top of preparing for the final exams in the coming days.
In Defensive Magic, Headmaster Elgin decided the last minute was the perfect time to teach them about the most dangerous creatures one could encounter while battling the dark arts of Magic. Thanks to their Restricted Area readings Maeve already knew about most of them.
“Manticores are actually capable of human speech,” said Elgin.
Maeve recalled reading that hundreds of years ago, a manticore escaped its execution because of how horribly vicious it was. Not even the most trained Bellator could hold it captive.
“The Black-fanged Fire Ground Viper,” said Elgin, “often referred to by Bellator as ‘little viper,’ due to its small and innocent appearance, yet venomous nature and deadly bite. . .”
Mal leaned towards her, his lips close to her ear. “Perhaps that’s what I should refer to you as,” whispered Mal, “little viper.”
This caused an involuntary twist inside Maeve’s stomach. She attempted to act unaffected. She bit her bottom lip as his nose brushed against her cheek.
She resisted the urge to grab the back of her neck as warmth slipped from her skin and that reoccurring eerie feeling slipped into her spine. The sensation came and went quickly. But there was no doubt in her mind: it was the same Magic from the night she last jumped minds.
She didn’t mention it to anyone. Not even Mal. And certainly not her Father, whom she knew would react dramatically.
On the final dueling event of the term, and the Dueling Hall was filled with students celebrating the end of another school year.
Maeve dueled Lavinia and won. Lavinia swore rather loudly upon defeat, for which Larliesl took ten merits from Volaticus.
And then an extra five when it occurred to him that she was Head Girl.
Maeve and Abraxas were seated in two large armchairs near the middle of the Hall, drinking lemon fizzles.
They were currently cackling at two second-year twins, who hit one another simultaneously with the Lingualigatum Spell.
This effectively glued their tongues to the tops of their mouths, making each spell they cast after that absolutely ridiculous.
Professor Larliesl called their duel a draw and sent them to the Healing Wing.
It was Mal and Jake Pile’s turn to duel and close out the evening. Larliesl called them to the stage. Mal took his place, but Jake was nowhere to be seen. Larliesl called for him again. And once more.
“He was ‘ere earlier, Professor. I know I saw ‘em,” said Freddy Jones.
A few other students agreed they had seen Jake only moments ago.
“Drat,” said Larliesl.
“If I may make a suggestion, sir, “said Mal charmingly. Larliesl waved his hand, signaling for Mal to continue.
“Sinclair,” said Mal matter-of-factly.
There was a collectively excited gasp from the room.
Maeve’s head whipped to Mal, who stood smiling handsomely at her.
“OH!” Larliesl nearly jumped. “Miss Sinclair?” He called for her.
“Here, sir,” Maeve called back, her eyes still on Mal.
A smile tugged at her lips. She was disappointed in herself for not having seen this coming. She stood and walked towards Larliesl.
“Would you mind?” Larliesl asked her, extending his hand to help her up onto the circular platform. She met eyes with Abraxas, who gave her a wink.
Maeve tossed her hair behind her shoulder and locked eyes with Mal. “It would be an honor.”
News traveled quickly about their duel. So quick, in fact, that by the time Maeve arrived in Volaticus Tower, she was bombarded by questions from students that didn’t even attend the duel. Arman had slipped through the doorway of the dueling hall just in time to silently watch them.
“No one has ever dueled with him like that! I thought for a moment you might win,” said Lavinia.
“I really should get to bed,” said Maeve, trying hard not to smile.
She entered her dorm room just in time to see Violet roll over away from her with a huff. She tucked herself into the sapphire velvet sheets in her dorm room. Her cheeks hurt from grinning. Mal had orchestrated the entire duel flawlessly. It was like a dance. He even allowed her to show off.
A green light emitted from her bag on the nightstand. She grabbed the small piece of parchment hastily as, letter by letter, a message from Mal appeared.
Beautifully done, Little Viper.
Maeve held the parchment close to her chest and fell back into the pillow as she bit her lip with a smile.