Chapter 19
“Did you hear?” Asked Abraxas. “Jake Pile’s in the hospital wing.”
They took a seat at breakfast together.
“Whatever for?” Maeve asked Abraxas, grabbing some toast and jam.
Abraxas shrugged, with his signature mischievous look on his face. “Seems he doesn’t even remember anything about last night. He didn’t even know he was supposed to be dueling.”
Maeve froze. “Mal.”
Abraxas was grinning wickedly.
“You knew!” Laughed Maeve, smacking him on the arm.
“Perhaps.”
Maeve shook her head. “I should have known, honestly.”
She continued spreading jam on her toast as something soared across the hall, snagging her attention. Her father’s hawk swooped down, landing on the table in front of them with violent flair.
“Hello, Rumple,” said Abraxas, feeding the evil-looking bird a bit of sausage.
Maeve grabbed the parchment from Rumple’s leg. “Why didn’t he send it through a desk?” She asked quietly.
Dearest Maeve,
I’m terribly sorry for the delay in my response. We would be thrilled to have Mal for the summer. You mentioned making a day stop before your arrival? I’m sorry I can’t be there to Portal you home first. But I can arrange to have your things picked up in London and brought home. Mal’s as well.
I can’t wait to see you.
Don’t use the desks.
A.S.
Maeve tossed down her toast and shot up from the table.
“What the hell?” Abraxas shouted after her. “Not even a ‘have a lovely day, Abraxas’?”
“No yelling in the hall, Mr. Rosethorn,” said Professor Webelton. “Five merits from Serpentine.”
Mal was not at breakfast in the Dining Hall, but she had a good idea of where he would be. She climbed the stairs to the Library, flying past the Magical Malita stationed at every landing.
Mal was, as she expected, sitting in their favorite reading nook.
“Guess what,” said Maeve, seating herself opposite him.
He scrunched his face at her happy demeanor and waited for her to answer.
“My Father absolutely cannot wait to have you at Sinclair Estates.” She dramatically tossed her hair, flashing him a smile.
Mal again looked incredulous.
Maeve sighed. “You are happy, yes?”
He laughed subtly. “Oh, yes.”
“Good.” Finally satisfied with his response, she pulled out “A Look into the Modern Mind” and began reading where she had left off. “Oh, and I heard Jake Pile can’t remember a thing from yesterday,” said Maeve with a smirk. “In case you were curious.”
“How odd,” said Mal.
Maeve crossed her legs and relaxed into the armchair, reading her book.
After a moment, she looked up to see Mal eyeing her down. “What’s the matter with you today, Sinclair?”
She lowered her book and gave him a pity smile.
“Mr. Peur, I don’t think you even realize the summer that you are in for.” She leaned towards him. “The parties, the duels, the dinners. The people, the hours spent in my father’s study discussing magic, his prized library literally at your fingertips.” Her grin widened. “You’re going to love it.”
The weather on Vaukore Island finally allowed for a nice sit by the lake.
On her final weekend before their journey to Ragsling Village and then home, Maeve took full advantage of the mild temperatures and sprawled out in the warm sun, reading.
Maeve was not the only student who chose to spend their Saturday outdoors.
Her peaceful afternoon was interrupted by McKenzie Barlett shoving his fellow Draconem Tyler Drume into Mirror lake.
Which consequently brought a few of the merfolk that lived in the lake to the surface in curiosity.
Both boys screamed upon seeing the captivating creatures, scaring the sirens away.
They were the only Magical creature still inhabiting Vaukore’s Realm.
Though, there were parts of the mountains sealed off.
And Maeve often wondered if there were other creatures deep behind those walls of stone.
Maeve wrote McKenzie a detention. When she turned her back, Tyler punched him in the face.
Maeve whipped around. “Did you just punch him?”
McKenzie’s nose was bleeding heavily. The boys around were covering their mouths to keep from laughing.
“He deserved it for pushing me,” said Tyler, trying to wring out his soaked sweater.
Maeve was astonished. “Yes, he did.”
The group grew silent as McKenzie’s mouth fell open at a Paragon saying he deserved to be sucker-punched.
“What’s in your hand, Mr. Drume?”
“Nothing. I swear!” Tyler yelled.
“Yes, there is.”
Tyler Drume looked confused. “There’s really nothing-”
“Nothing,” said Maeve. “So if I ask you to cast a spell for me, can you?”
Tyler nodded.
“Show me,” said Maeve.
Tyler looked sideways at McKenzie, who was equally confused as blood dripped from his nose. He did as Maeve said and performed a shield charm perfectly.
“Wonderful,” said Maeve. “Do you truly still believe there is nothing in your hand?”
Tyler looked down at his fingers.
“You’re a wizard. You shouldn’t resort to human fighting with all the power you could possibly need quite literally at your fingertips. Next time you feel the need to break someone’s nose, ‘confrontus’ will do the job the right way.”
Tyler and McKenzie looked both embarrassed and confused.
“To the hospital wing, Mr. Barlett.”
The boys rushed down the hill towards the castle immediately.
Maeve returned to her reading spot, laying back into the grass. The sun kissed her arms, her neck, her legs. It pressed into the small bit of her stomach that was exposed when she laid back.
It wasn’t long before she spotted Mal strolling across the valley towards her.
“Afternoon,” his velvety calm voice greeted her.
Maeve looked up at him, squinting in the sunlight. “Hi.”
He took a seat on the grass. “What are you reading?”
“This book from the Restricted Area on memory charms.”
“Any better luck translating it?”
Maeve sighed. “Not really. It’s not just the translation, though. The handwriting is abysmal too.”
“Do all spoiled witches grow up learning French? Or just the Sinclairs?”
Maeve frowned.
“Don’t fret. Merely being playful.”
Maeve smiled softly, returning to her reading. Mal was silent for a moment.
“Set aside your book.”
She looked up at him and obeyed. Pulling herself off the grass and crossing her legs beneath her. He was silent for another moment.
“I’m going to do it tonight.”
Maeve sat up straight, her eyes wide.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Maeve exhaled loudly. “Wow.”
She stared at a spot in the grass that was slightly brown.
Mal was going to perform a Vexkari. A dangerous and dark bit of magic. Her mind flooded with concern. What if it went badly? What if he got hurt? Was it even wise to perform the spell in the castle?
“Maeve.” His smooth voice pulled her from her thoughts. “This castle holds ancient power, a protection over all of us. It’s-”
“The safest place to do it,” she finished for him.
Mal was not present in the Dining Hall for dinner, but shortly after she came across Roswyn running his monitoring duties for him on the fifth floor.
“Mal would have given you this, so I won’t be doing anything less. You’re lucky he’s not here, though. You know he’d be disappointed in one of his Draconem breaking the rules without asking him,” said Roswyn. “Now, get.”
The boy hurried past Maeve. Roswyn saw her and laughed.
“Bet you can’t stand me doing your prized Paragon duty,” he said.
“You’re putting far too much stock in my feelings towards you,” said Maeve walking past him.
“I figured you’d be with him tonight. Guess he didn’t deem you important enough to be included in whatever it is he’s up to.”
Maeve stopped abruptly, turning towards him and dramatically dropping her jaw. “He didn’t tell you?”
Roswyn’s face dropped. Maeve smiled wickedly, throwing her head back as she laughed.
Magic fluttered across the back of her neck, knocking her off balance. She stopped laughing and gasped.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Dammit,” muttered Maeve as she shivered. It was the second time this week she felt that unwanted Magic.
Roswyn rounded her. “I asked you a question.”
Maeve’s legs trembled. She reached for the stone wall of the castle as she braced herself. Roswyn opened his mouth once more, but Maeve cut him off.
“Don’t pretend I suddenly matter to you.”
“You don’t,” he said darkly. “But it’s not my interest in you that concerns me.”
“What a good dog,” she said with a smile.
The feeling released her and vanished completely. She let go of the wall and walked around him. “I didn’t eat dinner is all,” she lied, knowing he would report to Mal.
She left Roswyn without another word.
Once in her common room, Maeve attempted reading one of her favorite books to shake the uneasy feeling. Mal consumed her thoughts.
Was he was alright? How had it gone? What if he was still in the process because it took hours? Each line she read blurred, and worry and curiosity reappeared at the front of her mind.
The backs of her eyelids forced themselves into vision. . .
She awoke with a hefty sigh and felt Spinel shift and stretch on her chest. She was curled up on one of the ivory couches in the common room. It was late. The fire at the center of the hall had all but burned out, and the candlelights floating down from the rafters were out.
She resolved to go to bed. With heavy feet, she climbed the spiraling staircase to the dorms. Violet and the other girls were fast asleep when she reached their dorm room.
Spinel scurried around her ankles and jumped into bed with a girl named Patricia, curling up with her long-haired tabby cat named Marcel.
She pulled out the small piece of parchment she and Mal communicated with. She scribbled a few words:
How did it go?
She stared at the words. They remained on the paper. Another minute passed, and they still had not faded. Maeve set the parchment on the bedside table with a small sigh.
She knew he’d be disappointed in her worry.
She laid awake for quite some time, her mind wandering across all sorts of things in an attempt to not fall asleep, desperate to hear from him.
Her eyelids were winning. Sleep was ready to claim her once more. Just as they were beginning to close, she saw her writing on the parchment paper disappear, and the paper glowed green. Mal’s reply came:
Perfectly.
Maeve smiled and pulled the covers up tight, allowing herself to fall quickly asleep.
The next morning, Maeve packed her trunk and suitcases for the journey home.
Spinel kept packing himself in Maeve’s trunk, even though Maeve removed him many times and assured him he wouldn’t be left behind.
A faint green light emitted from the bed, where Maeve had books and clothes strewn about. The tiny piece of paper read:
Come outside.
Maeve set the parchment aside, flew down the stairs and out into the fifth-floor corridor.
Mal stood leaned against the wall. He looked quite well. The corners of his mouth turned up upon seeing her.
“Tell me everything,” she said hastily.
He laughed. “Let’s take a walk.”
They walked the halls as Mal recounted his night prior. He admitted it was excruciating and exhilarating. He described it as the most powerful rush of magic he had ever been in control of. He had successfully removed part of his magic, his very soul even, and stored it safely away.
Maeve was in awe. He did not tell her what he had concealed part of his Magic in, and she knew better than to ask if he was not forthcoming with that detail. But she knew one thing: whatever it was now held power beyond imagination.
“And you feel alright?” Maeve asked him.
“This is the best I’ve felt in a long time. Perhaps since I came to Vaukore.” He had a pridefulness in his walk today. “I proved to myself that I can control my Magic. And it will bend to my will.” He looked over at her. “What’s that face for?” He asked her.
Maeve felt a flush in her cheeks. “Honestly. . . I’m so impressed.”
He seemed to enjoy her praise more than usual as they walked.
“I think you could be one of the most powerful beings there ever was,” said Maeve quietly. “More than the High Lord of the Immortal Realm.”
Mal stopped walking and turned towards her. Maeve mirrored him. His face was calm and contemplative as he reached out and touched her face, running his thumb along her jawline. A large sigh rose and fell in her chest. She relished the feeling of his cold fingers on her flushed skin.
“Don’t just stand there, boy,” said an old wizard in the mural behind Maeve. “You know what to do.”
Maeve’s stomach dropped, and she felt her cheeks burn hot. She knew they were bright pink.
Mal dropped his hand, placed it back in his pocket, and gave the old wizard a reproachful look. They avoided one another’s gaze and continued down the corridor, pretending the previous moment hadn’t happened.
“Professor Sinclair will adore you,” Abraxas said to Mal on the horseback ride across the grounds to the gates of Vaukore. The Portal to London awaited them. Spinel and Julius, Abraxas’ silver cat, ran ahead of them, tumbling over one another.
Summer glistened across the wooded mountains that encased the island. The sun beamed down on them, casting golden light from clear blue skies. Mal’s sleeves were rolled back. Maeve found herself staring at his grip on the reins.
The veins in his arms.
“And I’ll be there with Mum and Dad for all the parties,” continued Abraxas. “You have warned him about the parties, haven’t you, Maeve?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, pulling her gaze from him. “He’s been warned.”
“I, for one, can’t wait for you to duel some of those preppy Orator officials,” said Hendrix Fawley with a grin, as he pulled up next to Maeve.
Mal looked like he had already had this thought.
“Alphard and The Mavrosi Family will be there too,” said Abraxas, with far too much mischief in his voice. Maeve reprimanded him with her eyes, but neither Mal nor Hendrix noticed.
Maeve explained to Mal days ago that after The Summer Solstice party long into the night and the next day, a handful of men gathered privately for cigars, maybe some Magical sporting games, and conversation. It was invitation only.
“Your Father allowed you to sit in on these meetings as a child?” Mal had asked.
“Oh no,” said Maeve. “I listened through the door. Some of the most important leaders in the world will be in that room. It’s your best opportunity to charm them.”
In London, they bid the others farewell and paid the train to send them to their destination.