Chapter 23 #2
Maeve turned as Ambrose Sinclair came down the stairs with favor in his stride. She met him at the bottom and threw her arms around him. She inhaled his familiar scent of cigars, filling her with an immediate sense of safety.
“Hi, Maeve,” said Arianna, who ascended the stairs slowly behind her father. Maeve nodded politely in her direction.
The sisters didn’t embrace, but it was uncommon for the pair to show affection.
The fire crackled loudly, and Mal stepped into the foyer as Maeve’s Mother, Clarissa, rounded the corner.
Mal stepped towards Maeve.
“You remember my sister,” Maeve said to Mal, gesturing to Arianna.
“Of course. Hello Arianna.”
Maeve could have sworn she saw a flush come to her sister’s cheeks. This was no surprise.
“This is my Mother,” said Maeve quickly, not meeting her gaze.
Mal extended his hand to Clarissa, who smiled and took it. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Sinclair. Your home is beautiful.”
Clarissa averted her eyes to Ambrose.
“And of course,” beamed Maeve, “you remember my father.”
Ambrose ran his fingers through his silvering hair before extending a gracious arm to Mal.
“Good to have you,” said Ambrose.
“Thank you for having me, sir.” Mal smiled softly, humbly.
“As I said at Vaukore, the invitation is open-ended.”
“I hate that I missed your teaching at Vaukore. The other professors speak so highly of you.”
Ambrose grinned and gave a wink, “Ahh- nonsense.”
Mal gave Ambrose his award-winning smile.
“We’ll let you get settled then,” said Ambrose.
“Trudy,” snapped Clarissa. The old elf appeared with a CRACK. “Show Mr. Peur to his quarters.”
“I’ll show him,” interjected Maeve.
Trudy obscured with their belongings without a word.
“Just in time for dinner, too,” said Ambrose. “Anything you fancy, Malachite?”
“Oh, no, sir. I’m only honored to be here.”
Ambrose clapped him on the shoulder and strode off down the corridor. Maeve and Mal began ascending the winding staircase to the mansion’s upper floors. The guest suite was on the third floor, one floor above Maeve’s room, at the center of the landing.
Mal looked up at the painted ceilings.
“I told you it was over the top,” muttered Maeve.
“You love it here,” he retorted without hesitation.
They stopped on the first floor landing, looking over the bannister to the south side of the foyer below. Through the two story windows that arched into the ceiling was the stone balcony and the gardens.
She was certain Mal had never seen a home like this.
On the third floor, he let out a chuckle as they entered the massive guest suite, which was ornately decorated in emerald and silver.
The Serpentine Crest hung on a tapestry above the black marble fireplace.
All his belongings were already in place.
His clothes were put away, his books neatly placed on the shelf, and his Vaukore Paragon badge was on the bedside table in a crystal case.
Two emerald green leather armchairs sat on either side of the fireplace. The four-poster bed was trimmed with silver and emerald fabric, too.
“The room’s enchanted,” explained Maeve. “It decorates itself to match the aesthetic of its guest.”
Mal picked up a brown wrapped package on the bed and looked at her questioningly.
She laughed. “My Father can’t help himself.”
“Yes,” said Mal absentmindedly, pulling back the paper. “I’ve noticed his affinity for giving you gifts.”
“Oh, look-” said Maeve. “it’s a first edition.”
Mal held up a copy of “Vaukore: the Legend of Magic.”
“Am I being bought?” Mal asked, smirking.
“Perhaps,” shrugged Maeve.
Mal turned to the inside cover. There, in sparkling gold letters, was a swirly signature.
Cressida Juniper Felixx
It took Maeve the entire evening and most of the next morning to not be sour that her own father had gifted Mal a first edition, signed copy of “Vaukore: the Legend of Magic,” and not his own daughter.
They spent their mornings practicing in the Ballroom A full-force blow from Mal was impossible to fully deflect, though Maeve nearly blocked a few spells quite well without completely losing her balance. Spinel was asleep on his back, sunbathing by the windows.
“I have an idea,” said Mal. “If you want to try.”
“Alright,” said Maeve.
He strode towards her. He slipped the Peur ring off his finger. He ran his fingers over it a few times before instructing her to hold out her hand. She obeyed.
The ring fell into her palm. A cold sensation dripped down her whole body as the ring made contact with her skin, causing her to shiver.
“You want me to-”
“Put it on, yes.”
“It’s too big.”
It was, truthfully. Mal sighed and looked at her in frustration, as though it was her fault. He studied her for a moment.
“Your necklace,” he said.
Maeve grabbed the ivory cameo pendant hanging around her neck. “Ah,” she said.
She removed the chain and replaced the pendant with Mal’s ring, so that it hung around her neck. Mal nodded and circled back around the room.
“Touch it,” commanded Mal cooly, “and close your eyes.”
Maeve, again, obeyed.
“Now,” he said, “feel for the magic it holds.”
She inhaled deeply, letting her mind fall blank.
The cool feeling of Magic turned to deadly shards of ice.
Agile and fierce. The sensation started to grow, only sparks of Magic at first, but with each inhale, she felt a flame of ice wafting- surging with each breath.
Soon, the feeling was a current moving through her body.
It felt like spell casting, but it was constant. Sturdy and unmovable.
The feeling was so exhilarating, so captivating, that not even Mal’s velvet voice broke her connection with it.
“I’m going to attack; I want you to deflect.”
Maeve nodded. Mal unleashed on her. A bright light slammed towards her.
Maeve opened her eyes and, with an easy swish of her hand, deflected his curse with such a potent burst of magic his robes whipped violently behind him as he took a step back, bracing himself.
Maeve gasped. She looked at her right hand in disbelief- she had never been able to do that before- and certainly not with ease. Mal had the most victorious grin on his face. Maeve laughed.
“I’ve never done that to you. What was that?”
“That was me,” said Mal piously.
He strode towards her. He grasped the ring hanging from around her neck, incidentally pulling her closer.
“Oh,” whispered Maeve as it made complete sense. Part of him was inside that ring. “You.”
His smirk turned to a wicked smile. “I wondered if that would work.”
His face was inches from Maeve’s. She was quickly becoming addicted to being this close to him. She looked down at the ring in his hand. An idea struck her-
“Do you think I could duel Arianna like this?” Maeve asked, her eyes wide.
“You don’t need me to beat her.”
“I don’t want to beat her,” said Maeve. “I want to demolish her.”
Mal smiled down at her in a feline way.
“That’s my girl.”
That weekend, the Sinclair’s hosted an intimate dinner party for a few of their friends. Mal and Maeve spent the days prior dueling non-stop as Maeve adjusted to the power of Mal’s newest Vexkari hanging around her neck.
They were careful to never discuss Mal’s heritage. Magic was a tricky thing, and there were few secrets that stayed secrets in Magic houses. But Mal devoted all his spare time to reading, studying new Magic, and experimenting with his abilities.
Dinner was filled with lighthearted conversation. Clarissa always ensured the wine flowed heavily at her functions. Maeve and Mal politely declined the alcohol.
“I heard you’ve had quite the year, Maeve,” said Egor Rupertill, a Professor at a primary school for Magicals, who had a short-lived career teaching at Vaukore . He was one of Ambrose’s closest friends.
“Says who?” Asked Maeve charmingly.
“Larliesl,” said Rupertill. “Told us you made top ranks in the Dueling Club. Finished second in the whole year.”
Maeve smiled. “I had a good teacher.”
“Of course,” said Egor. “Everyone knows that!”
The men laughed. And Egor continued.
“Malachite Peur. Youngest Supreme in a millennium, top of the class in every subject and the heaviest recruited third year I’ve ever seen. Who hasn’t offered you a job yet? Quite an achievement. Larliesl doesn’t shut up about you.”
Mal smiled with pride. “That’s very kind.”
“And rumor has it a Maeve Sinclair has been added to the list of recruits for the Bellator.” Egor eyed Ambrose with a grin. “Bet you never imagined your youngest in those ranks.”
“But surely Larliesl is just being biased,” said Ariana quickly. “And The Double O.”
Maeve looked across the table at her sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Asked Maeve.
Ariana smiled at Maeve with pity. “You know exactly what that means. A year ago, you couldn’t even block a stunning spell. Now I’m supposed to believe you’re second best to him?” She pointed at Mal, who was seated next to Maeve. “Offers of Bellator. Since when are you a soldier?”
“Would you like to see for yourself?” Asked Maeve, cooly.
“I would actually,” said Arianna with a scoff.
“Oh now, ladies-” started Egor, but Maeve cut him off.
“Shall we?” Maeve asked her father, turning sharply across the table towards him for approval.
There was a wildness in Maeve’s eyes her father was likely unfamiliar with. Admittedly, Maeve was unfamiliar with it too. She felt Mal suppressing a smirk next to her.
Ambrose looked at his youngest daughter questioningly, but she gave him a small nod. Ambrose was, undoubtedly, confused by her eagerness to duel Arianna, given Maeve’s record of defeats.
“We’re in the middle of dinner-” started Clarissa, but Arianna smiled sweetly at her mother and cut her off.
“No worries, Mummy,” said Arianna, turning to Maeve with a scowl. “This won’t take long.”
Maeve didn’t give her sister the satisfaction of a response.
Clarissa tossed her fabric napkin on the table with a grand flourish and a look of disgust on her face. She refused to look at her husband as he stood up next to her.