Chapter 23 #3
“Gentlemen,” said Ambrose. “If you would accompany us down the hall, it appears my daughters are eager to prove themselves in front of such impressive company.”
Maeve followed Arianna out of the Dining Hall.
The Dueling Hall at Sinclair Estates was empty except for a settee and a small gold bar. Clarissa and the rest of the wives placed themselves around the settee while the men helped themselves to more dragon brandy.
Three floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall and opened up to the balcony over the gardens. They were covered in white sheer drapes that were as still as Maeve in this moment. She was calm and collected, her arms folded across her chest.
Maeve found Mal’s eyes and took his ring in her hand. She inhaled sharply as she felt his energy pulsating at her chest.
Only the two of them knew what was coming.
Maeve could feel his pride for her somehow. It resonated into her fingertips. She stood like the champion she was, eager and ready to claim her prize. And they both knew that she would. The only question was how far she would go in her victory.
Maeve had played this scenario over in her head many times in the past few days.
“Are you ready, little sister?” Taunted Ariana.
Maeve took two steps forward, bowed at her sister without a word, and waited for Arianna to do the same.
Once both of the girls finished their formalities, Arianna raised her arm and sent Maeve a stunning spell with three pointed fingers. The spell was strong, as Maeve expected. But Maeve was stronger.
Maeve blocked the spell with the faintest flick of her wrist. Magic blasted back towards Arianna.
Arianna’s Magic was weak compared to Mal’s.
Maeve had been training with a Supreme with Dread Magic in his veins.
Her sister’s strongest spell might as well have been a light breeze of wind, especially with Mal’s Dread Ring around her neck.
To the human eye, it would have seemed Maeve hadn’t moved at all when she blocked Arianna’s spell.
A small strand of hair had escaped its place in Maeve’s barrette in the pulsation of the spell.
She tucked the hair into its proper place and gave her older sister the most wicked look. Arianna’s face fell flat.
The room was frozen, all eyes eagerly watching Maeve.
“My God,” whispered Ambrose as Maeve reared back, two fingers extending from her hand. She exerted a full-force blow on Arianna that shook the windows and sent the curtains whipping violently.
The new, cool Magic that spiraled through her whole body felt as though Mal was next to her, feeding her Magic. It was exhilarating and refreshing and-
Maeve moved so quickly and with so much force, that the whole room was uncertain of what happened. She held nothing back.
Arianna lost control and was unable to block the blast. She was down on all fours, trying to breathe. Maeve need only signify that her next strike would be fatal, effectively winning their duel with one spell.
But she wasn’t satisfied.
“Get up,” ordered Maeve.
This was the moment she had dreamed about for years.
She had pictured it every time her knees hit the hard floor when Mal had struck her with all his strength.
He had made her stronger with each blow. With every bruise. Every mark. And now, with a part of him around her neck, she was going to beat her sister as hard as she beat Maeve in the past.
Maeve looked to Mal, who was looking at Ambrose. They were both curious if he would allow his daughters to continue.
The awe on Ambrose’s face signified he had been waiting for this moment just as much as Maeve.
“Get. Up.” Maeve hissed quietly at her sister.
Arianna slowly carried her gaze to Clarissa, who offered no emotion to her favorite child.
In fact, Clarissa was looking at Maeve with her lip quivering.
It looked like she could cry at any moment as she clenched her jaw tight.
Her mother had never looked at her with such devastation. Such inferiority.
“Daddy, we barely got to duel tell her-” began Maeve sweetly in a loud voice, but Arianna was quickly on her feet at such a low blow.
“Again then,” sighed Arianna, out of breath.
Maeve stepped backward and gestured openly to her sister. “Give me everything you’ve got, sister.”
It had been days since Maeve’s duel with Arianna, but she was still relishing it. She wasn’t sure what she liked more: the look on Mal’s face, the look on her father’s face, or the look on Ariana’s face in defeat.
Mal met Titus Iantrose, Arianna’s fiancé, a few nights later. Maeve didn’t dare look at him when their engagement and wedding were brought up.
The Dread ring was on Mal’s finger as they played with new Magic back and forth, which guaranteed his triumph over Maeve. They practiced nonetheless. “If I recall correctly,” said Mal, “you were called by another name at our Cauldron Ceremony, the night we arrived at Vaukore .”
“That’s quite the recollection,” said Maeve with a laugh.
“What was it?” Asked Mal.
He was in a sprightly good mood today.
“Amaranthine.”
“Ah,” he said, circling her. Maeve countered him. “I was curious about your personal lack of the letter ‘A.’ Given the rest of the Sinclair’s have it.”
“An astute observation and mystery solved.”
Mal blocked the jinx she sent silently with a small smirk.
Maeve blocked his returning spell, but he used a great deal of force, sending her sliding back a few feet. Mal pointed his single finger a second time before she was ready.
Thick white light, like a rope, shot from the end tip of his finger, encircling Maeve tightly. Her hands pinned to her sides as Mal tugged the light forward, bringing Maeve to her knees. Maeve frowned.
Mal smiled in victory, licking his bottom lip and kneeled in front of her playfully. “So why don’t you go by that name?”
“Why do you care?”
The ropes binding her constricted more, making it harder to breathe.
“Answer,” said Mal plainly .
“You really like holding me captive to your questions,” said Maeve smiling.
“Answer,” he repeated.
“My brother couldn’t pronounce it as a child. So I went by Maeve, my middle name.”
The mention of Antony caused Mal’s triumphant smirk to falter slightly. He flicked his fingertips, and the ropes of light disappeared with a pop.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Asked Mal as he rolled back his sleeves for more.
The summer was flying by. It was only days before the Summer Solstice Party, and Maeve was eager for Mal to meet the most influential Magicals in the world. Rumor had it they were eager to meet him.
On a stormy evening, Maeve was tucked away in her favorite reading nook, a circular alcove on the top floor of the house. She leaned back in a window seat, which was covered in small claw marks from Spinel. Evidence she spent much time here.
Footsteps grew louder down the hallway. Mal appeared in the doorway.
“You finally found me,” said Maeve.
“A nice hiding spot.”
Maeve set her book aside. “How did your tux fit?”
“Like a glove.”
Ambrose took Mal to Wizard’s Wears in London to be custom fitted for what Maeve could only assume was his first-ever luxury piece of clothing.
Ambrose also purchased him a matching set of dress robes, but those weren’t worn frequently at The Summer Solstice Party.
Most younger Magicals considered that fashion outdated.
Mal sat in an armchair close to the window, staring out over the estate. Lightning slammed into the horizon. “Your world is so very different than mine.”
“I imagine so.”
Mal’s head snapped towards her as though he wasn’t expecting such a blunt response.
“I’m not boasting. I, in turn, envy you in ways you can’t imagine.”
“You can have anything you want here.”
“It comes at a great cost,” said Maeve. “My clothes may be fine, and this house stands above all the rest but you. . . Your future is so much more free than mine.”
Mal looked away from her, playing with his ring. “You make your own future, Maeve. I will ensure that. Besides, I heard a rumor that you are now being scouted for Bellator.”
He smirked. Bellator had seemed unattainable, undesirably even until recently. To be at the top of the Magical Chain. . .
She smiled sadly. “I believe that’s true. But it’s not that simple. What is coming won’t be an easy. . .transition. There are things expected of me. Those in power who do not wish to be dethroned.”
Mal didn’t press the subject. That was as much as they could safely speak about Mal being the true Dread Descendant. Maeve figured there was a large part of him still processing the implications of his reality.
He changed the subject.
“How badly did I bruise you yesterday?”
“Not terribly,” said Maeve.
They were silent for a moment before Mal spoke again.
“Let me see,” said Mal in a low voice.
Maeve hesitated and then stood, un-tucking her blouse from her skirt, and pulling it up a bit. There, on her stomach, just below her ribs, was a deep purple circle from a curse that hit her straight on.
She had screamed when it made impact. Mal’s curses burned deep. Especially Dread Magic.
Maeve took a step towards him as his head cocked to the side. His cold fingers reached out and slid across her exposed skin, sending chills across her entire body. He was unable to look away from the bruise, and Maeve was mesmerized by his expression.
“Your father complimented my watch today,” he said quietly.
Maeve tried to steady her breathing as his fingers glossed over her skin.
“It suits you,” said Maeve, trying to control her voice.
“Did he know you gave it to me?” Asked Mal.
“No.”
Mal looked up at her and dropped his hand. She let her blouse fall down, concealing the bruise.
“This is a Sinclair family watch?”
Maeve nodded.
“You honor me, Little. Viper.”
“The honor is mine,” she said quietly. “And has been for quite some time now.”