Chapter 25 #2
“Can you believe it?” Came Abraxas’ voice beside her.
She pushed onto her tippy toes and grabbed Abraxas’ arm for support. “No way,” she breathed.
Across the ballroom, in full black, was an Immortal.
But not just any Immortal.
Reeve, The High Lord of Aterna.
The most powerful being alive.
His smile dripped with swagger as strode across the ballroom towards Ambrose.
Magic shot across the floor with every step he took, cracking towards her. More magic than she had ever felt from another. It was ancient and holy and thick.
The Power of the Gods, they called it. The power of tens of thousands of Magicals all wrapped in one broad shouldered, striking man.
He was well over six feet, as most Immortals were, with skin kissed by the sun and shining black hair.
Tattoos peeked out from his velvety ornate tunic up his neck.
They ran across his knuckles as well. He looked to be in his thirties.
But Immortals were gifted eternal beauty.
They stopped aging in their second or third decades.
“I think I may faint,” said Abraxas.
Reeve and Ambrose embraced happily.
“That may be the most attractive man I’ve ever seen,” Abraxas said under his breath.
Behind Reeve was another man, but he was slightly shorter, the same glowing skin but with long features. His platinum hair fell past his waist. Tipped Ears, like Zimsy. He was part Elven.
He did not caress the crowd with the same confidence as his High Lord. He eyed them all ruefully. Maeve didn’t blame him.
“What a surprise, Reeve,” Ambrose laughed. “It’s been years since you visited Earth.”
“Four years actually,” Reeve corrected.
“Has it been that long?” Asked Ambrose. “My my. Come- the duels are about to start.”
Maeve looked over at Abraxas, who was in a trance, nearly drooling. She pushed him playfully and linked her arm with his. “Let’s go watch Mal.”
Twenty minutes later, Ambrose and what would be considered the most influential witches and wizards in the Magical World, stood with their mouths hung open as Mal defeated a Bellator with Supreme status and a Magical Militia Captain twice his age.
Then another. Then another. It was the toughest duels Maeve had ever personally witnessed.
There were spells shooting back and forth so rapidly it was difficult to keep up.
And Mal took them all down without breaking a sweat.
When Mal’s deadly finger was placed on Arman’s throat, the party erupted in clapping and cheers for him. Ambrose’s second’s face was set in emotionless shock.
Mal helped him to his feet, and they shook hands. Arman shakily stepped into the crowd and Mal bowed his head at the applause and cheers.
He raised his hand up in the air, and the crowd fell silent and still at his silent command.
“If I may,” he said. “You’ve all been so graciously welcoming. It is an honor to duel here tonight. If you will indulge me, I’d like to share this spotlight with another Magical. I’d like you to see the power of two new age Supreme’s together.”
Maeve’s cheeks burned hot.
Mal gestured his hand towards her. “The Premier’s blood runs strong. Maeve Sinclair.”
A buzz lifted through the party.
Mal smiled fully.
It was an intoxicating sight. She would drown to see it never fade.
“Indulge me,” he said softly.
Those in front of her parted and she took her place beside him. He took her hand and kissed her fingers gently.
He was putting on quite the show.
“I don’t have your ring,” she whispered through her smile.
“You don’t need it, Little Viper.” He fingers slipped down her pointer and middle finger. “Let it all flow.”
It had been a dance. So intertwined. It was like they had rehearsed it a thousand times. Each step was so natural, so instinctual, so passionate that she nearly cried as he circled around her, one hand on her throat and his pointer finger at her temple in victory.
He released her quickly and pulled her to her feet. The pair embraced and pulled away from one another. Mal’s eyes were swimming with a wild desire. Maeve panted as they shared one breath.
Larliesl’s cheers boomed over the rest. Maeve’s jaw soon hurt from smiling.
Mal was surrounded by Bellator who were part of the Magical Militia, not much older than them, as soon as he broke away from Maeve.
They looked at him in admiration, offering him drinks and praise.
He accepted them all with elegant ease. Each one desperate for him to know their name.
Perhaps high ranking Double O officials were not all that mattered in the game to come. The boys that surrounded him looked up at him like Roswyn and Hendrix and the rest did. Pure admiration.
Her Father appeared at her side.
“What do you think?” Maeve asked Ambrose, her hands behind her back as she watched Mal.
Ambrose stared forward. “I think. . .”
Maeve’s head shot to Ambrose, expecting some light- hearted comment from her father. It was quite the opposite. Ambrose’s face was serene.
Ambrose didn’t answer. Maeve changed the subject.
“Is it odd to see your men drinking and dancing?”
Ambrose smiled. “Not at all. I would be worried if they didn’t engage in some revelry.”
“Reeve is here,” she said plainly.
“The High Lord is here,” he corrected her. “A very unexpected visit.”
“The war is about to turn ugly,” said Maeve. “I can feel it. You can feel it. And I guess The High Lord felt it despite being tucked realms away.”
“I imagine that is exactly why he is here.” Ambrose looked over at her. “You were otherworldly up there.”
Maeve bit her lip through a smile.
“How did I do?” Asked Mal, appearing before them.
Ambrose smiled and shook his head. “Bloody brilliant, my boy, brilliant.”
Maeve gave Mal a slight nod.
“Later this evening,” said Ambrose, grabbing a drink from a floating tray, “come to my office after the party.” Ambrose gave him a wink and left them alone.
“Well done,” said Maeve.
Mal played with The Dread Ring around his finger absentmindedly.
“Though,” continued Maeve, “I figured once they saw you duel, you’d receive an invitation. Seems like your introduction to The High Lord of Aterna will be sooner than anticipated.”
“The most powerful magic in the world runs through his veins,” said Mal. “It’s strange. I felt his presence the moment he arrived.”
“I did too,” said Maeve. “But I think we are alone in that.”
Maeve looked across the Hall just in time to see a girl named Isabella Zaichosky meet her gaze and look away immediately. Maeve frowned.
“Mal!” Abraxas appeared at their side. “Come, I want you to meet my parents.”
They disappeared into the crowd, and Maeve wandered out of the Hall. She crossed The Ballroom, where distant conversation drifted across the foyer.
Her father’s infectious laughter filled the air.
She turned the corner into the Bar.
Orator Moon, Her father and Reeve were pouring themselves oversized glasses of Immortally Brewed Bourbon from the bar.
“Maeve,” called Ambrose. “Come and join us.”
Maeve smiled.
Reeve looked over his shoulder at her casually, his eyes tracing down to her toes and back up. A grin pulled up at his lips.
Maeve reproached him with her eyes. “Your Grace,” said Maeve.
“Maeve, the Sinclair youngest,” said the handsome High Lord.
Ambrose slapped his arm around her shoulders with a grin. Reeve leaned against the bar with royal ease. He was finely dressed in a black suit with amethyst embroidered swirls of fire. His silken dark hair grazed his shoulders, soft waves billowing throughout.
He was stunning. Not like Mal, whose chiseled and tall face was smooth as moonstone, his slender and built frame a perfect match to Maeve.
But Reeve was different. Where Mal was the most gorgeous boy she had ever laid eyes on, Reeve was pure man.
Even the thick velvet of his suit couldn’t conceal the muscles underneath.
His tan tattooed hands gripped his goblet in such a way she was certain he could shatter her whole with one movement of those fingers.
Her eyes snapped away from his frame as he spoke with one brow raised.
“Dueling like that, surely you’ll be offered a top spot out of school,” said Reeve.
“She already has been offered it,” murmured Moon into his glass.
Maeve grinned.
“Then congratulations are in order,” said Reeve.
Ambrose clicked his tongue.
“Thank you,” said Maeve. “But I didn’t accept the offer.”
Ambrose spoke proudly. “Maeve is also being offered a spot as a Bellator.”
“I’m still considering that one,” said Maeve coyly.
Reeve grinned again, and his head cocked to one side. He looked to Moon. “Is that so?”
Moon nodded and jabbed his chin towards Ambrose. “You expect anything less out of his blood?”
Ambrose loosed a laugh and Moon continued.
“He’s been a pain in my ass for years!”
Maeve caught Reeve breaking his attention from her father and the Orator to survey her. She was not intimidated by the power he held, though she could feel it pushing across the floor towards her, feeling for just how much power she had.
“Moon, are you calling this lovely warrior a pain in the ass?” Asked Reeve playfully.
Moon sputtered on his brandy, and Ambrose let out a hardy laugh.
“Reeve I do enjoy your company,” said Ambrose.
“Warrior?” Asked Maeve.
A female Immortal that was as tall as Reeve slunk behind him and laced their elbows together.
She was stunning, like all the Immortal women, in a way that agitated Maeve.
Graceful beauty oozing from her every move, her every breath and every pore were pure perfection.
She looked not a day over twenty-five, another perk of the Immortals Maeve envied.
Reeve gave the girl a look of approval at her touch.
“Yes,” he continued. “In Aterna, the Immortals that make up our defenses are called Senshi Warriors. Like your Magical Militia. Only with weapons of magic.”
“Are you one?” She asked.
Her Father’s hand tensed on her shoulder, a cue to let him be. A cue which Maeve ignored.
“I am,” said Reeve proudly.