The Dread Descendant

Chapter 28

Maeve was already swamped with school work. She took on seven “Supreme preparation” level classes this year and was feeling the weight of every single one.

“Did you hear Hummingdoor is ill?” Abraxas asked.

“No,” said Maeve. “But I suppose that explains why his classes are postponed.”

“He’s insistent on having his first of the year celebration at the end of this week though.”

“Of course he is,” said Maeve.

Mal appeared at her other side in the hallway and slipped a book into her bag.

“What’s that?”

“Something for you to peruse later,” he said.

She reached for her bag, but Mal clicked his tongue.

“I said later.”

She looked up at him.

“Fine.”

“Rowle’s parents came and got him late last night,” said Abraxas.

“Did you get all of that contraband into Draconem Dorm the other night?”

Abraxas avoided her gaze. “Not sure what you are talking about.”

Maeve rolled her eyes. He was lying. “Abraxas,” whined Maeve.

“Look,” said Abraxas, “It’s done all the time, and nothing like that ever happens. Don’t go blaming me for Rowle’s stupidity.”

Maeve eyed him but found it difficult to argue.

“I can’t believe he did that,” said Maeve.

“Yeah,” agreed Abraxas. “That poor girl.”

They passed the Serpentine girl from the party, the new student who spoke up. She was sitting on the stairs looking through sheets of parchment with an aggravated look.

Maeve stopped walking. Mal and Abraxas continued on.

“Do you need assistance?” Maeve asked.

She looked up from her papers. Then back down. “Just confused as to why I have two classes at the same time.”

Maeve held out her hand. The girl’s eyes flicked up in annoyance. But she handed them to Maeve none the less.

Maeve flipped through them. And then handed them back.

“You don’t,” she said. “You have Introduction to Spell Casting on Mondays and Wednesdays this term, and next term that becomes Charms.”

“Thank you,” said the girl.

“What’s your name?” Asked Maeve.

“Belvadora.”

“Where are you from?”

“Russia. What’s your name?”

“Please,” said Maeve. “Spare me.”

A smile kicked at the corners of Belvadora’s otherwise bored expression. “Maeve Sinclair. Pureblood daughter of the Premier. Head Girl. Why do you care who I am?”

“Because you are the only one in a crowd of cowards who wasn’t afraid. Not of Henry. Not of your fellow Serpentine Court. Not of Mal.”

“Why not of you?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not an imbecile,” said Belvadora dryly.

“Maeve!” Abraxas called from behind her.

“A few of us train on Saturday mornings. You should come.”

“You’ve never seen me fight.”

“I don’t need to,” said Maeve.

Abraxas appeared at her side, looping his arm through hers. “What about this first year could be so interesting, cousin?”

“Shut up, Brax.”

Belvadora looked Abraxas up and down, slowly and meticulously. Abraxas’ expression shifted to one of interest.

“Well, well,” he said lowly. “Suddenly I’m intrigued.”

Belvadora didn’t miss a beat. “From what I have heard, I’m not your type.”

Abraxas smirked. “Darling, everyone is my type.”

Maeve slipped out of his arm and threw her hands in the air in omission. Mal was waiting for her a few feet away. He joined her in step.

“That’s the girl from the party?”

Maeve nodded. “I invited her to our Saturday morning sessions. I hope that’s okay.”

“Campaigning for me already?” Said Mal with a grin.

Maeve smiled as her hand moved to the back of her neck. Mal’s carefree grin turned to a look of displeasure.

“I’m fine,” she said and looked back over her shoulder. Belvadora was walking in the opposite direction as Abraxas watched her.

Mal looked back and raised his brows. “Flavor of the week?”

“Eventually he has to actually fall for someone,” said Maeve under her breath. “Maybe it’s her.”

Mal shook his head. “It’s not her.”

Maeve perused the book Mal slipped her that evening. The book confirmed what they already suspected. The ring Mal took from his father and the locket he spoke of were powerful magic objects. They were made with Dread Magic, and they were two of many Magical objects.

“Seven of them,” said Maeve with a surprised exhale. “The Dread Armor.”

Mal nodded. The Dread Ring sat atop his finger, glimmering in the candlelight. The two silver skulls that held the black stone in place had deep ruby gems for eyes.

“I think it’s safe to say this locket it speaks of is the same one your father did,” said Maeve.

Mal nodded. Maeve flipped back a few pages.

“So the ring, the locket, the dagger, the goblet, the spell book, the stone, and the crown,” said Maeve.

“How do we even begin to search for these things?” Asked Mal. “There’s only one other object we know that even made it to Earth. The rest could be scattered across the seven realms for all we know.”

“Two,” corrected Maeve.

Mal’s brows raised.

“The goblet was once on display in the Double O. Until they scrubbed the place of any mention of Dread magic. It was auctioned off privately. But I bet we could figure out to who.”

They were silent for a second.

“Where did you get this?” Maeve asked.

Mal hesitated. “It was in my room at your home.”

Maeve nearly dropped the book. She exhaled a quick burst of air. “That’s not a coincidence.”

“I’m aware of that,” said Mal. “Someone knows.”

Maeve chewed her bottom lip. “Or someone saw you duel and thinks if you had these powerful objects, you could defeat Kietel.”

“Reeve could easily do that,” drawled Mal. “Why hasn’t he?”

Maeve continued perusing the mystery book. “I don’t think Kietel has done anything my father or Reeve deem defeat worthy.”

“The papers are saying he’s murdering human born Magicals who refuse to declare him as the Dread Descendant,” said Mal.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. “But the papers also lie. Father and Uncle Mavros were arguing before we left about it. Abraxas’ father wants to support him. A few other pureblood houses do too. They are tired of our current government.”

She looked up at Mal. His mind was distant, far from her words.

“Mal,” she said softly.

He slowly looked at her.

“What are you thinking?”

Mal looked out the window. “I’m thinking my priority needs to be finding these objects so I can be who I claim to be. They aren’t just symbols. They are power. They are me.”

Maeve leaned back in her chair. “You’re thinking of leaving school.” It wasn’t a question.

Mal looked over at her guiltily. “How can I find them here?”

“Like calls to like,” recited Maeve. “You weren’t trying to find that ring on your finger. It found you. I have a feeling the rest will too.” She smiled. “Don’t look so grim. I have an idea.”

Emilia Brighton looked up at Maeve with wide eyes in the Dining Hall. The Draconem daughter of Walter Brighton, the head curator at The Magical Antiquities Museum, dropped her fork as Maeve sat across from her.

“Alright if I sit?” Maeve asked.

Emilia nodded quickly.

“Hello, Emilia,” said Abraxas as he slid onto the bench at Maeve’s side.

Her mouth dipped open. “Hello-”

“Emilia,” came Mal’s voice from Maeve’s other side as he took a seat.

Emilia’s mouth fell completely open. She snapped it shut quickly and then looked at Maeve, but her face was already pink.

“We’d like to invite you to join our weekly training sessions,” said Maeve sweetly.

Emilia sat up straight and leaned towards them. She sputtered for a moment and then said. “It would be an honor!”

She beamed at Maeve.

“Wonderful,” said Maeve.

“I’d also like to train you privately,” said Mal. “I see a lot of potential in you.”

Emilia’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” said Abraxas. “And then thank you.”

Emilia did.

It had been Maeve’s idea for Mal to train Emilia privately, but as the two of them walked out of the Dining Hall together, her stomach twisted.

Abraxas snorted. “You should see your face.”

It didn’t take long for Emilia to spill what little she knew about her father’s search for the Dread artifacts. But the tiny lead she did divulge was a start.

The Dread Crown had been lost for two hundred years, since the Double O was created and took power.

The Crown vanished at that time, but Emilia bragged to Mal that her father had solid reason to believe it had been stowed and protected deep inside the Yatir Forest. She rambled on quite a bit about his life’s work there.

Maeve had numerous maps strewn out across a large table in the Library. She reached for an encyclopedia.

“That’s in Israel,” said Abraxas from the head of the table. He was reclined with his feet propped up.

Maeve and Mal looked over at him.

“I soak up information like a sponge,” he said with a wink.

Maeve pulled out a smaller map from under the pile. “That forest is massive.”

Mal leaned over the map.

“So are either of you going to tell me what’s going on?” Asked Abraxas.

“No,” they replied in synch.

Abraxas huffed and kicked his legs off the table. He crossed behind Mal to make his exit. Mal smiled softly and met eyes with Maeve.

“Abraxas,” Mal called after him. “Soon.”

Abraxas waved his hand in the air dismissively.

Maeve and Mal stared at the map between them. Somewhere, buried deep in that forest, was a crown forged in holy power. Maeve couldn’t get the image of it atop Mal’s head out of her mind.

“Off subject, but are you dueling tonight?”

Mal nodded. “You are as well.”

Maeve nodded.

Mal eyed her. “Does that displease you?”

“No, not at all, but I just wonder should I wear your ring?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Asked Maeve with a smirk.

“No,” said Mal, matter-of-factly.

Maeve smiled at him.

Later that evening, Maeve arrived in an already packed Dueling Hall. She made her way over to Abraxas, who was whispering something to one of Mal’s boys, newly appointed Paragon, Finnian Bell. Finnian ran out of the room hurriedly.

“What was that all about?” Maeve asked Abraxas.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with, Head Girl,” said Abraxas cooly.

“Of course.”

The list of duels was passed around. Abraxas snatched it up to wager his bets, but Maeve didn’t feel like placing any.

“Maybe if you and Mal weren’t keeping secrets, I wouldn’t either,” said Abraxas.

Maeve scoffed. “Please. I’m only keeping the secrets I’ve been asked to keep. Do not act as though you wouldn’t do the same.”

Abraxas mimicked her silently and avoided her gaze, flipping through the pages on the clipboard.

Emilia wasn’t the only one Mal was training. After Professor Larliel suggested Mal give lessons at the first duel, the parchment sheet to sign up was full by the end of the evening.

“Damn,” Maeve had said, glancing down at the paper. “Looks like I didn’t make the list.”

Mal had smirked. “Don’t think you’re getting out of your regular training so easily.”

Maeve leaned against the archway of the Dueling Hall early in the morning, keeping her distance as Mal instructed two students. They shot spells hastily back and forth.

Mal stopped them and corrected one of the boys wrist movement.

“Again,” said Mal.

The boy’s jinx was much stronger the second time. He watched them for a moment until one of them faltered.

Mal circled the center of the room and demonstrated the proper deflection needed. His shields were so strong it blew a small strand of Maeve’s hair back. She watched him in admiration. Mal stepped back, and the boys resumed their duel.

He coached them as they dueled, forcing them to be better with every spell cast. After barely dodging a spell, one boy became flustered and lost control. Sputtering sparks began flying from his palm.

“That is one of the worst disservices you could do to yourself in a fight,” said Mal calmly. “You must never lose control. Your Magic is a part of you. It isn’t an external force. It responds to your body, to your mind. Training yourself to stay grounded is crucial.”

The boy shook out his wrist and nodded.

“Take Maeve,” said Mal, gesturing behind him.

Maeve didn’t think Mal knew she was there. But as she played with his ring around her neck, she laughed softly. Part of him was inside that ring. Of course he knew when she was near.

“Which one of you can tell me how Maeve counters a spell she doesn’t want to block with magic?” Asked Mal.

The taller of the two boys didn’t hesitate to answer. “She takes a knee.”

“Correct,” said Mal. “Which she can get away with because she’s shorter, and she takes advantage of a spell aimed slightly too high.

You and I, Sam,” he looked to the taller boy, “wouldn’t be smart to attempt a dodge like that.

It’s why you lost control. So, what can you do to dodge a spell and allow yourself to fire back quickly? ”

Sam contemplated this for a moment, concentrating intensely.

“I can’t, can I?”

“Not wisely, no,” answered Mal.

“So she has an advantage because she’s shorter.”

“I wouldn’t call it an advantage,” said Mal. “It’s part of how she duels, but do I use it?”

Sam shook his head.

“Has she ever beaten me?”

Sam, again, shook his head. Mal nodded.

“Find your advantage. Find what keeps you from losing focus. Once more, and then we’re done for the day,” instructed Mal.

Maeve pushed off the archway and made her way up the stairs. She wandered down the corridors on the first and second floors, admiring her favorite paintings.

On the third floor, she slipped into the Trophy Room. Large glass casings and shelves that towered over her filled the room. She passed Mal’s three years’ worth of Dueling Club Awards. He’d win this year without question, too.

She traveled back a few rows, where the Magical Sporting awards were.

On the far wall was a large portrait of her brother Atony in his Serpentine Captain’s uniform. He was smiling and holding a trophy. His crystal blue eyes were lighter than hers. But they were just like Arianna’s.

A golden plaque was above it portrait, with a serpent etched into the stone. It read:

In loving memory of Atony Ambrose Sinclair

Usque ad Mortem Sinclair

The actual trophy was on a stand. He had been captain of the Harpastum and Fencing Teams. Under the trophy was a glass case with all the fencing swords he won his Championships with during his time at Vaukore, and his Emerald Green and Silver Captain’s badge.

Each one had the date engraved on it. There was a vase of flowers on a stand next to the case.

Maeve reached out and touched the green and white hydrangeas.

Hydrangea was the Sinclair family flower.

“Is this the first time you’ve allowed yourself to look at this?” Came Mal’s voice from behind her.

“It is,” replied Maeve.

Mal stood beside her, looking up at Atony. Maeve fiddled with his ring around her neck, pulling it closer to her.

“I’m sorry, Maeve,” said Mal quietly.

Maeve remained silent, admiring Antony’s portrait. He was just as she remembered him.