Chapter 39
It had been Maeve’s idea to hold Mal’s coronation on his birthday. He would be twenty-two on New Year’s Eve.
They had four months to find the Dread Armor and charm the Magical World.
Ambrose brought them back to Sinclair Estates after the meeting with the other realms.
“That went well,” said Ambrose lightly.
Mal looked to her father. “I think so.”
Ambrose stopped and turned towards him.
“Regardless of your speech, which I think you truly mean, you threaten to destroy the power that is already in play,” said Ambrose. “It will not be given to you without a fight.”
Mal nodded.
“But Lithandrian like you,” continued Ambrose with a chuckle. “Which is unheard of.”
“Why doesn’t Reeve like her?” Asked Maeve.
“The High Lord,” he corrected, “and Lithandrian have never gotten along to my knowledge.”
“They both turned their back on Magicals three hundred years ago,” said Maeve. “It seems like they are perfect company.”
Ambrose stared at her for a moment and then spoke. “Reeve’s father and Lithandrian’s father were responsible for that. Reeve is our greatest ally. If you are to be Mal’s second, you need to learn to forget the past and make moves calculated towards a future.”
Maeve nodded.
“You can continue to stay here Malachite,” said Ambrose. “Until we secure you a place of your own.”
“What about the Hapswitch House?”
“The flat in London?”
Maeve nodded. “It’s been vacant for years. Since Uncle A died.”
Mal looked to Ambrose.
“I can take you to see it today,” said Ambrose.
Mal nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“And,” said Maeve tentatively. “While we are gone, it can be prepared for Mal to move in.”
“Gone?” He asked.
Maeve looked to Mal.
“So,” said Ambrose, looking back and forth between Mal and Maeve, “you’ll be leaving in a few days to track down this Dread Armor?”
Maeve hesitated. “We don’t want to waste any time.”
“Tomorrow then?” Her Father asked as he understood.
“Tomorrow,” answered Maeve.
Ambrose’s face fell flat with disappointment that he attempted to hide. “You’re really not going to finish school, Maeve?”
“Really not.”
Mal had saved Vaukore. And it was being pieced back together and new magic poured into it every day.
Rowan resigned as Headmaster, Larliesl took his place.
Elgin was alive, but Maeve’s Dread Magic had paralyzed her spine.
She was a permanent resident at The Restoration, the Healing hospital where Alphard and Astrea’s mother worked.
Most Magicals were too afraid to send their children back to Vaukore. But Mal had plans to remedy that.
Ambrose clapped his hands together and nodded. He moved to step away from them.
“We’d like to discuss something with you, sir,” said Mal. “Privately.”
“Of course,” said Ambrose, making for the stairs to his office.
“Actually, Daddy,” said Maeve, “we need to go downstairs.”
Ambrose stopped suddenly. He turned towards them slowly with a mischievous grin developing.
“Say no more,” he said. “Meet me there in thirty minutes.”
When his footsteps disappeared around the corner, Mal looked over at her. Maeve exhaled under his piercing gaze and leaned against the wall behind her.
“You don’t want me here?” He asked quietly, a taunting in his voice.
“No,” whispered Maeve, looking up at him and tucking her hands behind her back. “I want a place far from this house where you and I can be.”
“Clever girl.”
Maeve bit her bottom lip.
Maeve followed Mal and her father down into the basement. It had been a long time since she visited there.
The main corridor was lined with portraits of every patriarch from the Sinclair bloodline. At the very end was Atony, peacefully sleeping in a large armchair. Next to him was an empty portrait, meant for her father. On the other side of her father was Grandfather Alyicious and so on.
The corridor opened into the large basement room, with the giant dragon skull and skin as the room’s centerpiece.
Maeve had not been exaggerating when she recounted her childhood memories of the Sinclair Estate basement to Mal.
With its vaulted ceiling, carved statues, a hundred shelves filled with nothing but dark artifacts, glass jars filled with strange potions and materials, illegal potions made centuries ago, trunks and cases that seemed to whisper things as they walked by, it lived up to her description.
It was like a glorified antiquities store, only it was filled with much more dark magic than was allowed under current legal regulations.
Ambrose had stacks of books that were enchanted just to hold themselves up. In the center of the room was a seating area with a large mahogany table in the very middle.
Maeve began walking around, looking inquisitively at all the artifacts. She didn’t understand many as a child, and many she still did not understand.
“The stone you spoke about last summer, the broken one,” said Mal.
“Ah, yes,” said Ambrose excitedly. “You need it?”
Mal nodded. “And we’re prepared to find the other half.”
Ambrose’s face turned serious.
“Maeve,” he called.
She looked at him.
“You know what’s in those caves?” Asked Ambrose.
Maeve nodded and gave her father a confident look. Ambrose nodded back and turned back to Mal. They didn’t stand a chance of finding the crown across miles of heavily forested terrain without it.
Maeve reached for a small leather-bound book that was high on a shelf. She pulled it down and began flipping through its pages. She heard Ambrose rummaging through wooden boxes.
“Here it is,” said Ambrose, turning and dropping the stone into Mal’s palm.
Maeve replaced the book and made her way over to them. They examined the stone while Ambrose was pulling maps out of a long, thin drawer.
It was a small obsidian-colored stone with a few faded carvings that Maeve couldn’t make out.
Ambrose rolled out a hand-drawn map on the table near them.
“This is the map my father drew,” said Ambrose. He pointed to a grouping of mountain ranges. “These caves are where Uncle Alian admitted to storing all of the treasures he stole.” Ambrose turned the map slightly. “These three are the only ones we never fully explored.”
Maeve took a seat in one of the armchairs and scrutinized the map.
“This one,” she said, pointing to one spot in particular, “is the only one that worries me. Based on the terrain in the area and the waterfalls, I believe there’s a chance it has already flooded.”
“It’s been a few years since I was there,” said Ambrose.
“We won’t know until we’re there,” said Mal. He turned to Ambrose. “Thank you, sir.”
Ambrose grinned. “Which one is first on your list?”
Mal smiled. It was feline. Captivating. Deadly. “The Crown.”
On the morning of their departure, Maeve and Mal walked past the front gates of Sinclair Estates, beyond its Magical borders, Ambrose close on their heels.
Maeve charmed the pockets in their cloaks to hold everything they needed for their trip.
“Ready?” Ambrose asked.
They nodded and grabbed hold of him.
He counted to three and the tree line blurred out of view as he Obscured them to the The Alps.
The bright orange morning sunlight at Sinclair Estates twisted into hues of grey and blue. They landed on slick ground, steps away from a large cliff, overlooking a dense forest. Tops of green trees shot out of swirly grey fog. Clouds were brewing with a distant rumble.
Ambrose and Mal clasped hands.
“Thank you, sir.”
Ambrose kissed Maeve’s cheek. “Be careful, please,” he said with raised brows.
He twisted out of view before Maeve could ensure him she would.
Mal pulled the map out of his cloak and pinpointed where they were.
They began walking along a makeshift trail of rocky terrain; the paths were overgrown and steep.
They passed the entrance to a cave that Ambrose and Maeve’s grandfather had already explored a decade prior. They walked silently for half an hour.
Thunder clapped behind them, and they picked up their pace. Within another half hour, light raindrops hit her face. They pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, and soon after, the sky fell out.
“It’s not much farther,” called Mal from ahead.
They traveled for another few minutes before coming to a large river that ran fast and deep. Boulders and rocks jetted out from the crashing, swirling stream. Maeve looked in the direction the water was coming from, and there was a large opening.
“This is the first cave,” yelled Mal over the storm.
“This is what I was worried about,” shouted Maeve.
Mal cast his right hand forward and sent a giant light beam into the cave. It hovered in the cave for a moment, exploded like a firework and before disappeared.
“There’s a dry landing in there. I can see it,” yelled Mal.
Several lightning strikes followed a large boom of thunder.
“It’s too dark!” Replied Maeve.
Obscuring without fully being able to see your destination was incredibly dangerous.
Mal took Maeve’s hand and exhaled loudly, preparing himself. The sound of their disappearance couldn’t be heard over the storm. Maeve’s stomach twisted in a knot, and then they landed safely inside the cave, soaking wet. Her lux charm illuminated at once.
She looked up at Mal. His brows flicked up. She nodded in admittance of being wrong. She snapped her fingers, drying them both instantly.
Maeve cast small flames ahead of them, lighting their way and attempting to stay warm as they ventured into the cave. Much of the cave was flooded, as Maeve expected. She lowered her hood.
They Obscured from dry landing to landing, going deeper into the mountain. The cave walls split off in two directions, creating two paths. One was dry, and one continued like the path they were already on, where small patches of rocks peeked out above the water.
They decided to explore the dry path first. This path turned narrow quickly. After sometime it opened into a large cavern with many openings and crevices. There was a giant, pitch-black lake at the center of the chamber. It was so flat and still that it looked like slick grease on the ground.