Chapter 40
She was drowning. He could feel it. Her heart was beating faster than he knew a heart should beat.
Pure fear overtook her senses.
She’s screaming. She’s drowning.
She’s going to die.
It was just like at Vaukore. Just like when Kietel had her. This feeling. On the edge of loosing her was unbearable. His lungs constricted. His hands went numb.
Water filled her lungs.
Water shouldn’t be there.
He fell to his knees with his fists balled up at his sides.
His magic was beating against his head. Against his hands. Tearing at his skin. It screamed at him viciously, just as it had the times he lost control before.
Like those times at the orphanage.
I can’t lose her. I can’t.
And that time with Valeria.
I can’t lose her.
And with Kietel. He hadn’t just killed him and his traitorous army. He had shattered every bone in their bodies. Drained them of every drop of blood.
It was breaking through the walls of his mind, overtaking his senses, his ability to see and breathe. It pounded through him, in synch with his heart.
Let me destroy let me rip let me go, it screamed. I can save her.
His eyes closed. And he took one last controlled breath.
And then he let go.
Magic flooded into his in mind.
Bring her to me, he commanded that power.
Dark and dirty and free magic poured out of him. It slithered across the wet stone and dove into the water.
The Grindylow’s piercing scream was short. Its tentacles loosened around Maeve’s body. The pale green water demon suspended in the water. His own magic circled her and drew her to the surface.
She didn’t gasp for air as her face broke the water.
Those black streams of magic carried her to him. He took her body in his arms, laying her across his lap. She wasn’t breathing. He pushed the hair out of her face.
“Maeve.”
His voice shook. His magic was swirling around them. It flew from behind Mal’s shoulder, straight to her mouth. Her eyes flew open, and she shot up. Mal held her firmly on his lap.
Water poured from her mouth. She was soaking wet. Her hair was stringy and clinging to her cheeks and down her back. She was frantic. Her gaze darted around him, her breathing everywhere with violent water spewing coughs.
He held her, and she tried to push away. The cold water seeped into his own clothes.
He reached for her face, his hands shaking, as magic trickled across his fingertips. Magic he rarely allowed himself to access. She shook him away violently as more water poured from her mouth.
She was a wreck. She was hyperventilating.
Get control, he told himself, as Magic pushed freely through him.
The alternative was unknown. But last time he didn’t, he hurt Valeria.
He grabbed her face once more, his hands slipping across her skin.
Anger was welling up inside him, manifesting from his fear. It swelled inside him like a rip current. He pushed back. Tight. His chest was so tight.
Get control of yourself, he begged.
Maeve’s agonizing cry filled the cavern. The sound ripped through him like lightning. He gripped her tightly in response. Too tightly.
But she was too frantic to know he was hurting her, too distressed to feel the magic pouring from his hands involuntarily.
Control, goddamit-
He pushed down and down and down but that darkness pushed back with every jagged breath she took.
She was crying now. It was a cry he had never heard from another human. Pain. Fear. Relief.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her leg. He was too afraid the sight of her injury would create a burning inside him strong enough to take the entire mountain down.
If I could just see her eyes-
He grabbed her forcefully now, hands shaking. Leaving her no room to thrash away.
There.
Her face was dripping wet. The whites of her eyes were pink. Her black lashes clumped together wetly.
But her eyes. Those sapphire blue eyes sparkled up at him despite all else. They would be the end of him. He had been captivated by them since the first time she glared at him.
And then the first time she smiled at him. It had not been a smile of joy. She smiled at him like a cornered lion, ready to play. No one had ever looked at him that way. Like they were up for the challenge.
But she was his challenge.
He stroked her cheeks and placed his forehead on hers.
“Breathe,” he said to both of them.
And they did.
His hands stilled. The veins in his arms and neck retreated.
And they breathed in synchrony. In and out. In and out.
“It hurts,” she cried, sniffling sharply.
“Your leg?” He asked.
In and out. Inhale and exhale.
“My ribs,” she said. “It hurts to breathe.”
In and out. In and out.
Mal’s hands moved to her ribs. She winced as he pressed into them. He was no healer. But he could get her breathing properly.
He pressed a healing spell through his palms and fingertips. Magic wrapped around her. She relaxed ever so slightly.
“Better?”
She nodded up at him.
Mal breathed deeply. That darkness in him fully retreated. He was in control once more.
Mal stroked her face, gently wiping away her tears. “That’s it,” he said, encouragingly. “We need to get out of here. Hold on.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tightly.
With a tight twist and flip of his stomach, they obscured to the outside of the cave. Maeve bent forward and vomited as he supported her.
The storm had died down.
He settled her against the stone, cradling her head back against the rock. He pulled from her coat pocket two small vials of potions they brewed for their journey.
“I don’t want-” she sniffled with a shiver.
But he was already pulling out the glass stoppers. He placed his free hand under her chin. “Drink,” he said, placing the rim of the first vial at her lips.
She obeyed.
And Mal poured the contents into her mouth. She grimaced and her jaw tensed against his hand. The sedative hit her quickly. Her face fell into his hands. He quickly assisted her with the second vial for the pain, but Maeve’s eyes were already fluttering closed as she swallowed the smooth liquid.
He pulled her to his lap and brushed her hair out of her face, cradling her head against his shoulder. Her body was still cold and wet. He placed his hand on her chest, drying her clothes and hair instantly.
Warmth was another issue. Creating heat had been one of his only struggles in Charms Class. Fire was nearly impossible, at least one strong enough to help her body get warm.
She shook against him.
He held her close.
“Maeve,” he hummed. “Give me warmth and I’ll sustain it.”
She groaned. She was barely conscious.
“Maeve,” he said again.
“Take it.” Her voice was hoarse and quiet.
She sighed, and he felt it a moment later: the walls of her Magic slipped open for him completely. Her magic lay there for the taking. Completely vulnerable. Unprotected. Alive. Deadly.
And massive.
She hadn’t harnessed a fraction of her power, he knew at once. She merely had a toe dipped in her pool of Magic.
He closed his eyes and willed her fire. At once they were toasty warm. Mal leaned back against the cave wall. The walls around her Magic weaved up the open seam, closing him out.
He looked down at her. Her mouth hung slightly open as her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.
“You have no idea do you,” he whispered. “No idea what lies waiting inside of you.”
His hand traced along her jawline.
“I will show you.”