Chapter 44
The Finder’s Stone was fully repaired, and even when it was just in Mal’s pocket, it was leading him towards the Dread Crown deep in the Yatir Forest.
The length of their journey through the forest was unknown. Neither had any idea of how close or how far they were. They Obscured when they could see far enough ahead of them but mostly traveled on foot.
Ismail had left a note with the stone:
Beware of the moon in the forest, young travelers.
And so they covered ground by day and camped by night, throwing up plenty of protective enchantments while they slept.
Ambrose had given them the most fantastic tent.
It was about the size of a matchbox in Maeve’s pocket, but it appeared perfectly normal once expanded.
Even more appealing to Maeve was the inside of the tent set itself.
There was plenty of space, with two comfy beds, a stovetop with self serving tea and a table and chairs.
Mal marveled at it the first time he saw it. Maeve was jealous that he still got to experience magic for the first time. She would love to go back and feel those moments of awe again.
As they traveled mostly in silence, Maeve had plenty of time to reflect on the events of their final evening at Cobbler’s Cabin. Her stomach twisted every time the memory made its way into her head. The way his fingers crawled across her skin. The way she had driven him over the edge.
They slept separately in the tent at night. Though one night Maeve dozed off by the fire, and when she rolled over in the morning, she was in Mal’s bed, covered in extra blankets. He was already up.
On the seventh day, early in the morning, Mal stopped walking suddenly.
“Just ahead,” said Mal, “there’s a clearing. It’s in a tree there.”
An excited breath welled up in Maeve’s chest. They were so close.
After a little more than a week of traveling through a massive forest in a foreign country, she was finally about to put her hands on the long-lost Dread Crown. The crown that would be a top Mal’s head.
They entered the clearing.
“We found it,” said Mal.
“Where is it?” Asked Maeve.
“It’s the strangest thing,” he said. “It’s not the stone now. I can feel which tree it’s in out of these hundreds. It calls to me.”
Maeve looked up at him. He wasn’t making a move for the tree.
“There’s only one problem,” said Mal. “We’ve been followed.”
“Miss Sinclair!”
Maeve whipped around, her fingers ready at her side.
Walter Brighton laughed heartily. “So jumpy.”
Maeve’s face scrunched. “Mr. Brighton?”
“What are the chances?” Brighton laughed.
His older sons, Remy and Bill, and two other men emerged behind Brighton.
Walter was a large framed man, his sons were no different.
“What are you doing here?” Asked Mal, with little charm in his voice. He, too, knew this was no coincidence.
Brighton laughed, “I’ve been researching these forests for decades, boy. I should be asking you that question. What bring you so confidently to this grove?”
“He knows,” muttered Maeve.
“I know,” replied Mal.
Maeve tensed as the other men slowly encircled them.
“It is not yours to take,” said Mal.
Brighton laughed. “But it’s yours?”
Mal smiled softly. “Yes.”
“Please,” he spat. “You’re a child. Even if you are The Dread Descendant who’s to say you’re owed that crown? Who’s to say the Magicals even want to see you wear it? It belongs in the museum. We have our government. We picked it. We didn’t pick you.”
Mal laughed hollowly. The noise seemed to unsettle Brighton, but he quickly regained his composure.
“True,” said Mal. “But that is not of consequence or concern to me.”
“You know you would have been smarter to wait until we had actually retrieved the crown to make yourselves known,” said Maeve.
Mal smirked and looked down at her. “She’s right.”
Walter spit at Mal’s feet.
Maeve and Mal stared down at the ground between them.
Maeve inhaled slowly. Disgust swelled inside her. Before anyone could react her arm shot out towards Remy. With a low thudding sound his eyes popped white.
Swirling colors appeared at everyone’s fingertips, but Mal clicked his tongue.
“Don’t,” he said.
Walter looked at his son, his eyes wide.
“They said you-you-couldn’t enter minds anymore. They said you-”
“Did they?” Interrupted Maeve. “So strange.” She held Remy on the line, he was unconscious, but she wasn’t in his mind. He was fighting her. And fighting hard, but she was hard to fight. “Everyone seems to be having discussions about what I can and cannot do and no one bothered to ask me.”
Her hands tensed, sending a convulsion through Remy’s body where he hovered.
“Merlin,” said Brighton. “That man in Albania. That was you.”
Shit.
“The Daily Divination printed about it. The Orator’s Office said the Magic was unknown. But you did something to his mind.”
Remy tensed again. He was fighting hard now. Maeve would either need to let go or fully infiltrate his mind to keep her hold.
“Alight,” said Brighton, pressing his hands down in a calming manner. “We can discuss this.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” said Mal.
Brighton shook his head in anger. “No. No,” he said. “I will not give up my life’s work for an illegitimate usurper, and a Sacred Seventeen bitch.”
“Father,” said Bill.
“Shut up,” he snapped at his other son.
“You will give it up,” said Mal. “I am sorry, sir. Truly. I know in your heart what you desire is virtuous, but I will have that crown. I will receive the magic it holds. Magic my blood calls to.”
Mr. Brighton’s breathing was quick and heavy. His eyes on Maeve. Mal continued speaking calmly.
“I am not quick to anger like Maeve here. Her temper is truly to be feared.” Praise rang out from his voice. “I keep a very tight leash on my temper, Mr. Brighton.” Fear was pounding from them all. “But make no mistake, you step towards her and I will use it with joy.”
One of the men spoke then. “You really are him.”
Mal gave him a nod.
“I’ll be dammed.”
“Apologies, gentleman,” said Mal.
With a snap of his fingers, they all fell unconscious, slumping to the ground.
“Wipe their memory,” said Mal plainly.
“What?” Asked Maeve.
“The only people that get to know the moves I make are the people I choose.”
“Wipe their entire minds, Mal?”
“That’s what I said.”
Maeve stammered. She pointed at Brighton. “That man holds more knowledge about Magicals and our history than anyone on Earth.”
“Well, I hope he wrote it all down.”
“Bill and Remy have children- they will forget-”
Mal’s eyes slipped to hers and her mouth snapped tightly shut.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said softly. “Please. Everyone in the world is going to look at me like that at some point. I can accept that. But not from you.”
Maeve’s jaw loosened. Her body relaxed and she heaved a sigh. She nodded and turned back to where the five men lay unconscious.
She started with Remy. She pointed two fingers at him, but she didn’t erase his mind. She dove into it, searching for the memory of their encounter.
She had never done it before, but she knew it must be possible. She grabbed onto Remy’s memory of being in the Yatir Forest, of their encounter. She held up her hand, preparing to destroy just that memory.
She snapped her fingers. A cracking sound echoed across Remy’s mind. Maeve held her hand up to her eyes. Blinding white light surrounded her.
She pulled out of Remy’s mind, prepared to be satisfied with another accomplished new spell. But her face fell gaunt as she saw Remy.
He was convulsing like the man in alley in Albania. His body shook, his mouth foamed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Maeve’s hand shot over her mouth.
“What did you do?” Mal said.
“I-” she stammered.
Mal crossed over to Remy, pulling him up by the collar. He wasn’t dead, but he may as well have been.
Just like that man in Albania.
“Answer me,” said Mal.
“I just- I don’t know- I just-”
“I told you to erase their minds.” He looked over at Brighton and the rest. “Not shatter them.”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Maeve. “I was trying to do something else-”
“That’s not what I instructed you to do,” said Mal, dropping Remy to the ground.
“I was trying to erase the specific memory, alter it-”
“Again,” said Mal, “I didn’t say practice a new idea on him I said-”
“I know what you said!”
Maeve’s ribs were throbbing now. Her leg pulsating. The numbing spells and potions were completely worn off.
Mal inhaled slowly. Maeve swallowed.
He looked back down at Remy.
“Erase his mind now,” said Mal with calculated control. “If there is any mind left.”
Maeve dropped her hands to her sides and nodded.
“And then wipe the rest clean, too.”
The forest stilled as Mal’s slender fingers pulled the Dread Crown from a hollowed out spot in a tree.
It was shining like it has just been polished.
Not a single bit of dirt or tree bark, dust or debris, touched its radiating silver color.
Serpents ran, twisting and biting, across the sparkling crown.
Their eyes were set with emerald stones, and their flared tongues of rubies.
Magic radiated from it, surging the longer Mal held it.
“It’s beautiful,” said Maeve.
He frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Finders Stone. It was snapped down the middle once more, laying in two equal pieces in his hand.
“Well now we know your Uncles weren’t idiots,” said Mal.
“That is still up for debate,” said Maeve. She ran her fingers over the stone. “It must break after each use.”
Mal’s gaze returned to the crown. “Take my hand.”