Chapter 48 #2
She made her way out of the hall, attempting to look from Mal discreetly. She drifted through the ballroom nonchalantly. There was no sign of Mal or Ophelia.
“Have you seen Mal?” She approached Mr. and Mrs. Mavros and unapologetically interrupted their conversation with January Jones, the senior editor of The Daily Divination.
“No, darling, I’m afraid not,” replied Mrs. Rosethorn, sweetly tucking Maeve’s hair behind her ear.
Maeve moved past them without a reply before whipping back around and interrupting them once again.
“Have you seen Ophelia?” She asked.
They all shook their heads, slightly confused.
“Right,” Maeve smiled charmingly, “carry on.”
She stuck her head in the dining hall and abruptly turned around on the ball of her foot when she realized it was vacant save for Alphard Mavros and a red-headed Pureblood girl she had met only a handful of times that was his age. Victoria was her name.
The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed a quarter to seven o’clock, meaning dinner would soon be served.
Maeve found Mal and Ophelia in the library. It was dimly lit, and she spotted them across the room between two rows of books. Mal was showing Ophelia something in a book.
A deep wave of nausea passed through her from watching them stand so close together alone. She observed them for a moment, hating the way he smiled down at Ophelia.
She backed away on the tips of her toes and walked across the marbled floor as quietly as possible, leaving the library.
She wanted to smack herself. And then smack him. And then really smack Ophelia.
“There you are.”
Maeve was drawn from her thoughts by Daniel Rodriguez.
“Mr. Rodriguez,” said Maeve, as politely as she could, given that she felt like punching something.
Mr. Rodriguez had a punchable face. Good enough at least.
“I was just on my way out, rather early morning tomorrow, but was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Still haven’t filled that Assistant Junior Undersecretary Position?” Maeve wondered if perhaps too much sass had slipped into her tone, but Daniel smiled at her.
“I’m so curious about you.”
Maeve cocked her head to one side. Daniel continued.
“Clement Parsons on the Committee of Experimental Charms said they offered you a higher position and higher pay. You didn’t take that either. Wilkinson at the Creation of Magic office said the same.”
“Perhaps you lot do not understand the common factor among you,” said Maeve.
“Come now,” said Daniel, laughing. “You joined the Bellator. The Double O is not so bad. Your Father loves it.”
Maeve knew that wasn’t completely true, but smiled sweetly at Daniel all the same. Her Father tolerated his job because of the power and position he held.
“I believe dinner is starting soon, Mr. Rodriguez. I’ll trust you can see yourself out.”
Maeve walked past him and back into the main hallway. She entered the Great Dining Room, where the table was set for nearly one hundred people.
A few had already taken their seats. The enchanted butterflies from the foyer fluttered their way into the room. Maeve found the card with her name on it, right of the head of the table next to her father. Mal’s name was beside her.
Maeve contemplated moving his name card further down on the table, away from her.
He arrived in the Hall a few moments later, with Ophelia on his arm. Maeve’s jaw snapped shut as she watched them walk across the room together.
Touching.
A group of women seemed excited to see Ophelia, and much to Ophelia’s dismay, pulled her away from Mal, who was heading towards Maeve.
She looked down at the name card on the other side of Mal’s.
“Of course,” muttered Maeve bitterly, snatching up Ophelia’s name card and swapping it with one much further down on the table.
“Maeve, darling,” she heard her father’s voice call out.
She jumped, and he was striding towards her quickly. Ambrose was in a cheerful mood, it seemed. He came closer and spoke in a hushed voice.
“The Elven Hand would like to sit across from you-next to me.”
“Who?”
“The Prince. Xander.”
Maeve blinked. “Alright.”
“The Prince is staying for dinner?” Mal appeared next to her now.
“Yes, well, you would know that had you not been holed up in the library for the past half hour.”
She smiled at him sweetly. Mal gave her a reproachful look, knowing her sweet demeanor was fake.
“Are you alright?”
“Fine,” she replied hastily.
“Finally! Maeve Sinclair.”
Maeve and Mal looked across the table. Xander took his place behind the chair across from Maeve.
“We meet at last,” he said.
Maeve thought this was possibly the worst time to have to put on a show. She would rather be anywhere else at the moment, and especially not having to charm an Elven diplomat and brother of the Elven Queen.
Maeve plastered on her most charming smile. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, sir.”
“Sir?” Xander laughed. “I’ve only just celebrated my thirtieth birthday. I hope I’m not old enough for you to call me ‘sir’.”
“Apologies,” said Maeve. “I’m sure ‘my Prince’ will suffice, then?”
Mal’s magic tensed up next to her, which brought her great satisfaction.
“Xander will be fine,” said the Elven Queen’s brother playfully, eyeing Maeve with a flirtatious look.
On his breast pocket was a pale blue butterfly.
Kier appeared at Xanders side.
The ice.
The decor for the evening made sense now.
Everyone stood behind their seats at the Grand Dinner Table, and Ambrose took his place at one head of the table and Clarissa at the other. Once they were seated, the rest of the party pulled back their chairs and followed suit.
Mr. Iantrose sat down on the other side of Mal. Mal looked to Maeve with a curious brow raised.
“Oh, Merlin,” muttered Maeve, placing a hand on her temple as Iantrose began barking some incoherent nonsense loudly. She had not paid attention to whose card she swapped with Ophelia’s.
The food was delicious, and it was served on the finest treasure. Clarissa saved the real crystal only for the most important guests. And their home was currently full of them.
The conversation flowed lightly, but Maeve was more reserved than usual, granting her many looks from her father. She was completely in a daze, swirling around a bit of soup. She snapped back to reality when she heard Xander bring up a particularly touchy subject.
“I hear your half human,” he said to Mal. Xander laughed, but an awkward silence fell amongst those around them. “Then I am with great company! My cousin is half human. Down there by Reeve. His second in command, Eryx.”
Maeve looked down the table where Reeve and Eryx sat. Abraxas sat across from them. The three of them having more than their fair share of fun. Abraxas poured them all another round.
Reeve’s eyes lifted to Maeve. He looked to Xander and then winced at Maeve. She rolled her eyes and brought her attention back to the conversation at hand.
Maeve knew the last thing Mal wanted was to be reminded of his parents, even if Xander was wrong.
She spoke, so he didn’t have to.
“Actually, Xander, both of Mal’s parents were Magicals. But I am curious,” said Maeve with a drawl, as though hanging on his every word, “does it feel strange to be the only non-Magical being here?”
Ambrose’s eyes shot to Maeve. Abraxas had told her everything. He was the son of royalty yes, but what little Elven power their kind possessed, which was usually that of battle, Xander was gifted with no skills besides his politics.
Xander didn’t miss a beat. “Only as strange as it feels to be the only member of the Royal Elven Family here.”
Maeve replied with a charming laugh. “Ah- of course. Well, I hope you’ll volunteer for tonight’s duel. I know we’re all dying to see such royal abilities.”
Ambrose kicked his youngest under the table. Maeve bit her lip and didn’t take her eyes off Xander.
“You are every bit as ferocious as I had hoped,” said Xander. “You studied at Vaukore, correct?”
Maeve nodded.
“What prestige,” continued Xander. “Your Father tells me you were Head Girl and best in your year.”
Maeve smirked at her father, already haven forgiven him for kicking her. “Head Girl, yes, however, I was second best. Mal was the best in our year. My Father is kindly biased.”
“Mally and Maeve are quite the pair,” slurred Mr. Iantrose. “I remember when I taught them in school!”
“You never taught us, Mr. Iantrose,” said Maeve, her eyes rolling dramatically.
“Never taught school at all,” muttered Ambrose with a grin.
“Of course,” said Xander. “The Dread Descendant would be at the top.”
Maeve looked up at Mal. “Where he belongs.”
Mal looked over at her, smiling softy with humility.
“I don’t mean to pry,” said Xadner. “Our worlds have just been apart for so long.” He turned his attention to Ambrose and raised his glass. “Here’s to new alliances between The Orator’s Office and the Royal Elven Family.” Xander turned his glass to Maeve, “and to new bloodlines.”
Maeve’s stomach dropped about a hundred feet.
That was a bold.
Too bold.
Quite a few heads turned their way. Ambrose held his composure well, but for the first time all evening, Maeve thought perhaps her father wasn’t genuinely fawning all over The Elven Prince. Perhaps he was caught between a rock and a hard place.
To new bloodlines, she repeated over and over to herself, each time growing more panicked and nauseous.
He hadn’t just come for an alliance with Mal or the Double O. He came, with that stupid smile he must have thought was charming, to win her.
Maeve hadn’t realized how fast her breathing had become until Mal’s long, slender fingers rested on her leg underneath the table. His thumb traced cool, calming circles across her thigh.
Ambrose gave Xadner a small nod and met Maeve’s eyes for a moment. He couldn’t hide his expression of shame from her.
After dinner, Maeve and Mal took their places at the center of the Dueling Hall. Mal had been picked to duel Arman, but Arman fell too ill after Maeve saw Ambrose whisper hurriedly to him just before the duel.