Chapter 53
No sooner had Maeve shut her eyes that the sun was pouring through the tall windows in her bedroom. A familiar voice rang through the room.
“Breakfast on the balcony, come on,” whined Abraxas. “I’ve been waiting on you for an hour.”
Maeve didn’t open her eyes. “Why are you still here?” She groaned as she tossed a pillow over her face.
She heard the door snap closed behind him and willed herself out of bed. Zimsy was gone.
Her mind immediately replayed the previous night’s events. She frowned, thinking about how stupid Alphard was.
And what she feared most of all, which was Mal’s disappointment.
Fifteen minutes later, she joined Abraxas on the balcony overlooking the gardens. The sun was sharp in her eyes. She had stayed up too late. And slept too little.
Despite the thick snow that coated the ground, the Estate was still enchanted to remain warm.
“Did you stay the night?” Asked Maeve.
Abraxas nodded. “I fell asleep in your father’s study around three.”
Maeve smiled. “Did you really? What about Mal?”
“He went home around four, I believe. Your Father says they were up until the early hours of the morning with some of the others, so I assume he is resting,” said Abraxas.
“But you felt the need to disturb me?” Asked Maeve sourly.
“I do not fear you the way I fear him,” said Abraxas, simply. “Where did you get off to anyway?”
Maeve groaned, then recounted her heated argument with Alphard to Abraxas as they poured orange juice and piled pastries on their plates.
“Mal won’t be pleased,” said Abraxas plainly. “But he’s been very understanding. Things are changing quickly. Not everyone will adjust right away. Besides, we know Alphard, and that wasn’t him.”
“Wasn’t it, though?” Asked Maeve. “You know as well as I do, he’s got a nasty side.”
“You’re being thick,” said Abraxas, smearing jam across his toast and shaking his head.
“What?”
He paused for a moment and sighed. “You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t realize your parents and his parents have had the pair of you picked out your whole life?”
“Come off it,” said Maeve.
“Maeve,” said Abraxas. His voice was more solemn than she could ever remember seeing him before. “That’s been decided.”
“No, it hasn’t!” Shot Maeve.
“By your families, it has, and you and Mal are re-writing things to your own accord, rightfully so, and of course, Alphard feels cheated and betrayed, especially with Victoria likely being betrothed to Damario in just a few weeks.”
“I never pledged myself to Alphard,” said Maeve.
“No,” said Abraxas calmly. “But do any of us pledge ourselves in an arranged marriage? And how many times have you snogged him? How many parties did he take you to freshman year?”
Maeve’s mouth fell open. “None of that means I agreed to marry him.”
“I’m not arguing it does. However, maybe you can see why, in a drunken state, he lashed out at you. Why he came to you for comfort in the first place. When comfort was what you provided one another. Especially when Victoria was all over Damario last night.”
Maeve frowned. “She was?”
Abraxas nodded.
“Oh.”
She sat back in her chair and sighed.
Spinel jumped on the table and began lapping up porridge. Maeve folded her arms across herself and stared away from Abraxas.
“It’s truly burdenous knowing everything,” he said.
After breakfast, Maeve tucked herself away in the observatory on the East side of the house for the rest of the day.
Spinel was ripping up frayed bits of carpet while she lay in the window reading.
It was late afternoon before Mal came to the house and found her.
He leaned in the doorway, studying her predatorily.
She felt his presence the moment he appeared outside the gates. The ring around her neck ensured that.
“Good afternoon, Sinclair?” Asked Mal.
The formal use of her last name did not go unnoticed.
“Fine,” she replied, avoiding his gaze for longer than necessary. He crossed the room smoothly and took up in one of the velvet armchairs, crossing one of his long legs over the other.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hiding from me up in this tower.”
“Don’t be silly. Congratulations are in order, I believe.” She set her book aside, giving him a weak smile. “You had quite the night.”
“You heard?” He smirked, propping his feet up in the chair adjacent. “Couldn’t have gone better if you ask me. Reeve was eager to hear my plans.”
“Good,” said Maeve. Fear of the potential backlash that was coming kept her from meeting his gaze. “I fell straight to sleep.”
“Not before having a run-in with Alphard, though,” said Mal emotionlessly.
Maeve stared straight ahead, and then slowly her eyes moved to him. He was difficult to read at the moment. His eyes were sharp, unyieldingly piercing.
How could he possibly know about their argument?
He answered her unasked question. “I could feel it.” His gaze traveled to his ring, which lay flat against her blouse.
Maeve stared at him, waiting for an explosion. Waiting for that temper to break loose. If Xander’s attention had brought him to anger, surely Alphard’s actions would too. His eyes bore into hers so intensely that she swallowed.
“Interesting,” commented Maeve, as she played with the ring around her neck.
“So tell me,” said Mal, his voice cool and calm. “How did that go?”
“Not well,” answered Maeve.
He nodded and intertwined his fingers across his chest. “So when I told you to handle it, instead, what you did was ignore it to the point that Alphard Mavros thought he could put his hands on you.” Mal’s jaw tightened. His voice dangerously low. “His fucking lips on yours.”
Maeve sucked in a slow breath. “He was drunk.”
“Was he drunk the times you allowed him to kiss you?”
Maeve’s jaw tightened.
“The times he danced so close to you?”
“Alright,” said Maeve tensely, getting the point.
Mal nodded subtly. “It isn’t about The Committee or an agreement between your family and his. When I told you to handle it, I meant handle him.” Mal looked away from her. “He loves you. Truly. Maybe it’s only out of the love he had for your brother, but it remains all the same.”
Alphard’s love had always been there. That was true.
And she didn’t doubt Mal could feel it, but she’d never be able to explain that love to him.
That it was childlike. Blind. Comfortable.
It was Antony’s death that brought them together.
Two spiraling, collapsing stars that needed one another not to burn up.
It was a bond rooted in despair. One she no longer needed.
“It was naive of me,” said Maeve.
His face was blank, devoid of emotion.
“Your heartbeat was rapid, uneven,” he said. “You were a range of emotions, and I could feel them all. Fear. Disdain. Pity. . .Guilt.”
Maeve tucked her hands under her legs and spoke hesitantly. “I was afraid of it. I was afraid to tell him. I didn’t want to hurt him-”
“Hurt him?” Mal’s eyes darkened and flicked to hers. “That is your concern?”
Maeve sighed. She stood from the window seat and walked towards him, kneeling beside his chair.
“Do you doubt my loyalty?” Asked Maeve, her voice soft.
Mal took her chin in his hand, running his finger along her jawline. “I doubt my ability to ever trust again a man who kisses you knowing full well you belong to another.”
“And what about your trust in me?”
Mal hesitated, his eyes racked over her face as if looking for an answer. “Tell me you are mine.”
It was a command like many he had given her before. She had never disobeyed him and didn’t intend to start now.
“I will show you,” said Maeve.
He didn’t hesitate to enter her mind. It only took a moment for him to witness the altercation from the previous night. A smirk tugged at his lips as he finished watching the memory unfold.
He withdrew from her mind.
“Very good, Little Viper,” said Mal, his face only inches from her own.