Chapter 61
The preparations for Mal’s coronation were going perfectly, according to Abraxas and Maeve’s grandmothers. They were two of the oldest Magicals alive, and held the distinct honor of ensuring Mal’s ascent to the throne was a memorable one.
He was still traveling, and was set to return late tomorrow evening or early in the morning on his birthday.
She entered her father’s study. “You wanted to see me?”
Ambrose leaned against the enchanted window. A stormy twilight brewed through the glass. Movement to her right caught her eye.
Reeve sat on the black leather loveseat. No claws. No wings. Just the handsome High Lord whom she had exchanged unpleasant words with last they spoke.
His chin lowered. “Sinclair.”
Maeve looked back to her father. The air was tense. “What’s this?”
“Have a seat, darling,” said Ambrose.
Maeve crossed the room and sat opposite Reeve. They were quiet. Maeve shook her head.
“Wonderful,” she said. “It’s the eve of his coronation and let me guess,” she looked to Reeve, “you’ve come up with some reason it shouldn’t happen.”
Neither of them spoke. A sinking feeling washed over her entire body.
“I knew it. You’re moving against me?” Asked Maeve in a shuddering whisper. “Against us?”
Ambrose’s eyes shot to his daughter. “No,” he said darkly.
“Then what is this?” She pressed.
Ambrose sighed. “I am sorry, darling. I have told you before there are aspects of war you know nothing of.”
She looked to Reeve. Not a flirtatious flicker in his firelight eyes. This was The High Lord of the Immortal Realm. He spoke now.
“There are whispers. Whispers that have happened before. A darkness growing stronger in the Dread Lands,” said Reeve.
“Of course there is,” said Maeve. “The Dread Descendant has returned.”
“It’s more than that,” said Reeve. “The darkness there is growing.”
“Mal can handle-”
“Tell her Ambrose,” Reeve interrupted.
Ambrose was reclined back in his chair. His arms draped down the arms of his chair.
“I am afraid for you, Maeve. I am afraid of what lies there. Afraid it will corrupt you before Malachite even has a chance to defeat it. I took an oath to protect all Magicals. I called you here, and Reeve here, because I need you to understand why I informed Reeve about your spell.”
She looked back and forth between them.
“Excuse me?” Maeve said in disbelief, certain she had misheard him.
“Maeve,” said Ambrose, his tone dismissive. He didn’t even so much as glance at her. He turned his chair towards the window.
But Reeve’s eyes slid to Maeve as Ambrose continued talking. After only a moment Reeve’s expression swiftly shifted, as he realized Maeve was on the edge of her seat. Shock spread across her face.
“You didn’t,” said Maeve. “Tell me you didn’t-”
Ambrose rounded on her. “You know nothing of wartime and the sacrifices that must be made-”
“I know plenty of sacrifices,” snapped Maeve, her voice growing dark. She pulled at the fabric of her high collared sweater and then pushed up her sleeves, exposing the marks of proof.
Ambrose ignored the gesture and continued. “We are on the verge of another catastrophic war, this time we may not survive.”
Maeve’s throat burned hot. She couldn’t believe it. “So you betrayed my secret to him, for your own gain?”
“For all our gain,” corrected Ambrose.
Maeve shook her head. “I told you what the Double O would do with this power, you agreed the danger-”
“I am not your corrupted government,” said Reeve.
“Shut up,” said Maeve.
Reeve stood to his full height, his shoulders rolling back as he spoke.
“You think you are the only one with loved ones to protect,” said Reeve.
“Spare me,” said Maeve. “You don’t give a damn what happens to the Magicals, so long as your precious and perfect society stays tucked away from harm. When was the last time your schools were attacked? Your lands destroyed?”
“He has been to the Dread Lands, Miss Sinclair,” spat Reeve, his voice sharp and low. “Malachite has traveled into The Dark Sacred Lands that sit across the Black Deep from my lands. Immortal lands.”
“So what?” She said.
They were silent for a moment. Ambrose and Reeve exchanged a glance.
“You knew,” said Ambrose.
“Of course I knew,” she answered. “I am his Second.”
Reeve nearly rolled his eyes. He walked past her to gaze at the artifacts along her father’s mantle, as if looking for a distraction, his breathing slow and controlled.
But Maeve could feel that temper ready to whip from him. Fire danced and pushed across the floor towards her.
Maeve looked to her father, who ran a hand through his darkened silver hair. “He’s there now, isn’t he?” He asked her.
“And so what if he is? Those lands, the magic in them, is his.”
“True,” said Ambrose gently. “And I advised him that I fully supported his desire to travel.”
“But?” Pressed Maeve.
Reeve turned from the mantel now, Maeve looked to him.
“But those lands have been sealed for centuries for a reason. We had a plan. Armies of Magic to take back those lands.”
Maeve scowled. “You’re so arrogant. You think he isn’t capable of handling the power?”
“No, I think he’s going to fail miserably and bring all of us down with him.”
Maeve’s jaw tightened. “Ah.” She looked to her father. “And there lies the real reason he wanted my spell. Speaking of things failing miserably,” she looked back at Reeve, “good luck casting it right.”
“Now look who is arrogant.”
“I do not hide my arrogance behind the guise of diplomatic alliances and humanitarian generosity. I will be feared for my arrogance.”
Reeve was closer now, towering above her. So close she could see a bright white scar that ran across his neck, surrounded by ink. Those same three necklaces hung from his neck.
Vexkari markings.
“I don’t doubt that,” muttered Reeve.
Maeve turned back towards her father. “So what if the humans start another war? We will be moving from this realm soon.”
“How soon?” He asked gently.
Maeve didn’t have an answer. Ambrose pulled a cigar from his pocket and handed one to Reeve. The tips of them lit instantly.
“You wanted to be in the room, Maeve. You begged me not to be excluded. Now here you are, having the real conversations.”
“So I am to accept the Premier gave away my most prized secret, not that my father did.”
Pain glimmered across his eyes. “Yes.”
Maeve swallowed, and accepted his point, horrible as it was.
“Fine. I can accept that reality. And to answer your question: tomorrow.”
Ambrose’s cigar dipped from his fingers. “What?”
“His coronation won’t be at Vaukore Hall. It will be in the Dread Lands. In just a few short months, he has restored Castle Morana. And then soon the rest of what was once a great city will be ready for our return.”
Ambrose’s eyes were wide with joy. “Incredible.”
Maeve’s throat tightened. “Do not tell Mal what you’ve done. Do not tell him you doubted him,” she spoke directly to Ambrose. “You are the closest thing to a father he has. Do not devastate him in this way.”
Ambrose looked at his daughter with remorse.
“I need a moment alone with my daughter, Reeve.”
The High Lord didn’t argue. He didn’t look at Maeve as he passed by her and left the study.
Maeve and her father sat silently for a moment. Ambrose finished his cigar and then stood. He moved around the desk and pulled one of the armchairs towards her. He sat with their knees almost touching.
She didn’t look at him.
“Maeve,” he said gently, his voice warm and calm.
She looked up at him. His face was content.
“A year ago we sat in this office and I had to beg you to even tell me Malachite’s name.
Now here we are, and you are fighting to protect him still.
” Ambrose reached forward and held her face in her hands.
“You are going to be the most fearsome and dedicated second.” His eyes traveled to her neck and then to her arms. “Do not fear these marks, Maeve. Show the world what you have done to earn your place tomorrow.”
“I worry that he won’t find me beautiful anymore.” The brutally honest words slipped from her before she second guessed them.
Ambrose exhaled. “You will always be beautiful, my darling daughter. He could be blind and I know he’d still choose you. The connection you share goes beyond the physical. Like calls to like.”
She calculated what to say next, but as the person she loved most in the world bore into her, she couldn’t hold a facade.
“I didn’t expect this to happen,” said Maeve weakly. Then she laughed, almost with a cry. “Especially when I know it will never be anything more.”
Ambrose was quick with a response. He squeezed her hand three times.
“It already is something more.” He held Maeve’s hands in his own.
“I know that he brings you more excitement than you’ve probably felt in all your life, and I know you are drawn to the same dark magic he is, and I can’t blame you there.
It’s in your blood. I have watched you do great things since making his acquaintance.
Things I hoped for you even as a just a child.
That’s all I can hope you continue to do.
” He looked at her tenderly. “There is nothing you weren’t born to do.
It is all yours for the taking, Maeve. I pray you take it all. ”
Maeve pushed off her chair and threw herself into her father’s arms where he sat, wrapping her arms around him. He held the back of her head and kissed her hair.
“My plus jeune serre-livre,” he murmured. “My littlest bookend.”