Chapter 62
The sun was still down, no where close to breaking the horizon.
Maeve couldn’t sleep. The anticipation of Mal’s coronation was heavy.
She propped herself on one side and read A Witches Guide to the New World, with Spinel curled tightly at her stomach.
Her new favorite read wasn’t enough of a distraction.
She read the same lines over and over, her mind drifting to Mal and his crowning.
An unmistakable cold tingle shot down her spine. She sat up with a gasp that sent Spinel running. Her heartbeat kicked loud as a drum in her ears, and her head spun for a moment. She tossed her book and went bolting for the bedroom door. Spinel was still chaotically running about.
She made her way across the landing and began her descent from the third floor. Halfway down the stairs, she came across Trudy, who jumped upon seeing her.
“Oh! You have a visitor, Miss-”
“I know.” Maeve interrupted her without even a glance.
She tried to slow herself as she flew down the main staircase to the foyer. She reached the last few steps.
“Hi,” said Maeve, out of breath.
“Hello, Maeve.”
She sighed with relief and hopped from the stairs, throwing her arms around Mal’s neck. He caught her with both arms wrapped around her waist.
A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Three days and this is how you behave?”
He slid her down to the balls of her feet. She looked up at him.
“Tonight,” she said. “Everything is going to change.”
His eyes traced over her entire face. “Not everything.”
His cheeks were slightly more sunken, or more prominent, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it suited him nicely. He looked like the Prince he was.
“Would you like to sit in the drawing-room?” Offered Maeve, trying to sound calmer, but her heartbeat was pounding even louder now that she was close to him.
He released her waist and nodded once. They stepped across the foyer and Maeve closed the doors to the drawing room behind them.
“How have you been?” Asked Mal as he took a seat.
“Skip the pleasantries, shall we?”
Mal smirked.
She sat across from him. “You did it. I can feel it.”
Mal watched her for a moment. “Does that disappoint you?”
Maeve shook her head. “It amazes me. You are-”
“Perfectly fine,” he said. “As I told you I would be.”
“Perhaps one day I’ll stop doubting you,” she said quietly.
“I doubt it. So,” he leaned forward, “I have something for you.”
He pulled a small black box from his pocket and ran his fingers over it. “I was hoping you would keep this one as safe as you have my ring.”
He opened the box and ran his fingers over its contents.
Inside was the Dread Locket.
“How did this one go?” Asked Maeve, looking up at him.
He stared at the locket. “Like the others.”
He pulled it from the box and held it in the light, standing and crossing towards her. He sat next to her.
“It’s gorgeous,” said Maeve, staring at the fine detailing. “Even more so now, it’s. . . It’s glowing with Magic.”
“I have a place I want to conceal it in The Dread Lands. But until then. . .” He placed the box on the table and turned to her. “May I?”
She turned her back to him and pulled her hair to the side as he placed the locket around her neck, fastening it.
His fingers were cold and sent a quick chill down her back.
A wave of deep magic came over her, so strong that she had to breathe deeply to counter it.
She gripped the cushion beneath her. Her vision went out of focus, and when it re-entered, she could have sworn the room’s colors seemed different.
Her mind swam through a few thoughts she couldn’t quite make out.
The ring didn’t have nearly such a profound an effect as the locket.
She turned back to him and looked down at the locket, which was glistening in the light.
Mal ran his fingers down the chain and grasped the locket. His touch brought heat to her cheeks. He ran his thumb up and down the emerald markings and spoke in his perfect velvety voice.
“Time is strange in those lands. It feels like weeks. I’ve missed you.”
She looked up, and his eyes were already on her.
Mal continued before she could say anything. “How does it feel?”
“It... It feels like you.”
He smirked at her and let go of the locket. “Good.”
His hands moved to her wrists, pulling her with him as he relaxed back on the sofa. Their chests pressed together as she lay atop him. He brushed her hair to the side.
“Tonight you shall wear them,” he whispered, their noses nearly touching. “Do you have your gown?”
“No,” said Maeve with a small smile, thinking about the custom dress. “Grandmother Agatha wouldn’t let me even see it yet.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, his thumb tracing over her cheek. “That won’t do.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see you in it now,” he murmured, his voice smooth and delicious.
And he did.
The sun was barely rising, the sky a pale shade of blue, when they Obscured to his flat. Mal opened the doors to his armoire. And Maeve’s heart soared.
It was every hue of sapphire blue and silver, like an early evening cosmos. Satin and beads and tulle and sparkling fabric draped elegantly across the hanger.
“It’s stunning,” she said.
Mal moved behind her and put his lips close to her ear. “Put it on.”
He left the room. She obeyed.
Moments later she emerged into his sitting area. The sight of him stopped her feet and her breath all at once.
He was in an emerald green brocade suit, head to toe, with black trim and embellishments. In the subtle floral print were serpents intertwined with the thorns and branches and leaves. Pinned at his shoulder was a black and emerald cape that fluttered royally to the backs of his knees.
He was a vision of nobility. A prize.
His eyes traced leisurely down her entire body. Even her black lightening bolt like veins. “Perfection.”
Maeve’s head kicked back, and she balled the fabric of her dress in her fists and moved swiftly towards him.
He strode towards her and their bodies collided with a magnetic slam.
His hands tucked around her neck, pulling her face up towards him.
She kissed him hard, her tongue begging his mouth for entry.
He obliged and heat surged between her legs as their tongues moved as one.
Mal kicked her legs from beneath her, swooping her into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck, refusing to break her lips away. He brought them down the hall, pushing his bedroom door open with his back.
Maeve gasped as he dropped her on her knees at the edge of his bed. His hands gripped her hips and held her steady as he slowly moved his lips to her throat. His tongue moved tauntingly across her skin. Maeve shuddered and gripped his arms, pushing herself against him.
His mouth trailed down, licking across her collar bone. She moaned and tilted her head back. She reached forward, finding the band of his pants and ran her hand down to feel him. She cupped her palm around him and smiled widely.
Mal pulled his mouth away and brought his hungry gaze to her. His eyes swam with a paralyzing darkness. Darker than she’d ever seen them. They were the night’s sky now. She didn’t pull her hand away from the hardness that pushed against her palm.
“Does that please you?” He asked, his voice sensual and dripping with pride.
“Very much, my Prince.”
A surge of Magic swelled up between them.
In one swift movement Mal flipped her around.
He pulled the silk laces of her dress open with calculated precision.
Each ribbon snapping from the corset one by one.
The dress loosened and fell down her arms. The bed shifted behind her.
He pressed against her back, snaking his hands across her shoulders.
One hand moved over her chest and the other moved to her throat, sending icy wafts of his magic down her body.
Mine, it whispered.
“Yours,” she replied.
His grip around her neck tightened, and then pushed forward until the side of her face pressed into the black silken duvet.?
He hovered above her, letting their breaths return to a slow and steady pace together. He traced lazy circles across her skin, up and down her darkened veins. He pressed his palm just above her breast on her left side. Over her heart.
“What?” She asked softly.
“I want the world to know who you belong to.”
“They will know after tonight,” she said.
Mal shook his head ever so slightly. “Not like that.”
“Then how?” Asked Maeve.
“I’ve been thinking on it for a while. My ring on your finger is a symbol.
So I thought, maybe another jewel? Something with my own symbol on it, perhaps?
But then I realized this needs to be a mark no one can ever escape.
A permanent trace of magic binding me to my most loyal.
A Vexkari.” Mal kissed her skin just over where her heart lay. “Right here.”
“I’ll do it,” said Maeve at once.
He looked up at her. Maeve ran her fingers through his raven hair.
She was always quick to please him.
“I’ll do whatever you ask of me. I will take my vows tonight as your second in front of them all, and if you want it written in magic across my heart that I am yours so be it.”
Mal sat up and she followed suit.
“You will be the first to receive my mark,” said Mal.
“An honor,” she said.
“This magic will mark you and bind you to me permanently, Maeve-”
Her fingers moved over his lips gently. “I do not volunteer lightly.”
She lowered her hand and swiveled her knees beneath her. Mal placed one hand on the back of her neck and his right hand over her heart.
Their eyes locked together.
“Amaranthine Maeve Sinclair,” he began, his voice hummed low with authority. “I mark you as a Magical of The House of Dread.” Shards of ice shot into her skin where each of his fingertips lay. “I mark you as my own.”
Magic pierced her skin. She cried out, snapping her eyes tightly shut.
Mal held her firmly. She bent forward, grunting against the pain.
Tendrils of shadowy black magic crept from his fingertips, crawling into her skin one by one, like metal stinging spiders.
Her cheeks were stripped of color. She wined, and he pushed deeper into her skin.
The candlelights next to the bed flickered.
With one last painful scrape, he pulled his hand away from her chest.
On her chest was a bright red two-headed serpent, snaking its way through the mouth and eyes of a skull. One of the vipers mouth was closed. The other had its fangs ferociously bared, ready to strike.
Maeve ran her fingers over the mark. It was already healed. Mal tucked his fingers under her chin, bringing her gaze up at him, and cocked his head to one side. Her cheeks flushed with warmth under his sultry gaze. The corners of his mouth turned up.
“We’ll be late for my breakfast banquet if you don’t get dressed.”
“What’s the alternative?” Maeve asked mischievously.
“I have you again.”
Maeve dropped back onto the bed, flinging her arms above her head. “So be it.”