Chapter 65
Black cosmic swirls of night burst from her entire body. No corner was spared as the room plummeted into a void of light.
Mal darted for her as screams of pain, and frantically fast footsteps filled the hall. Burning hot tears streamed down her face through sobbing, sharp breaths. Arianna was collapsed over on their father. Guests hurled themselves past them, scrambling for safety.
Slender, cool fingers wrapped around her arms, attempting to move her. She ripped from his grip. Hot electricity slammed through her fingertips, uncontrolled and of its own will. It was too much to hold, the force caused her vision to blur.
Reeve appeared before her, wings fully out. With a blast of air, he wrapped them around Arianna and her father, swirling into darkness and disappearing with them.
The pressure exploded through her body. She screamed, extending her arms fully out at either side. An agonizing, bloodcurdling, and monstrous scream. Deadly bolts of green light illuminated the dark hall, shooting in every direction. Even towards Mal.
He threw up his arm, blocking and shielding in himself from nearly all of them. Nearly.
A single bolt slammed into the side of his face, slicing open the skin from his jaw line up his cheek and staggering across his eye.
He recoiled and his hand flew to his face. Blood stained his fingers tips.
And then he dove for her.
His arms wrapped tightly around her middle and slammed her to the floor. Her head cracked against the marble tile. He straddled her stomach and pinned her wrists to the floor with brutal force. His own magic was slamming into her, attempting to sedate her.
“Control!” He bellowed.
Maeve wailed once more. Green bolts of lightning continued to spiral from her trembling hands, shooting flat across the floor of the Hall.
“Maeve!” Mal growled. “Stop!”
Blood dripped from his face, landing across her cheeks in little pools.
There was no control within her reach. The tether had snapped on whatever wall had been inside her, and it could not be repaired.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Maeve,” begged Mal, his breathing quick.
He didn’t speak again. He kept her pinned until she exhausted herself, pushing his Magic into her in an attempt to sedate her. Every ounce of Magic she had poured from her. She was drained entirely. Empty.
Light returned slowly to the hall as the clouds of darkness dissipated. They were alone in the hall. Mal’s grip on her wrists loosened, and he leaned back, still straddling her.
Long exaggerated breaths slipped from him.
The Hall was desecrated. The once swirling marble pillars were chipped and cracked, now a pallid grey stone. The floor too. The windows in the hall were wide open, the glass previously in them scattered everywhere. The ceiling was bare. The tapestries had burned into nothing.
Maeve’s arms moved across her eyes and face.
“Take me away from here, Mal,” she cried.
Without argument, he Obscured them from Castle Morana.
She folded her arms across her chest in the long corridor that led to her father’s basement where the portraits of her family hung. The previously empty portrait between her Grandfather Alyicious and her brother Antony now held a portrait of her father sitting behind his desk, smoking a cigar.
She had been to this portrait many times in the past two days. It was the only proof her mind accepted that he was truly gone.
Someone had poisoned the person she loved more than anything. Whose heart beat closest to hers. Whose dazzling and mischievous smile was the cure to all her ailments. He would never come strolling through a set of doors, swagger in his step and a cigar in hand.
His body was decaying already. Buried on the cliffside in Northern England, on Sinclair land, where all the Sinclair family were buried from the past three hundred years.
Many came to honor her father. Hundreds of Magicals.
The entirety of the Magical Militia was in attendance. Every single soldier. Past and present.
Several people felt compelled to speak at Ambrose’s funeral. Maeve heard none of their words.
Everything felt empty. Nothing struck her emotions, nothing made her smile or feel angry. She was numb. Even as she replayed the image of his body passing in her arms, nothing swelled inside her.
Her Magic was sharpened somehow, but it was exhausted, even days later.
She knew there were those that opposed them.
She knew The Committee and all those who were sitting fat and happy from the power she and Mal threatened to usurp were angry.
But she never dreamed Ambrose would be the target.
She was prepared to fight, but it was not Maeve or Mal who had been betrayed.
Her Father had warned her about a rebellion. Those that would have never seen Mal return. Those that benefited from the current class status and structure would not accept their new way without a fight.
He had been painfully right.
Mal had not left Maeve’s side since. Not to sleep, not to eat. Even now, he was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, watching her carefully.
Maeve knew they wouldn’t kill her yet, if they planned to at all. This wasn’t just a warning. It was to incentivize her to rethink her choices. To marry Alphard or Xander and produce heirs and do her duty.
There were only so many Sacred Seventeen women of age who were free.
Arianna was already married. Victoria was engaged to Damario, possibly soon Alphard.
Iris was two years away from turning twenty-two and Juliet’s parents had families offering a fortune for her betrothal.
Emerie was promised to Roswyn. Their wedding was a month away.
The rest of the sacred seventeen girls were still children in their primary studies. But there were a dozen or more Sacred Seventeen men without wives.
They wanted her still. They had no other choice.
Maeve took a steadying breath and tore her eyes away from her father’s portrait.
Mal was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He was in relaxed clothing. Black slacks with a thin pressed seam and a dark blue turtleneck. The locket hung freely around his neck. No crown.
His face now had a pale red and white jagged scar, courtesy of Maeve’s unexplained lighting. Magicals didn’t produce lightning. The mark ran from his chin, jagged and broken, up across his cheekbone and through his eye.
“Will it scar?” She had asked after Irma healed him the day before.
Mal nodded. “Dark magic leaves traces.”
Maeve ran her fingers over the black lines that shot across her own neck. “I’m sorry.” She had said.
Maeve reached the top of the stairs. They walked silently to the Dining Hall. Mal pulled out Maeve’s chair, and she sat across from Arianna. Her mother sat at the head of the table. Mal stood next to her, looking down.
She felt him pushing into her mind. It took little effort and she let him slip inside.
I am a word away, he pushed into her mind.
It had taken much convincing, but Mal agreed to leave her for an evening with just her mother and sister. He brushed her hair behind her ear and looked to Arianna. Her sister looked down at the table and back up in respect.
Mal didn’t address Clarissa as he took his leave.
Maeve didn’t touch the food on her plate, and neither did Arianna. Clarissa cleared her plate.
The evening was primarily silent until Clarissa finally spoke.
“You are aware that your father purchased you that ridiculous townhouse in London?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Clarissa reached for her glass of wine. “Yes, well. You’re welcome.”
“I don’t believe you purchased it,” said Maeve darkly.
Clarissa’s eyes shot to her. “How dare you.”
Arianna sat with her head bowed, staring at her full, untouched plate.
Trudy appeared in the doorway.
“A Prince Xander, ma’am,” said Trudy with a low bow to Clarissa.
Maeve merely looked across the table at Arianna. Her sister returned her exhausted expression.
Xander sauntered into the room. “My deepest condolences for your husband, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “Though I must admit, I was grateful to receive your letter of reconsideration for my marriage to your daughter.”
Maeve sighed and shook her head. “Don’t do this,” said Maeve weakly.
Clarissa eyed down her youngest ruefully. She swished the wine in her glass around in a circle before taking a long sip.
Maeve’s hollow laugh echoed in the silent dining hall. “Daddy would have never. . .”
Clarissa raised her eyebrows. “Ambrose isn’t here.” Her thin lips pulled up at the corners.
Maeve felt a surge of hatred rise in her. The first emotions she had felt in days. The crystal glass in Clarissa’s hand shattered. She jumped as wine poured onto the table and into her lap.
“Let me make something very clear,” said Maeve calmly. “I don’t obey you. I stand beside the greatest dark Magical of all time. A man with talent beyond your feeble comprehension.”
Clarissa stood wiping her dress with a cloth napkin, staring Maeve down with disgust. “Your blood earned you that spot.”
Maeve looked over at her and said plainly. “My talent earned me that spot. My loyalty, my abilities, my mind earned me that spot.”
“You think he would have ever given you the time of day if you’d been a half blood or even worse, a human born? Don’t think for a second if your blood was dirty, you’d have this disgraceful attitude towards marrying royalty.”
“But it is dirty, isn’t it?” Said Maeve, her brows raised.
Clarissa’s face faltered. She stammered.
“And I don’t give a damn about marrying royalty. In fact, I don’t give a damn about marrying at all. They’ve already taken the only thing that could hurt me besides Mal, and do you truly think that would be successful?”
“I always knew you’d turn out to be so horrible, just like-”
“Oh heavens yes, just say it,” seethed Maeve. “You think I don’t already know I don’t belong to you? That you didn’t carry or create me? You think there are any secrets of Daddy’s left for me to find?”