Chapter 10
Are you mine?
Her voice.
In every meaning of the word.
The Dread Prince’s voice.
Maeve rolled across cool bedding, pressing her palms into the mattress with a groan.
She lifted herself off the bed, her hair across her face, and her body aching.
She brushed her wild hair back with her fingers and grabbed the glass of water she spotted next to the bed.
The cup barely touched her lips when the memory of the night before, or what she assumed was the previous night, flooded her mind.
With shaking fingers, she discarded the cup back on the nightstand and tumbled her way out of bed.
Maxius.
The visions she had seen—NO. The vision Mal had forced on her played at super speed in her mind over and over.
My Little Viper.
His Little Viper. His?
She was in the family room in a blink, Obscuring to the point of Maxius’ Magic.
He looked up from the elongated couch, a piece of parchment in his lap, and a small quill in his hand.
He smiled softly at her and then returned to his writing.
Spinel was curled halfway in his lap as Lyrux petted him with small hands and watched Maxius write.
The truth begged to be acknowledged; it knocked so politely at her chest, it made swallowing such a life-altering pill nearly feel like relief. But she pressed down on the feeling. Even as she looked at her son and the resemblance stared back at her with undeniable certainty.
“Maeve,” came Abraxas’ voice.
Her eyes slid to the other end of the room.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, but the question was not directed at her cousin.
Mal sat in one of her armchairs, one leg crossed over the other, and his chin propped lazily on his gloved fist.
“Alphard headed back to the front lines this morning,” said Abraxas, as casual as stating the forecast, but his eyes were darting back and forth between his cousin and his Prince. “Mal suggested a brief discussion and to see him off here. Left just a bit ago.”
Maeve’s eyes didn’t leave Mal’s. He watched her with unexpectant eyes. She crossed closer to him, fully aware she was in a set of thin silk pajamas she had no memory of changing into, and that her hair was untamed.
“Can I speak with you in private?” she asked, her throat raw.
“No,” replied Mal swiftly. “My Hand will remain present. Speak freely.”
Maeve’s mouth opened with a soft sound of annoyance. Abraxas didn’t even attempt to hide his pleasure.
“You disappeared last night, Maeve,” said Abraxas, reveling in the tension that sat thick in the room. “Zimsy said you came home earlier than she expected you. Where’d you get off to?”
“Yes,” said Maeve, tension coiling at her fingertips as she refused to break eye contact with Mal. “Where did I get off to?”
Mal lost their stare down without a care. His green eyes dipped to her fingertips and then took his time trailing them back up her body.
“How should I know?” he replied as his gaze found hers once more.
She lowered her chin with a sharp exhale. If he wanted it all out in front of Brax, then by all the gods, she’d do it.
“The things you showed me last night, are those your memories or something you believe to be false?”
Mal’s bored expression didn’t falter. His breathing didn’t even accelerate. He remained leaning against his knuckles in an infuriatingly handsome way.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said smoothly.
Maeve’s mouth fell open at the bold lie. “Excuse me?”
Mal’s brows lifted, and a small laugh vibrated in his throat. One that sounded like pity. Maeve’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you getting enough sleep?” he asked, his voice casual. Unconcerned. Carefree. “You look. . .flustered.”
She remained standing, despite how he relaxed further into the chair.
“But,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low hum, one that pulled her spine tall, “your Magic is so much more stable than last we met. Any changes in. . .consumption?”
Suddenly very aware that Abraxas’ wide eyes had not peeled away from either of them, she swallowed hard, fixing a forced smile on her face. Mal was challenging her to accuse him in her own home, in front of his Hand.
“I stopped taking my potions,” she decided to say.
Mal’s free hand shot up, silencing Abraxas before he could berate her. “Wonderful. Maybe now you can be of use to me.”
His voice was cold. Distant. But so effortlessly addicting.
Maeve smiled bitterly, showing teeth and pressing down on the laugh that wanted to burst forth. Mal grinned, fully satisfied to be under her skin.
“Maxius,” called Mal, never shifting his eyes from Maeve. “Are you done?”
Maeve looked over her shoulder as Maxius slid off the couch and crossed the room towards them with the bit of parchment in his hand.
“I asked him to write down what he knew about his Magic for me,” said Mal, answering her unspoken question.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her fingers brushing through Maxius’ hair as he stepped by her.
Maxius bowed his head and presented Mal with his work. He turned towards Maeve and signed, What I feel in my Magic. He pointed to the parchment, which Mal now read silently. I wrote how it feels when I. . .fail.
Maeve cupped her fingers under his chin. He looked devastatingly like—
Mal’s voice broke her thought, bringing Maxius’ attention back to him.
“That feeling in your chest,” began Mal, pressing a single finger against his own chest, dragging it up across his neck, his lips, his nose, and then settling centered above his brows, “it must travel to your head first.”
Maxius held up a single finger, extending his arm straight out.
“Yes,” said Mal, understanding him. “Then back into the hand.”
Maxius didn’t break their hold. In my head, it hurts, like hitting a wall, he signed and pointed back down at the parchment.
Mal continued to read in silence, his fingers trailing over his lips in thought and bringing heat to Maeve’s cheeks. He nodded and looked back up at Maxius. Then at Maeve.
“No,” she answered, her voice quiet.
“I can help him, Maeve.”
“I will not lower the shields on his mind,” she said, finality in her voice.
“And if your sworn Prince commands you to?” he asked.
If he wanted to play a game, she’d play. “Command away, my Prince.”
Mal smiled with full charm. So good at the game.
“I’ll give you time to choose correctly,” he replied. “I have plenty of time to ensure things are. . .unveiled.” He looked back down at Maxius. “Practice what I showed you earlier in the meantime.”
In the meantime, as if he knew she’d relent. Or that he’d eventually force her. She didn’t know which she hated more. Maxius nodded.
Mal stood and grabbed his traveling cloak. “See to the complaints from Vaukore, Abraxas. Give them whatever they need.”
Vaukore. Magic pressed against her mind, distant and foggy from her time there. Gaps. There were too many gaps.
“Whatever they need?” asked Abraxas with a laugh. “Larliesl will claim the entire dueling hall needs remodeling.”
“Then see it done,” said Mal, heading out of the room. “Vaukore is our Realm to oversee. Mine to rule. Yours to manage.”
He didn’t wait for Abraxas to reply again as he left them, though it appeared Abraxas, as he picked up Lyrux and settled him against his side, had nothing more to say to his Prince.
Maxius signed, Breakfast?
Maeve nodded, and he slid past her out of the room. Maeve ran her hands over her face and said, “Shut up, Brax,” from behind her palms. She turned on her heel and followed Maxius to the kitchen. Abraxas wasn’t far behind her.
“I prepared some fruit,” said Zimsy, turning away from the stove as they entered the kitchen. “It’s already on the table.” She nodded her head towards the breakfast room.
“I’ll make some pancakes,” said Maeve.
Maxius shook his head with large eyes as Zimsy said, “No,” with a laugh. Maxius smiled up at Zimsy and signed, She burned them the past three times.
“I know,” said Zimsy grimly.
“I can see and hear you both,” said Maeve, reaching for a teacup on a brass hook but finding it hard to argue as she had, in fact, burned the pancakes the past three times.
She pulled open the drawer of tea bags and found it empty. Warmth slammed into her side as Maxius wrapped his arms around her. She looked down at him with a soft smile.
He was so clearly Mal’s child that the thought choked her.
Acceptance slid through her like a shockwave.
How, how, how?
She kept her composure and ran her fingers through his dark hair. He released his hold and signed, But you make the best tea.
She ran her thumb along his cheek. “Would you like some?” she asked, masking the fear that swarmed her. The fear of the unknown. The ever-present why?
He nodded, and then Zimsy pulled his attention away. “Maxius, will you carry this tray to the table?”
Maeve watched as he helped her at once, his face scrunching slightly as Lyrux attempted to assist, but nearly toppled them both over. Abraxas followed Maeve into the pantry, hot on her heels. She pulled open the cabinet where the box of tea was stored.
“What, and I cannot possibly express this enough,” began Abraxas, “the hell was that?”
“Oh,” laughed Maeve, the sound bordering on hysteria. “I’m sorry. I thought the Hand knew everything.”
“Oh, he does,” he assured her with a nod, his tone taunting. “He sees quite well, cousin. He just saw his Prince flirting with his cousin,” he hissed quietly.
“No, he wasn’t,” she assured him darkly. “He’s playing with me.”
Abraxas laughed and muttered. “I think for Mal, they are the same.”
“I’m glad this is so amusing to you,” she said, shaking her head.
“Oh, it absolutely is,” he assured her.
She slammed the cabinet door closed and turned on him. “Stay out of it.”
Abraxas snorted as she moved past him and back to the kitchen. “Yeah, right.”